run-on sentences and christmas patience
Christmas with preschoolers is always interesting to say the least.
Aidan is four, and he is so excited and proud to have gotten gifts for me, his dad, and his sister. He's not so excited about the notion of leaving them under the tree for a whole other 8 days! Being the sensitive mom that I am, I realized how difficult it must be to be the only one with a present under the tree to give, so I quickly wrapped up two modest gifts for each kiddo, and put them under the tree. I explained that these were from me to them, and that we have to wait until Christmas to open them.
Did this make it easier for him to wait? Nope! He told Zela what her gift from him was, sending her into tears because he ruined the surprise. Tears made a reappearance when she begged to open the gift from Aidan, since she already knew what it was, and why in the world should she let it sit under the tree for all this time with that knowledge out in the open?
Evidently, yesterday evening when I was on the phone with Master Control for BBC America, Aidan asked me if he could let Zela open her gift and if he could open his gifts while they were at the dining table drawing pictures for Santa. Also evident is the fact that at some point I must have said yes to someone at BBC, which quickly translated into a yes to Aidan's question. That boy sprinted into the living room, plopped his little butt criss-cross-applesauce in front of the tree and that's when the shredding of wrapping paper began. Zela, being the honest child that she is, ran up to me and asked, with an excited gleam in her eye, if she could open her presents since Aidan opened his.
This is when momshock begins, hyperspeed and emotions take over, and I yank up the gifts that had been carelessly tossed to the side during Aidan's rabid search for more paper to shred. I run to my bedroom to toss them on the bed and lock the door. Now momsob begins, which probably looks more to the kids like mommeltdown, the worst of all momisms.
My tears and frustration were plain as day to my angels who were really, in all reality, completely innocent. Aidan had no idea why I was so brokenhearted, and he's really not old enough to remember how Christmas gifts work. He *did* just have a birthday, and it seems he was given a gift almost daily for a week or more. He was undeniably just a little confused. Couple the recent birthday with the fact that this is truly the first Christmas where this single mama had anything extra to give to them at all, and it truly was an honest mistake.
After this momma trauma incident, I'm willing to bet neither of them open gifts without certainty on the permission factor again.
Aidan is four, and he is so excited and proud to have gotten gifts for me, his dad, and his sister. He's not so excited about the notion of leaving them under the tree for a whole other 8 days! Being the sensitive mom that I am, I realized how difficult it must be to be the only one with a present under the tree to give, so I quickly wrapped up two modest gifts for each kiddo, and put them under the tree. I explained that these were from me to them, and that we have to wait until Christmas to open them.
Did this make it easier for him to wait? Nope! He told Zela what her gift from him was, sending her into tears because he ruined the surprise. Tears made a reappearance when she begged to open the gift from Aidan, since she already knew what it was, and why in the world should she let it sit under the tree for all this time with that knowledge out in the open?
Evidently, yesterday evening when I was on the phone with Master Control for BBC America, Aidan asked me if he could let Zela open her gift and if he could open his gifts while they were at the dining table drawing pictures for Santa. Also evident is the fact that at some point I must have said yes to someone at BBC, which quickly translated into a yes to Aidan's question. That boy sprinted into the living room, plopped his little butt criss-cross-applesauce in front of the tree and that's when the shredding of wrapping paper began. Zela, being the honest child that she is, ran up to me and asked, with an excited gleam in her eye, if she could open her presents since Aidan opened his.
This is when momshock begins, hyperspeed and emotions take over, and I yank up the gifts that had been carelessly tossed to the side during Aidan's rabid search for more paper to shred. I run to my bedroom to toss them on the bed and lock the door. Now momsob begins, which probably looks more to the kids like mommeltdown, the worst of all momisms.
My tears and frustration were plain as day to my angels who were really, in all reality, completely innocent. Aidan had no idea why I was so brokenhearted, and he's really not old enough to remember how Christmas gifts work. He *did* just have a birthday, and it seems he was given a gift almost daily for a week or more. He was undeniably just a little confused. Couple the recent birthday with the fact that this is truly the first Christmas where this single mama had anything extra to give to them at all, and it truly was an honest mistake.
After this momma trauma incident, I'm willing to bet neither of them open gifts without certainty on the permission factor again.