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.

Going Vogue

"Daddy, turn on the blue light!" "Alright, Noah. Are you ready to strike a pose?" Noah spread his arms wide and puckered his lips. Then I flipped the switch on his fluorescent blue light to reveal his uncanny resemblance to Ben Stiller's Blue Steel. Our little Zoolander loves to be dramatic, and he has helped me revive my own inner ham.

Together, Noah and I have slow danced to High School Musical 3, led lively parades around the house, pretended to be monsters and robots by putting blankets and empty boxes on our heads, scolded stuffed animals for their inappropriate behavior, and sung our hearts out cause "We all need somebody to lee...ean on."

Although I wasn't exactly afraid to go vogue before Noah, fabulous was certainly not the adjective people would use to describe me. I'm sitting here writing this in my first ever pair of jeans that aren't gigantic, hiding the actual shape and size of my body. I think they're the only pair I've bought in the past 10 years. Noah, on the other hand, often looks handsome and stylish, thanks to Mary's inclination for fashion.

Considering his outgoing personality, showmanship, strong individual will, and utter exuberance, Noah will be turning heads wherever he goes. Throw in his forced smile that looks like he's being simultaneously attacked by a spotlight and a barrage of neck and chin tickles, and he's downright unforgettable.

Nobody knows how much his imaginative, unfettered charisma will affect me, but as long as he's conducting, I'll let my body move to the music. There's really nothing to it.

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.

Treading on Thin Vice

Mary and I finally joined a gym this week, now that we feel comfortable leaving Ari in a playroom for an hour. To be honest, I felt a little deceitful telling Noah about the cool place we were going and how he could play with other kids. Throughout my life I've gone through periods of overdoing things like tv, video games, food and other mostly tame vices. Exercise is my latest insatiable craving.

I got my first taste (in a long time) about two months ago when I started playing basketball on Sunday nights. Never in my life have sore muscles felt so good, and I think I'm actually going to miss the feeling once my body is in shape again. My skills were rusty, but I made up for it with some gutsy defense and creative play making.

I have had varied relationships with the gym over the years, even though the literal experience has changed very little. As a young teenager I was excited to develop pro wrestler-sized muscles, checking myself out in the mirror between each set. I soon became embarrassed in front of the varsity athletes as I failed to move up to the all-important 45 pounders. Then in college I always had a few other things I felt like I should be doing instead. When I finally had more free time than anyone can imagine, living with two roommates and working 9-5, the gym routine had become mundane, and I was only trying to maintain my level of fitness and strength. Thus, an excuse or distraction was easily rationalized.

Although the playroom at our gym certainly isn't Disney World, Noah made some friends, and he displayed a reasonable level of satisfaction with the situation. He thought my muscle-building activities were pretty cool, and he pointed out all of the machines that he was gonna try.

We try to keep our self-focused activities to a minimum, but both Mary and I would admit that our entire family is better off if we treat ourselves a little bit. Sometimes when I feel like I can't take any more of Noah's antics, his behavior probably wouldn't sound utterly horrible to an observer; however, our state of mind, fatigue and health can easily swing our reactions from slightly annoyed to infuriated. As we sneak in a few seemingly simple treats every week, we will continue to balance our desires and our energy, responding to our young children's needs.

Maybe it's the surefire predictability of the activity or the forgotten memory of dripping sweat or the chance to actually accomplish a goal that I set, but the once loathed activity of the treadmill has now become a steadfast gateway to new heights. Or maybe it's just the music blaring out of the hip hop dance class. Either way, "I've got a feeling..."

The Outsiders

After a long hiatus due to relentless snowstorms, Noah and I recently took one of our random walks around the neighborhood. It was good to catch up with our neighbor, Marge, who might as well change her last name to cookie, because that's always the next word out of Noah's mouth after Marge.

The whole experience of being an outsider was brand new to me when we moved to Lebo. Growing up, I didn't venture outside with other people unless there was a planned activity. In fact, I found walking the streets of my neighborhood so boring that my body would unconsciously start jogging to wherever I was going.

Although we didn't have much to show for it except a cookie and some wet shoes, the experience of taking a stroll around the block, chatting with a few neighbors, and hiding behind the bushes from Noah was exhilarating.

When I come home from work I secretly hope that I won't even get my feet through the door, that Noah will be pressed against the glass like a bull ready to charge the ring. For me, coming home is looking for the next dog to pet, stick to swing, Mini Cooper driving by, or just a random person so he can proclaim, "Hi, I'm Noah. We're going to the Hobby Shop!"

The past two years have brought new meaning to the phrase, "Let's take this outside." Compared to completely different phases of my life, sometimes I've accomplished the least but experienced the most being an outsider with my family.

Works in Progress

I recently came across an Economist article about progress, and it reminded me of a course I took at work on managing change; which, in my world, is typically measured by the floor/stomach food ratio or the average length of bedtime routine. Progress, or development, is a type of change so the close comparison is not surprising; however, the application of these concepts to the behavior of young children is interesting.

The science of change is laid out in this Time Magazine examination of the Obama strategy. If you really want people to change their behavior you need to: convince them that it's a good idea, make the change as easy as possible, utilize the power of peer influence, and provide compelling incentives (both positive and negative). What you're really looking for is the combination of the methods above that accomplish your goal with the least effort and/or the least intervention.


Your "calculation" may need to consider future goals and costs, though, since some of these strategies have diminishing returns. The power of incentives tends to decay over time. Originally, I could convince Noah to eat his dinner if I promised him a cookie. Now he might ask for two cookies, ice cream, to watch his favorite show or simply refuse.

Reason as the primary driver of change is the most desirable, because there's no material cost or lack of supply. This method may be more difficult, though, because of the audience. Mental-state reasoning is a major milestone in child development, when the child begins to understand that other people act on the basis of their own representations of reality rather than on the basis of reality itself. At 2 or 3, most children are still realists, which causes them to make assumptions that most adults wouldn't make. Young children also seem to have transient preferences and desires. I've pretty much stopped even trying the phrase, "You loved that yesterday." They focus less on the future and more on their current, concrete reality (unless they're currently imagining that they're a flying dinosaur hockey player). If it's not an emergency, explaining your point of view is usually worth at least some effort.

Considering extreme examples such as the power of automatic-enrollment 401(k) plans, ease of implementation seems obvious; except, some children prefer the exciting challenge of who can race to the mailbox and back to the changing pad faster over the simplicity of laying their body on the floor to allow their diaper to be changed. The latter can actually take longer and be more dangerous for the parent.

Aside from our beloved nonconformists, peer behavior and pressure can often provide the final nudge of desired behavior. Although the reliance on the wisdom of crowds seems to be a natural tendency with evolutionary benefits, our smaller friends are curious by nature as they try to understand their surroundings and test their boundaries. Anyone potty-training a child can tell you that the "Look, he's doing it." argument is not a reliable tool. We've talked to other parents, though, who said that their child finally wanted to lose the diapers because a friend had.

If you still have the desire to influence your child's behavior and augment their development, typical methods are not useless. They require an understanding of your audience and nuanced adjustments to a typical course of action, combined with a healthy dose of patience. As with adults, there are no magic formulas when it comes to predicting and influencing behavior. Sometimes we feel like we're looping through the same tracks, and our cd player is going to give out; but we continue to explain, involve, assist, cooperate, negotiate and, once in a while, manipulate or coerce. No matter how many tracks it takes, this is our passion: our works in progress.


In all honesty, we can benefit our kids just as much, if not more, by applying the same awareness and techniques to our own behavior. We can start by evaluating our core beliefs, principles and strongest desires. We can be aware of our own tendencies, and then we can develop by formulating a clear argument of why we should change, make it easy for ourselves to accomplish our goals, enlist the help of friends and family as well as noticing how they handle difficult situations, and we can even reward ourselves or make sacrifices in response to our own behavior. Our children can be very perceptive, and even if they don't know the fancy terms they will pick up on our progress.

I almost forgot one of the most important things: make sure you find the humor in it all.

Patience, My Dad, Patience

As for most people, Christmas for us this year was filled with family, giving, celebration, joy, fatigue and stress. Making a surprise appearance for me, though, was karma. Noah reciprocated one of my commonly used excuses and made Christmas my first "Someday."

He was having fun coloring with his cousins, and I asked if I could join them at their table. Noah politely responded, "No, Daddy. Maybe someday when you get bigger." The simple assumption would be that he doesn't actually understand what the phrase means, since I usually provide that response anytime he wants to try something dangerous. In truth, he may be more perceptive than we realize since I often use it as a quick and easy excuse if I don't want him to do something; and I don't want to argue with him about it, put up with a tantrum and go into a detailed explaination of the pros and cons of the proposed activity. Thus, it appears that I may have to either adjust my repsonses to his requests or be a very patient man if I want to color with my son, because I haven't grown in a decade.

What probably brought me the greatest joy from the experience was his comfort on his own and with his cousins. It looks like I will be reluctantly observing from a distance more and more as he explores, armed with a purple crayon and his imagination.