Frame her vs. Blame her

I'm not sure which bothered me more: the fact that Noah purposely placed his toy right next to Ari, who was laying on the floor at the time, or the fact that he chastised her and repossessed the toy from her slobbery grip. We've been dealing with new baby sister issues longer than we expected, but as down as we get during these episodes we certainly cherish the other moments of contrast.

Making Ari giggle is an addictive game: She bounces up an down, curls up her body, reveals her big dimples and shining eyes, sticks her hand in her mouth and squeaks and drools uncontrollably. Nobody elicits this response as powerfully and easily as Noah. Ari can't get enough of his games like suddenly appearing from behind a door, dancing around the room Risky Business style in his undies, singing loud gibberish, and the grandaddy of them all: his own intoxicating laugh.

Despite his intentional interruptions of her naps, his adamant protests when I hold Ari in my arms, his sometimes violent physical impulses, and his play-by-play announcing of every house rule she unknowingly violates, Noah is still Baby Ari's rock star, her protector and her crush.

As their relationship continually levels out and turns into Klaber vs. Klaber, I hope the competition between these two seemingly strong-willed siblings serves mostly uplifting ends and retains the laughter and adoration we now enjoy.

In Appropriation

In an attempt to keep direction consistent at his preschool and at home, we use the term they recommend: "inappropriate." If there is another child in the room, in this case his cousin Augusta, Noah has a strong tendency to immediately want to play with whatever that child is playing with. After being warned several times that it is inappropriate to take something before the other person is finished, Noah went in for the steal one final time. In response, Mary cut the visit with the grandparents short, and Noah protested adamantly, "I will act appwopwiately! I willll!"

If our school's objective is to make our kids sound so adorable that we can't stay mad at them, then they have succeeded. If their goal is to simply and clearly convey boundaries to our kids, then I'm still not quite sure if Noah gets this word. Since he is a master of appropriation, maybe I can explain the meaning of that word and how he should try to refrain from its practice. Or maybe a word like hurtful would have a better chance of eliciting empathy. Either way, the key is for Noah to consider another person's point of view. Otherwise we will continue playing a perpetual game of tug of war with his impulses and desires as he encounters boundaries by repeatedly bouncing around a dark room.

Appropriate is actually a vague, philosophical and subjective term that is less likely to convey the desired message than a specific and relevant warning. Recent advice that seems to have been effective: "If you touch that thorn, your finger might bleed." In this case the empathy is for his future self. Other instruction has been met with mixed results, often dependent on his current mood. We know that these concepts are not completely lost on Noah, but it is very frustrating to repeat what seem like obvious truths like "you can't kick your sister" or "you really should ask nicely." An additional complication is a disadvantage of specific advice and warnings. Children can take things literally, and circumstances are never exactly the same. Thus, you might need to repeatedly clarify limitations and try to predict all conflicts ahead of time, an issue that laws typically try to avoid by using vague terms like appropriate.

For the most part, we instinctively feel appropriateness. This makes it confusing for us to see our own child hurt a family member, an action which feels so obviously unkind. That's why, for me, it comes back to feelings. For Noah, it feels good to play with what he wants when he wants it, but whether it's because he doesn't want others to take things from him or because he's happy to see how much his cousin enjoys a toy or some other reason, he needs to feel good about not acting on the impulse for this change of behavior to last.

Breath Taking

When you hear me or Mary tell Noah, "Take a breath," you know that his emotions and/or body are totally out of control. The first time I made this request, I was mostly reminding myself to cool down before I dealt with our little guy whose will is inversely proportional to his undersized figure. Taking a breath together became routine, and he even began instinctively asking for a second deep breath.

This week, when there was still time left before dinner, Noah was eagerly awaiting his bath. I agreed to let him splash in the tub earlier than usual, but his excitement got the best of him. I was trying to start the water and undress him while holding Ari in my other hand, but his impulses took over. He turned the cold water handle all the way up over and over, despite my repeated explanations of why he probably wouldn't want to take a cold bath. I told Noah that he had one more chance to listen to me or he could forget his bath that night. I immediately took Ari to a safe place to put her down so I could focus on Noah, and by the time I returned he had TP'd our bathroom. Bursting from frustration, I called off the bath.

Following in the footsteps of his attorney ancestors, he protested, "I listened!" Technically I hadn't recently reminded him of the rule against playing with our toilet paper, but we had discussed this behavior many times before. After a period of wailing and convulsing, he walked down the stairs and ran to the kitchen. From a distance I heard him plead, "Mommy, I want to breathe with you." After a period of silence and a hug (my will power to deny Noah now being sucked out of my body with the exhale), he looked at Mary and asked, "Can I take a bath now?" Though he was clearly playing to his audience for his own benefit, it was still a sweet moment and a sign that our efforts to help him center himself were at least being recognized.

Whether his problems are complex or simple, lasting or fleeting, dire or trivial, I hope he continues to ask us to breathe with him for years to come. When it comes to my family, despite my asthma, I will never have shortness of breath.