There is a lot of independence happening at our house lately, and I like it.
Well, most of it.
For example, the 6-year-old is finally interested in showers, as opposed to baths, and even washes himself. That’s right, we help set the temperature and desired shower head stream, and leave him to his own devices.
Like his mother, Mikey likes to sing in the shower, which is cute. My husband and I periodically check on him to make sure he’s not getting too much water outside the stall and to keep him focused on washing. Eventually we’ll hear the shower turn off and him call for help stepping out of the tub and wrapping in a towel.
After the first few solo shower experiences, we’ve learned that we can’t let him go too far without doing what we call the “slippery soapy boy check,” because he likes slathering the bar soap all over himself, but he never rinses it off thoroughly.
Almost every time, under duress, one of us is holding him under the spray and hosing him down while trying to wipe the residue off his body.
Another task he recently took interest in is helping me wash the dishes. Mikey likes to pull the foot stool up to the kitchen sink, douse the sponge in about a gallon of dish soap, squeeze it till it gets real sudsy, and then wash the dishes. He leaves the water running, and I have to constantly tell him to turn it off.
The kid doesn’t understand the concept of being on a well.
After he’s done with the chore, we’re left with a drying rack full of dishes that – much like his body after a show – need a thorough rinse, a small flood with possible floorboard damage in the kitchen, and possibly a dry well. But at least the kid is interested in helping out in the kitchen!
More recently, Mikey asked if we could teach him to tie his shoes. I think it’s a little early for that, as many of his classmates aren’t tying their shoes yet, but if he wants to try, what’s the harm. Right?
Oh, there’ a lot of harm.
My husband spent a good hour trying to teach him to tie his shoes, during which I overheard a lot of frustrated grunts and groans from both of them, a few stomps, and maybe even some tears … from which participant, I’m not entirely sure.
Finally, Mikey came to me and asked me to help. A glance at my husband – who raised his hands and his eyebrows in defeat – told me he was frustrated.
No problem. I got this.
“OK, buddy. First you make the X.”
“Yep. I got that part.”
“OK, good. Now, make a loop, and then pull the one lace around and push it through here.”
“But what about the bunny ears?”
“What bunny ears?”
“Dad had me doing bunny ears.”
“Forget the bunny ears. Try it this way.”
Again I had him make one loop, and the pull the other lace around and push it “through here.”
“Here?”
“No, not there. Here.”
“Here?”
“No. Wait, yes. There.”
He followed my direction and pulled, and the laces came apart.
I undid the mess and reset them. “OK, wait, maybe you had it right the first time.”
“Mo-om!” He grunted in exasperation.
“Mikey, listen. Trying your shoes is something you don’t usually do until you’re closer to 8. You’re barely 7, OK? So just, don’t get so frustrated. We’ll work on it a little bit each day.”
He was unconvinced.
A half-hour later the three of us were arguing over which lace to push through where and which loop to pull – all of us nearly in tears. Eventually both my husband and I had to walk away, and let the child just cool off and take a break from his attempts.
And we decided that when it comes time to learn how to drive, we are hiring an instructor.
Holly Crocco is editor of the Putnam County Times/Press and mother of a 6-year-old. She can be reached at editorial@putnampresstimes.com.
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