NORTH TONAWANDA —
If I write every sentence in this column twice (or more), will you pay more attention to what I’m saying? (Or read it faster?)
No?
Then will someone please explain that to my 5-year-old?
Jim has reached that stage that every child seems to go through, in which in every wish/demand, if not immediately granted, must be repeated.
Then again. And again. And again. Quickly.
Until the parental (or grandparental) unit in question either gives in or successfully distracts him from the rapid-fire flurry of repeats ... or runs out of the room, wimpering, hands clapped over her ears. (Just kidding. Kind of.)
An example:
I’m working on something at the dining room table. The boys have been playing/reading/plotting to take over the world (but they’re doing it quietly, so good for them).
Jim wanders over and holds out his plastic cup, with which he’d requested/received a drink of water not long ago.
“More water, please.”
“Just a minute, bud,” I say. “Momma’s working on something. I’ll get you more in a few minutes.”
A few minutes, of course, is far too long in 5-Year-Old Land.
“More water please! More water please!”
“Wait until I ... ”
“More-water-please, more-water-please-more-water-please, morewaterpleasemorewaterpleasemorewaterpleasemorewaterplease ... ”
“Jim! A minute!”
Seconds later, the upside-down water cup, still with a few droplets clinging to it, is firmly deposited on my project, leading to a flurry of damage control and mopping up. That accomplished, I give him the Mommy-Glare of Doom.
Big grin. “More water? Please?”
Elapsed time? Probably less than the original minute or two for which I originally asked.
Don’t get me wrong. If my kids need me, I’m going to abandon my own pursuits in a heartbeat to be there for them or get them what they require.
But a drink of water? Ten minutes after the last drink of water? And the one before that, quickly abandoned so that his little brother could promptly find and dump it? Not so much.
And then we have the simpler, but ultimately no less aggravating, “Mommy! Mommy? Mooooommmm ... Momma? Mom? Mommy! Mooooooommmmmmyyyyyy ... ”
“What?!”
“Hi!”
In a way, it’s reassuring in its normalacy. My parents assure me that my brother and me did the exact same thing growing up ... and they survived (as did we). Patience is a virtue that needs to be learned, and it’s simply a lesson that hasn’t quite sunk in yet.
With parental patience, I’m sure it will. Sometimes kids just need a bit reassurance that you are, indeed, there for them ... even when you’re doing something else. Jimmy and I will work on that.
And in the meantime, I can teach him to go pester “Daddy! Daddy? Daaaaaaddddd ... Dadda? Dad? Daddy! Daaaaaaaddddddyyyyy ... ”
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