“Remember when we…” is how many of Holden’s sentences begin lately (aside from the ones that begin “I want…” or “I don’t want…” – but more on that later). The way this kid recalls events from the past is amazing. Everything from mundane trips to the park and dinners out to road trips and play dates months passed. The thought always ends the same, too: “Remember when we went to the restaurant? That was fun. Maybe we can do that again!”
A few weeks ago we went to the park near our house to play soccer, ride the scooter and just burn some energy. The trip was cut short, however, because Holden had one of his patented meltdowns. It was sad how wholly out-of-control he was that morning, screaming and crying because he wanted to ride his scooter in front of us as we walked and play with his ball in the muddiest part of the park. Finally, tired of trying to reason with him and having zero fun, we packed it up. Which made him cry even harder because he didn’t want to leave the park. We drive by that park everyday, and everyday since goes the conversation: “Remember when we went to the park?” “You mean the time when we were trying to have fun but all you would do is cry so we left?” “Yeah! That was fun. Maybe we can do that again!”
As annoying as most these conversations are, it’s fun to see how precocious Holden has become. We feel we should encourage his conversational skills, but at the same time, have to resist yelling, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” because we are just dying for a few minutes of quiet. We know that the Terrible Twos are all about the tantrums and that 3-year-olds are known for asking, “Why?” Well, we’re in that cross over period where, if he’s not having some kind of hysterical break, he wants to know all about everything we’re doing. “They” say you’re supposed to answer kids' questions simply because they’re just trying to learn, but then there’s just never a moment of peace.
“Mommy, what doing?” “I’m walking into the kitchen.” “Why?” “Because I want some water.” “Why?” “Because I’m thirsty.” “Why?” “I don’t know, Holden. Sometimes, we get thirsty.” “Why?” “I told you Holden, I don’t know.” “Why?” “Holden, ENOUGH!” Then there’s a short pause. “Mommy, what doing?” “I’m leaving the kitchen.” “Why?” “Because I’m done.” “Why?” “Stop it. Just stop it.” “Why?” You get the drift.
Although, being the sensitive Holden that he is, he sometimes cries when we tell him to stop. I like to turn the tables at that point. “Holden, why are you crying?”
OK, so the crying thing. Anyone know when it’s going to stop? We’ve tried everything – and so have our parents and his teachers at daycare. We’ve tried soothing. We’ve tried reasoning. We’ve tried bribing. We’ve tried ignoring. We’ve tried sending him out of the room when he cries. Everything just evokes more crying. And we’re talking about crying FOR NO REASON. I tell him crying when your sad or hurt is fine, but because you need a spoon or need to pee? It’s tiring.
The crying often accompanies the “I want…” and “I don’t want…” sentences I mentioned above, and so much of what he says begins this way. It’s fine when he’s making requests like for milk or applesauce, but most the time these demands are incoherent because of the tears over things like what shirt he’s wearing or who is putting on his shoes. Tiring.
All this information is churning around in that big, soft head of his. He’s slowly starting to put it all together and form logical thoughts as he sorts it out. Holden’s friend, Grant, bit him at daycare yesterday, and we had a talk about how it made him feel. Holden’s take on the whole thing: “We don’t eat people. We eat food.” The flipside is that the information overload is also taking over his imagination. This is good and bad.
Holden now has the ability to make up stories and songs, loosely based on his experiences. For him to go from putting two and three words together into sentences a year ago to composing long, sing-songy diddies in the back seat for Riley’s amusement is wonderful to hear. He’s also been able to transfer his imagination to his play, and likes to pretend cook and stage pretend transportation disasters.
However, his imagination sometimes gets the better of him, and lately he’s been expressing a lot of fear about monsters. So far, these monsters haven’t wreaked too much havoc on his peace – but they’re there, prompting bedtime assurances that Mommy and Daddy are right in the other room and that Hippo is an avid defender against all monsters big and small. For a while, Holden stopped sleeping through the night, and would wake up many times crying out, but unable to talk about why. Luckily, the wake-ups have stopped, but he still insists we leave his door open and the light on in our bedroom next door when he goes to bed. Seems like a small price for peace.
It makes me a little sad to see Holden have these fears. It’s like, little by little, his innocence is slipping away. This leads us to wonder when we need to start talking to Holden about some of the real monsters out there, and what he will be able to understand when. All without producing even more fears. In my line of work, I know first-hand what some of these monsters are capable of, and how they’re able to camouflage themselves to look just like everybody else so you don’t know they’re coming. It’s so easy now to protect him from whatever is lurking in the shadows of his mind with a few reassuring words and tight hugs. But as he gets older and becomes more adventurous and independent, protecting him will only get harder. How do you let them grow, without letting go?
Grandpa Steve, Holden and Maggie the dog go check out the birdies and bunnies.
Like father, like son: Holden playing on his "puter" while watching TV.
After a good night's sleep in his warm, cozy jams.
Some Christmas Eve stories with Grandma Sheila.
Tearing it up.
Digging for treasures.
