Holden: Three Years, Six Months

A little while ago, some friends with kids slightly older than Holden confided that Four is better than Three. While Three is filled with whining, melt-downs and a lack of reasoning, they said, Four brings better communication and a sense of self and independence. We remained cautiously optimistic, as “reasonable” and “independent” were not adjectives anywhere on our Holden radar screen.

But, as Holden sprints through time and is now closer to Four than Three, we have to admit there are some changes. For example, Holden is continuing to fine-tune and update his communication skills. Since he learned to talk, he hasn't stopped. Now, he adds more words to his sentences and usually speaks quite clearly (and loudly, but we won't get into that). What's best about this is the many Holdenisms that have evolved, that just make you smile everytime. He says, “Last time ago,” to describe something that happened – no matter if it was this morning or last week. Whenever there is a lot of something - minutes, houses, flowers – there are always “100” of them. From the get-go, Holden's had a soft spot for all things transportation, and would always let us know he saw one with a “Mommy, truck!” or “Daddy, plane!” from the backseat. He would keep repeating this find until acknowledged: “Yes, Holden, truck.”

But now, NOW, this observational process has evolved into a mind-numbing, blow-your-brains-out kind of philosophical conversation. Imagine, if you will, that it is 7:34 a.m. and not a drop of coffee has passed your lips. This is the conversation you are strong-armed into:

“What kind of bus is that? Are they going to pick up people? Where's the driver? I can't see him. City Bus has two steering wheels to drive the bus, to drive the City Bus.”

“No, honey, it only has one steering wheel.”

“Why? I saw twwwwwoooo steering wheels. There are two steering wheels. I saw the driver. Are they going to pick people up? I think Alex will be at daycare today.”

OK, so that last part about Alex may seem like a non-sequiter, but it's actually related in Holden's mind. Alex is a little boy at daycare who is autistic. He goes to a special school in the morning, then a bus drops him off mid-day. This is a big event for the pre-school set, seeing an actual School Bus drive up and, wait for it.... stop. Holden talks a lot about Alex anyway. At first, he talked about how Alex doesn't follow the rules. After being told how it takes a while to learn new rules, and how some people may take a little longer than others to do so, Holden decided a couple days later that Alex was like Eddie. Eddie is an autistic teenager who comes to daycare in the afternoon, also on a bus, when his school is over. Holden's teachers said they've never told the kids anything about Alex or Eddie's autism, but Holden seemed to put it together all on his own. We're all impressed.

Another recent change is our ability to actually reason with Holden, instead of just seeing him crumple into a teary mess for no reason. Holden's always been a great advocate. But lately, the bargaining process – while exhausting – has proved quite successful. This is a powerful tool as Holden starts to explore the limits of his independence. Torn between embracing it with gusto and running as fast as he can from anything Big Boy, we're able to use negotiation to get the job done, get him to participate in it and give him the confidence to do it again.

For example, our house is like any other house with young children in the morning when it comes to getting everyone dressed, fed and out the door – on time – on a daily basis. Some mornings, Holden, who is quite capable of many things, insists with a plaintive whine that we do it all – taking off jammies, putting on clothes, brushing teeth, etc. Then, we bargain. Management (us) demands that the union representative (him) take responsibility for the initial teeth brushing, the taking off of the jammies, the putting on of the underwear (clean), shorts and shoes, with a promise that we will help him complete the other, more difficult tasks of socks and shirt. This usually works. And because we've learned to capitalize on Holden's Helper Instinct, he usually gets a three-item list of tasks to do before we go: Return the part of the posse that is remaining at home to his bed (Dino and his blanket), take out a baggie for his breakfast (most days he gets pancakes and Kashi to go) and put on his shoes.

Luckily, life isn't always a battle with anymore, either. Holden has always been a fun kid, but he's become so much more interactive and easy to get along with when he's in a docile mood. Which means that he's not in one of his energy moods during which he runs full-speed from one room to the next, crashing his upper body into the couch, bouncing back and doing it again. Inside all that physical exertion is a thinker. He loves to play Old Maid and Go Fish! And even his regular toy play has become more in-depth with characters who have story lines and purposes.
As always, it's a push and pull process. We're pushing for Holden to do more for himself, branch out a bit and take a chance and, in his own ways, he's pushing away and taking testing his own confidence. Mornings at daycare were once about him clinging and crying. Now, we walk in, he tilts his face toward mine for a kiss and says, “I'm gonna go play, Mommy.” But the pull is there, and it is strong. We pull him back when he tries to take too much of a risk or when his doing it himself would be more bother than help; and he pulls himself back, fearing the unknown, failure and venturing too far from his comfort zone.

But whether we're pushing or pulling, we always end up in the same place. It's a place filled with cuddles, never-ending “I love you's,” and sweet boy kisses. It's a nice place, and it's so nice to be there, together.