Developmental Update: Age 3.5, Part 2.
Oct. 3rd, 2008 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaSocial/Emotional Development
Overall, Alex is a nice kid. There's a sweetness to her that always sort of surprises me. She often wants to give things to her friends or share things with her friends, and even when we're telling silly pretend stories she doesn't want to pretend to be mean. She likes to take care of us, given the opportunity. In my difficult first trimester, Alex was always ready to pat my shoulder gently or bring me things that she thought might make me feel better. Sometimes she'll remember things about someone and try to connect with them through their interests, as when she brought a dinosaur book to church to show![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lynsaurus. She's very affectionate with me and Michael - lots of hugging and kissing and lap-sitting. She also tends to be physically affectionate with other adults she knows well - acceberskoorb, wcg, and her favorite babysitters.
Around people she doesn't know, Alex is often shy. Sometimes she's nervous when we have to walk by a group of people on the sidewalk, and she's usually uncomfortable when strangers speak to her. Which they do, a lot, because she's a child in a neighborhood where children are rare, and because she has long, beautiful, shiny blonde hair. She doesn't so much seem to be shy around other kids at school. She is more content than many kids to play by herself, but she does like to run around and play with friends. With her friends she is exceedingly silly. There's a lot of giggling and running and what Alex describes as "goofing."
Ever sincemactavish pointed it out, I've noticed Alex's ability to name and discuss her feelings. I particularly remember a conversation we had in the car, coming home from picking up Chinese food. Alex wanted to have a fortune cookie in the car. She first tried straight appeals - "I'm really, really hungry for a fortune cookie" - went on to make a logical argument - "Dad lets me have a cookie in the car. If one person says it's okay then you should say it's okay." - and finally raised her voice and exclaimed, "I'm really mad and a little bit frustrated!" She's also able to articulate, "I'm angry because ____" and "I'm afraid because ___." At least, she can articulate those feelings when the situation is minor.
Interestingly, though, when she's particularly upset or there is a threatening conflict between us she's likely to fall back onto two responses: "I'm hungry!" and "I'm tired!" Just before Michael went to Memphis to be with his sick father, he and I had a long conversation in front of Alex about Poppy's health. We were trying to communicate urgent information and repeatedly told her, when she interrupted, that it was important for us to talk to each other right now and that she would have to wait. Immediately she claimed to be starving. She was so so hungry that she couldn't wait for attention for one more moment. She got very upset and emotional. But it was clearly the case - and she confirmed this when I asked her about it afterward - that she was upset by our uncharacteristic withdrawal of attention, and that she wasn't hungry at all. A little cuddling when the intense conversation was done solved her problem. Similarly, if we are angry or upset or insistent that she do something she doesn't want to do, she will cry that she is tired and needs to lie down and rest. "Alex, are you really sleepy, or are you sad because Papa and I are angry at you?" "I'm sad because you and Papa are angry at me." I think it's interesting that she can confirm that this is how she feels, but she can't, in high-stakes situations, just start out by reporting the real emotional stressor.
We struggle with the typical three-year-old oppositional behavior at home. She'll go through periods of just being pointlessly provocative - for example, grabbing something of ours and running away to hide it. Or responding to "eat your food or leave it alone" by immediately poking her finger into her sandwich to make holes. Or, least attractively, hitting or kicking us. She never seems to do that when she's actually mad. It's just to stir up shit, and our attempts to address the issue are met by torrents of giggles. It's maddening. The best response seems to be get visibly upset and withdraw our attention and presence from the situation. We don't give "time outs," but I have zero problem with taking one when, for example, Alex has gigglingly kicked me in the breast to keep me from putting her nightgown on her. And it certainly does seem to bother her when I get too upset to be around her. I have to say, though, that this kind of issue is rare.
Things that help, behaviorally: Avoiding hunger and fatigue. Setting routines. Not reacting to provocation. Repetition of stock phrasing of rules. Talking about consequences of behaviors. Rehearsal of behavioral expectations; for example, letting her know just before church that we expect her to sit quietly in her seat or play quietly in the children's corner during "big church," until it's time to go to Religious Education.
Imagination
Pretending gets its own category, because it underlies and permeates everything in Alex's life. "Now we're a cat family," Alex will announce, or "We're mantises, right?" And then we go about our daily business, except that we call each other "Mama Mantis" and "Little Mantis," and I offer her a bagel with mosquito cheese for breakfast. This kind of imaginative play can be incredibly persistent and deeply-rooted; there was a period of six weeks or more, for example, in which she never called me "Mom" or "Mama." Every time she spoke to me, I was Miss Frizzle and she was a new student in my class. Every time, in everything we did, whether she was asking me to narrate one of our Magic School Bus adventures or we were just shopping for groceries or eating dinner. I remember going in to wake her up one morning, and finding her very sleepy and pathetic. She crawled into my arms and murmured, "Hold me... I'm not used to being in your class yet." And we went on that way for weeks.
Other times she makes up elaborate stories about her miniature animals, building schools and towers and castles for them out of blocks and narrating their exploits and activities. These stories tend to revolve around injuries and medical treatment, attacks and biting, family interactions, lectures and punishments, parties (especially slumber parties), social exclusion, and nursery school education.
She has a whole elaborate fantasy, which she keeps returning to, in which she is employed by a company called CDA. She is always bringing out new facts about her job: she goes there on Tuesdays and holidays, and her boss goes to CDA on Fridays. Her work at CDA is buying toys. CDA is located by Alex's friend Zoe's house, close enough that Alex can walk from work to Zoe's house. It's over by the place where they were putting up a new building. CDA has a winery on every floor; she went to the winery with her boss, and the wine had a tag that said "this is okay for kids to drink." And on and on.
She likes to make up detailed and moderately realistic stories about what might happen in the future. "I think the new baby will cry when we're in the car on the way to SUUSI. And I will hand the baby a toy and say, 'Here, you can play with this.' I'll have a whole bag of baby toys for the baby to play with. And I will carry one handle and you will carry the other handle. When the new baby cries, I can give the baby something to play with. I think the new baby will love playing with a rattle. And the new baby will shake the rattle."
Overall, Alex is a nice kid. There's a sweetness to her that always sort of surprises me. She often wants to give things to her friends or share things with her friends, and even when we're telling silly pretend stories she doesn't want to pretend to be mean. She likes to take care of us, given the opportunity. In my difficult first trimester, Alex was always ready to pat my shoulder gently or bring me things that she thought might make me feel better. Sometimes she'll remember things about someone and try to connect with them through their interests, as when she brought a dinosaur book to church to show
lynsaurus. She's very affectionate with me and Michael - lots of hugging and kissing and lap-sitting. She also tends to be physically affectionate with other adults she knows well - acceberskoorb, wcg, and her favorite babysitters. Around people she doesn't know, Alex is often shy. Sometimes she's nervous when we have to walk by a group of people on the sidewalk, and she's usually uncomfortable when strangers speak to her. Which they do, a lot, because she's a child in a neighborhood where children are rare, and because she has long, beautiful, shiny blonde hair. She doesn't so much seem to be shy around other kids at school. She is more content than many kids to play by herself, but she does like to run around and play with friends. With her friends she is exceedingly silly. There's a lot of giggling and running and what Alex describes as "goofing."
Ever since
mactavish pointed it out, I've noticed Alex's ability to name and discuss her feelings. I particularly remember a conversation we had in the car, coming home from picking up Chinese food. Alex wanted to have a fortune cookie in the car. She first tried straight appeals - "I'm really, really hungry for a fortune cookie" - went on to make a logical argument - "Dad lets me have a cookie in the car. If one person says it's okay then you should say it's okay." - and finally raised her voice and exclaimed, "I'm really mad and a little bit frustrated!" She's also able to articulate, "I'm angry because ____" and "I'm afraid because ___." At least, she can articulate those feelings when the situation is minor.Interestingly, though, when she's particularly upset or there is a threatening conflict between us she's likely to fall back onto two responses: "I'm hungry!" and "I'm tired!" Just before Michael went to Memphis to be with his sick father, he and I had a long conversation in front of Alex about Poppy's health. We were trying to communicate urgent information and repeatedly told her, when she interrupted, that it was important for us to talk to each other right now and that she would have to wait. Immediately she claimed to be starving. She was so so hungry that she couldn't wait for attention for one more moment. She got very upset and emotional. But it was clearly the case - and she confirmed this when I asked her about it afterward - that she was upset by our uncharacteristic withdrawal of attention, and that she wasn't hungry at all. A little cuddling when the intense conversation was done solved her problem. Similarly, if we are angry or upset or insistent that she do something she doesn't want to do, she will cry that she is tired and needs to lie down and rest. "Alex, are you really sleepy, or are you sad because Papa and I are angry at you?" "I'm sad because you and Papa are angry at me." I think it's interesting that she can confirm that this is how she feels, but she can't, in high-stakes situations, just start out by reporting the real emotional stressor.
We struggle with the typical three-year-old oppositional behavior at home. She'll go through periods of just being pointlessly provocative - for example, grabbing something of ours and running away to hide it. Or responding to "eat your food or leave it alone" by immediately poking her finger into her sandwich to make holes. Or, least attractively, hitting or kicking us. She never seems to do that when she's actually mad. It's just to stir up shit, and our attempts to address the issue are met by torrents of giggles. It's maddening. The best response seems to be get visibly upset and withdraw our attention and presence from the situation. We don't give "time outs," but I have zero problem with taking one when, for example, Alex has gigglingly kicked me in the breast to keep me from putting her nightgown on her. And it certainly does seem to bother her when I get too upset to be around her. I have to say, though, that this kind of issue is rare.
Things that help, behaviorally: Avoiding hunger and fatigue. Setting routines. Not reacting to provocation. Repetition of stock phrasing of rules. Talking about consequences of behaviors. Rehearsal of behavioral expectations; for example, letting her know just before church that we expect her to sit quietly in her seat or play quietly in the children's corner during "big church," until it's time to go to Religious Education.
Imagination
Pretending gets its own category, because it underlies and permeates everything in Alex's life. "Now we're a cat family," Alex will announce, or "We're mantises, right?" And then we go about our daily business, except that we call each other "Mama Mantis" and "Little Mantis," and I offer her a bagel with mosquito cheese for breakfast. This kind of imaginative play can be incredibly persistent and deeply-rooted; there was a period of six weeks or more, for example, in which she never called me "Mom" or "Mama." Every time she spoke to me, I was Miss Frizzle and she was a new student in my class. Every time, in everything we did, whether she was asking me to narrate one of our Magic School Bus adventures or we were just shopping for groceries or eating dinner. I remember going in to wake her up one morning, and finding her very sleepy and pathetic. She crawled into my arms and murmured, "Hold me... I'm not used to being in your class yet." And we went on that way for weeks.
Other times she makes up elaborate stories about her miniature animals, building schools and towers and castles for them out of blocks and narrating their exploits and activities. These stories tend to revolve around injuries and medical treatment, attacks and biting, family interactions, lectures and punishments, parties (especially slumber parties), social exclusion, and nursery school education.
She has a whole elaborate fantasy, which she keeps returning to, in which she is employed by a company called CDA. She is always bringing out new facts about her job: she goes there on Tuesdays and holidays, and her boss goes to CDA on Fridays. Her work at CDA is buying toys. CDA is located by Alex's friend Zoe's house, close enough that Alex can walk from work to Zoe's house. It's over by the place where they were putting up a new building. CDA has a winery on every floor; she went to the winery with her boss, and the wine had a tag that said "this is okay for kids to drink." And on and on.
She likes to make up detailed and moderately realistic stories about what might happen in the future. "I think the new baby will cry when we're in the car on the way to SUUSI. And I will hand the baby a toy and say, 'Here, you can play with this.' I'll have a whole bag of baby toys for the baby to play with. And I will carry one handle and you will carry the other handle. When the new baby cries, I can give the baby something to play with. I think the new baby will love playing with a rattle. And the new baby will shake the rattle."
no subject
Date: 2008-10-03 10:21 pm (UTC)Someone tired, I expect.
The keeping-imagination-going-for-weeks thing is astonishing. It's not something that happens much here, but even in kids who do do it I've only ever heard of it going on for at most a couple of days without a rest. That's amazing. I'd love to hear more about that, if you ever have the free time to write it up in exhaustive detail.