(no subject)
Every so often, I feel like I might just have gotten something in this whole "parenting thing" right...
We just got back for the Parents' Luncheon at Zachary's preschool. Happily, both Owen and I were able to make it (though it was a near thing, with Owen's work network being stupid slow while he's working form home and maybe not finished with what he had to do in time for us to get there).
It was a special kind of chaos, as expected. Some kids' parents couldn't make it, so they were upset, parents and kids sitting where ever they could in a room that's almost at capacity with just the kids in the first place... At least we found one of the larger "grown up" chairs for Owen to sit in so he didn't have to stand to eat.
The lunch boxes provided by the schools food vendor were pretty standard box lunches: turkey or ham sandwich, apple, baby carrots, potato chips, bottled water, and a cookie. A pumpkin spice cookie. A pumpkin spice cookie that was far too orange to be simply pumpkin. (I've mentioned on FB, but not here, we're avoiding feeding artificial colorings to Zachary. Red 40 is definitely a problem, we don't know about the others, and I don't feel like doing that experiment, so they're all banned right now.) A quick look at the ingredients, confirmed: Yellow 6.
Luckily, we have a plan in place for this kind of situation: a bag of "safe" snacks for Zachary to eat, kept in the teacher's office. There is pudding there. :-) So we offered the pudding for dessert instead of the cookie he couldn't eat.
Fast forward to the end of lunch... a long lunch... 45 minutes later. It's time for us to leave and the preschool to carry on with it's normal afternoon programming. We never got to the pudding; ran out of time. I thought ("was hoping" is probably a better verb) that he had forgotten about dessert (forgot dessert? really? what was I thinking?); he ate most of the HUGE lunch that had been in front of him. It was more food that I'd seen him eat at one time in awhile. Unfortunately, after throwing out all of the trash from our lunches he then bounces over to me and says, "And now, the pudding!!!"
Except, there's no time for pudding now. And I tell him that. And I watch as his small face freezes, eyes bugged, jaw dropped, his entire body stiffened. "But- I- Wha- awwwww...." I actually watched as his 4-year-old brain grabbed onto the thought of "pudding" and wouldn't let go. What his brain was processing was that he was not allowed to have pudding at all, ever, even though he had been told he could have pudding earlier. And I suddenly have a flash of what to do to prevent the impending explosion over the broken pudding promise. With the chaos of a very full room and lots of stimulation all around us.
I grabbed him and hugged him on my lap and said: "I'm very sorry. I know you're very disappointed that there is no time for pudding right now. Would you like a pudding for a special snack when you get home today?"
"No... I want pudding now."
"I understand you want pudding now, but it's time to clean up from lunch now and start getting ready for the afternoon. I'm sorry that I said you could have pudding before and now I'm saying there's no time. Maybe you could have your pudding for afternoon snack instead of whatever they planned?
"But I want pudding now."
"I know, but that's not possible. I can give you pudding after school, or we can go to Miss Stanley and ask her to give you the pudding for afternoon snack."
"But... I..."
Owen: "Afternoon snack or at home. Now is not an option."
"Zachary, I want you to have your pudding. Let's pick a time when there's enough time for you to have it."
"I want it for snack."
"OK, let's go talk to Miss Stanley and make sure she knows it's OK for you to have your pudding for snack today."
And Miss Stanley had known about the pudding situation for lunchtime and agreed that there wasn't enough time to eat it now, and that snack time would be a great option for pudding-eating. And so, Zachary bounced off to the circle rug with a book, and Owen and I left for the afternoon, with the pudding catastrophe averted.
I think, for a 4-year-old, this is OK. If I'm still doing this when he's 10... then we'll see about getting some help...
We just got back for the Parents' Luncheon at Zachary's preschool. Happily, both Owen and I were able to make it (though it was a near thing, with Owen's work network being stupid slow while he's working form home and maybe not finished with what he had to do in time for us to get there).
It was a special kind of chaos, as expected. Some kids' parents couldn't make it, so they were upset, parents and kids sitting where ever they could in a room that's almost at capacity with just the kids in the first place... At least we found one of the larger "grown up" chairs for Owen to sit in so he didn't have to stand to eat.
The lunch boxes provided by the schools food vendor were pretty standard box lunches: turkey or ham sandwich, apple, baby carrots, potato chips, bottled water, and a cookie. A pumpkin spice cookie. A pumpkin spice cookie that was far too orange to be simply pumpkin. (I've mentioned on FB, but not here, we're avoiding feeding artificial colorings to Zachary. Red 40 is definitely a problem, we don't know about the others, and I don't feel like doing that experiment, so they're all banned right now.) A quick look at the ingredients, confirmed: Yellow 6.
Luckily, we have a plan in place for this kind of situation: a bag of "safe" snacks for Zachary to eat, kept in the teacher's office. There is pudding there. :-) So we offered the pudding for dessert instead of the cookie he couldn't eat.
Fast forward to the end of lunch... a long lunch... 45 minutes later. It's time for us to leave and the preschool to carry on with it's normal afternoon programming. We never got to the pudding; ran out of time. I thought ("was hoping" is probably a better verb) that he had forgotten about dessert (forgot dessert? really? what was I thinking?); he ate most of the HUGE lunch that had been in front of him. It was more food that I'd seen him eat at one time in awhile. Unfortunately, after throwing out all of the trash from our lunches he then bounces over to me and says, "And now, the pudding!!!"
Except, there's no time for pudding now. And I tell him that. And I watch as his small face freezes, eyes bugged, jaw dropped, his entire body stiffened. "But- I- Wha- awwwww...." I actually watched as his 4-year-old brain grabbed onto the thought of "pudding" and wouldn't let go. What his brain was processing was that he was not allowed to have pudding at all, ever, even though he had been told he could have pudding earlier. And I suddenly have a flash of what to do to prevent the impending explosion over the broken pudding promise. With the chaos of a very full room and lots of stimulation all around us.
I grabbed him and hugged him on my lap and said: "I'm very sorry. I know you're very disappointed that there is no time for pudding right now. Would you like a pudding for a special snack when you get home today?"
"No... I want pudding now."
"I understand you want pudding now, but it's time to clean up from lunch now and start getting ready for the afternoon. I'm sorry that I said you could have pudding before and now I'm saying there's no time. Maybe you could have your pudding for afternoon snack instead of whatever they planned?
"But I want pudding now."
"I know, but that's not possible. I can give you pudding after school, or we can go to Miss Stanley and ask her to give you the pudding for afternoon snack."
"But... I..."
Owen: "Afternoon snack or at home. Now is not an option."
"Zachary, I want you to have your pudding. Let's pick a time when there's enough time for you to have it."
"I want it for snack."
"OK, let's go talk to Miss Stanley and make sure she knows it's OK for you to have your pudding for snack today."
And Miss Stanley had known about the pudding situation for lunchtime and agreed that there wasn't enough time to eat it now, and that snack time would be a great option for pudding-eating. And so, Zachary bounced off to the circle rug with a book, and Owen and I left for the afternoon, with the pudding catastrophe averted.
I think, for a 4-year-old, this is OK. If I'm still doing this when he's 10... then we'll see about getting some help...