Slow learner

It took me two years, but I finally realized that I can't ask Henry about his school day. Such questions are met with mute rage and the eventual declaration that HE WILL NEVER TELL ME. Henry once barked at me, "Don't ask me about my business." (Apparently he's been watching the Godfather.) He will not tolerate questions about what toys he played with, how much fun he had, who administered a wedgie to whom, etc. The fact that I was expressly told that I could not know what had occurred at school rendered me even more desperate for information. Once I actually used the argument that I deserved to know about school because I paid for it. As if that makes an ounce of difference to a preschooler, who considers it my unique privilege to wipe his butt.

So after too many days and weeks and months of asking, I took the hint and shut up. And of course he started spilling his guts. Usually this happens well after we've arrived home, after the snack, after he's had some time to decompress, watch a little television, quietly rearrange some Legos. The inside scoop is just as boring as you'd imagine, but I love hearing it. The controversies over blocks! Who ate what for lunch! I can't get enough. I'm still amazed that my son does stuff when I'm not around, talks to people and engages in activities and pees in the correct receptacles. It's like he's a person.

Now that I've learned my lesson, when I pick him up, the only thing I say is, "I'm so happy to see you." He takes my hand, and we walk home together in silence. Then at some point during our walk he'll say, "I'm so happy to see you, too." It takes every ounce of strength not to consider that an invitation to barrage him with questions. It's also difficult not lunge at him and gnaw on his sweet head, which I'm pretty sure is made of marzipan. Fortunately I have developed some self-control, in my advancing years.

Comments

[Carrie]

You are TOO FUNNY. Marzipan. I'm going to file this away and see if it works on my kid.

[The Mom Bomb]

Yup. My kids are the same way. Unfortunately, they're having difficulties in school, now, so it's all I can do to keep myself from grilling them: "Did you finish your work? Did you talk to anybody?" In some respects I miss the days when the biggest issue was what color they used to paint with.

[lora]

oh it works! I oversee parenting classes and this is the first piece of advice we give parents who want their kids to talk.

Kids are kind of dumb (oops! I mean immature) and all you have to do is give them the PERCEPTION of control. It gets them every time!

Another trick is to give your kids fake choices. Give them two alternatives of things you want them to do anyway and they will be thrilled. "Do you want to wear your jeans or your khakis? Do you want to brush your teeth first or put on your pajamas first?", etc.

Too bad 16 year olds aren't so stupid, but it works for them on some level as well.

[SuburbanCorrespondent]

Boys are so cute. They turn into little men just like that. I can't ask my husband about what happened at work, either. I have to wait until he tells me. And then he tells me the wrong parts. He'll start telling me about some project a new co-worker is doing, and I'll have to interrupt him: "How old is she?" "Does she have any kids?" "What type of commute does she have?" He doesn't understand that until I have all the background info, I can't listen to the story.

[lizpenn]

Marzipan head, eh? I'm convinced that my daughter's chubby legs are made of the finest prosciutto. If I ever took a bite I'm sure I would be compelled to gobble them whole, and that would be a shame because I want her to have legs and all. But they would be so nice on mozzarella with a slice of fresh tomato ...

[Beth]

As the mom of a boy, I still remember hearing a social worker speak about how some boys communicate. Apparently there was a Big Brothers event coming up, and the social worker called one Little Brother to confirm his attendance. The boy said the event sounded like fun, but it was happening on the same day that he usually "had to" help his Big Brother wash his truck. Furious, the social worker then called the Big Brother to chew him a new one over making the kid help wash the truck every week. When he stopped laughing, the Big Brother explained that when the two of them (Big and Little) were doing some side-by-side (instead of face-to-face) activity, that was the only time the Little Brother would open up and start talking about what was going on in his life, so he usually made it a point to include him in the truck-washing ritual in order to get the kid to talk more freely. And of course, they did attend the event, and the social worker learned something that day. ;^)

[Ree]

Comes with the y gene.

"Why do you want to know""Why don't you ask someone else""Why do I have to tell you"

;-)

Can you tell I have a boy?

[Mrs. Who]

No, no, no! It's the neck that is made of marzipan. I have to chew on it pretty often.

[Melissa]

I love this post. And it's totally true. Get them comfortable, give them relaxed silence, and the talking starts. Except for my oldest. But other than him, the talking starts.

[Heather B.]

I hope you don't think that this will change when he gets older, because I can tell you now that it does not. Yesterday my mother tried to ask me about a business trip I'd literally just returned from. The woman bombarded me with questions and wanted details and I had to seriously struggle to keep my shit together because I cannot stand that. Some people - kids of all ages, I suppose - need that time to process and breathe and relax before giving off a detailed report of the day's happenings. I'm glad you're understanding this. My parents still don't get it. Maybe YOU could have a little come to Jesus talk with them about their incessant need to know things. Think about it.

[Rivetergirl]

When my daughter was in kindergarten, I would ask her about her day and she would invariably say, "I don't remember." How could she not remember what she did moments before I picked her up? It was exasperating. Instead I starting asking who got in trouble that day. That worked until it was my kid who was getting in trouble. Yikes!

[Jen in CT]

My gosh, is he four going on fourteen or what? Also, I'm sure my two-year-old's cheeks are made of Marzipan, so I know where you're coming from. Hah!

[babelbabe]

My 7yo NEVER shuts up and therefore I know the teeniest details of his frankly-not-so-exciting school day and that of all his friends. I have learned to grit my teeth and bear it, as soon he will clam up and I won't get anything out of him. But oh my god - just be thankful you don't have to hear who sneezed on who and whose shoelaces were untied and who forgot their lunch and who had what for lunch...

[Jozet from Halushki]

I find that if I open with

"What's the worst thing that happened at school today?"

or

"Who ticked-off the teacher the most today?"

or

"Who was wearing the craziest pants today?"

the floodgates usually open.

[amy]

I found that really touching! A beautiful post about how it is...lovely!

[Anne]

I had the same problem as RiveterGirl - "I don't remember". What?!?! You were just there 12 seconds ago! But the teacher said they need time to process the stuff that went on during the day, so they'll come out with it once they've had a chance to chill out. Now that C is six, she starts talking the minute we get home, and I'm still getting details at bath/dinner/bed time hours later!

[Dory]

[Henry once barked at me, "Don't ask me about my business."]

LMAO! Excellent!

I have two boys and I don't get details until at least 4 hours later.

[Kate]

Nothing pissed my daughter off more than asking her, "How was school today?"It took me a while to figure out how to artfully ask her the right questions to make it all come spilling out willingly."So, how was the hot lunch today?" usually worked pretty well.

[Kate]

Nothing pissed my daughter off more than asking her "How was school today?"

It took me a while to figure out the right things to say to make it all come spilling out willingly."How was the hot lunch today?" was a good one that worked a lot.

[Christy]

What a great post! I was just dealing with this same issue this morning when I picked up my preschooler. For the past week it had been like pulling teeth to get information out of her. Today I decided to keep quiet and we weren't 2 blocks from the school before she informed me that she was "waiting." When I asked her what she was waiting for she said, "I'm waiting for you to ask me how my day at school was..did you forget or something?!" I also relate to the strangeness of a child "being a person" while he/she is away from you..such a scary/proud/tearful feeling. As for the marzipan...not such a fan, but my little one's ears and neck are definitely made out of cookies! Yum!

[Blog Starr]

Whew, it's safe to comment again. I knew you all were good mothers, but it was scary over here during Finslappy.

[Em]

From "a preschooler, who considers it my unique privilege to wipe his butt." to "It's like he's a person". You are like the cool and fuuny version of me (or conversely, I am exactly like the chubby, awkward version of you. With a pimple.)

Thanks for the laugh today!

[Amy]

The best part is that he holds your hand for the walk home. My oldest is almost 9 and he still holds my hand when I meet him after school. It makes me melt, even if he won't give me any details.

[Frogdancer]

I think he's 16. Just very short for his age.

That thing about them being seperate people IS a weird thing. I have 4 boys, and 3 of them are old enough to attend the secondary school I teach at. It took a couple of years to get used to casually glancing in a classroom window and seeing one or other of the offspring having a life. Or suddenly seeing a familiar face in the throngs of kids moving to their next class between periods. (But it was fun to actually teach my oldest son drama for a semester two years ago. Well, it entertained me. I'm not sure if he's recovered from the trauma yet.)

[Alissa]

ah yes, the marzipan... i thought they just were washing with maple syrup...