Soren's strong will has been re-asserting itself this past week. He has become my little rebel: he says "no!" to everything, breaks our rules behind my back, refuses to make eye contact, lies about the contents of his diaper, and ignores friendly people. He reminds me of a surly teenager and I never know how to respond. On my good days, I say, "You don't get to say 'no' to Mommy." Other times, I am left with my mouth hanging open, the situation spiraling out of control, leaving me with no constructive ideas. And sometimes I just can't help but laugh.
Two incidents come to mind. The first happened about a week ago when Soren heard someone take the Lord's name in vain on the radio. He thought it sounded very funny. Much to my chagrin, he repeated it in a loud, enthusiastic voice. I tried to give him a tamer, alternative exclamation to use but he was quite insistent on the original. When he shouted it again (with gusto), I told him very firmly, "No. Do not say that." Of course he said it again. I took his arm and looked him in the eye, repeating "No. We do not say that." As soon as he was free, he looked sideways at me and muttered the phrase again, under his breath. I was speechless. I didn't know what to do so I pretended that I hadn't heard him. Now, looking back, I still don't know what the right response was. He hasn't repeated that particular exclamation again, which is a relief. I think his object was no so much disobedience as experiment. He wanted to know where the threshold of acceptability was. Ideally he would understand that it is never acceptable to profane the name of deity. We'll get there.
That incident reminds me an oft-repeated (and less serious) exchange we have. It is yet-another example of his continuing desire to test boundaries. Whenever we play together in Soren's room, we invariably have the following encounter: Soren starts sucking on his thumb. I gently pull his thumb out of his mouth and say, "You don't need that." He laughs (he always laughs) and puts it right back in. I can't help but smile because I know what's coming. I say again, "You don't need that" and remove his thumb. So he puts his thumb in his mouth but doesn't close his lips around it. And I take it out again with a "You don't need that." Next, he puts his index finger between his teeth. He wants to know if I object to fingers in his mouth, or just his thumb. It's a good question and the answer is just the thumb. I look at him and smile with lips pursed. I'm not going to say anything. He laughs, because he feels like he's getting away with something.
Sometimes, in the moment, I am quite shocked when he keeps pressing an issue. But when I look back, these experiences give me a lot of hope for him. When I make a request, he doesn't ignore or disobey. He tries to define the parameters of my request. His most "rebellious" moments are really just experiments. He is testing the waters and testing my word. He'll find that the rules won't change but that I am very understanding of and amused by his inquiry.
Two incidents come to mind. The first happened about a week ago when Soren heard someone take the Lord's name in vain on the radio. He thought it sounded very funny. Much to my chagrin, he repeated it in a loud, enthusiastic voice. I tried to give him a tamer, alternative exclamation to use but he was quite insistent on the original. When he shouted it again (with gusto), I told him very firmly, "No. Do not say that." Of course he said it again. I took his arm and looked him in the eye, repeating "No. We do not say that." As soon as he was free, he looked sideways at me and muttered the phrase again, under his breath. I was speechless. I didn't know what to do so I pretended that I hadn't heard him. Now, looking back, I still don't know what the right response was. He hasn't repeated that particular exclamation again, which is a relief. I think his object was no so much disobedience as experiment. He wanted to know where the threshold of acceptability was. Ideally he would understand that it is never acceptable to profane the name of deity. We'll get there.
That incident reminds me an oft-repeated (and less serious) exchange we have. It is yet-another example of his continuing desire to test boundaries. Whenever we play together in Soren's room, we invariably have the following encounter: Soren starts sucking on his thumb. I gently pull his thumb out of his mouth and say, "You don't need that." He laughs (he always laughs) and puts it right back in. I can't help but smile because I know what's coming. I say again, "You don't need that" and remove his thumb. So he puts his thumb in his mouth but doesn't close his lips around it. And I take it out again with a "You don't need that." Next, he puts his index finger between his teeth. He wants to know if I object to fingers in his mouth, or just his thumb. It's a good question and the answer is just the thumb. I look at him and smile with lips pursed. I'm not going to say anything. He laughs, because he feels like he's getting away with something.
Sometimes, in the moment, I am quite shocked when he keeps pressing an issue. But when I look back, these experiences give me a lot of hope for him. When I make a request, he doesn't ignore or disobey. He tries to define the parameters of my request. His most "rebellious" moments are really just experiments. He is testing the waters and testing my word. He'll find that the rules won't change but that I am very understanding of and amused by his inquiry.
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