Storytime

About two weeks back, I wrote an entry about my son's latest foray into the wide world of telling jokes. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, it turns out that he's developed a new interest. I now proudly present My Son the Storyteller!

A while ago, our son had begun asking for (and then demanding) original stories made up on the spot. Despite any pretense I might have of one day being a fiction writer, making up stories out of whole cloth and without warning is simply not something I make any claim to being good at. My wife, however, while not really any better at it is always willing to give it a shot.

Up until recently, we've always had a number of cats sharing our home and they had all been rescued from either the street or from a shelter. This provided my wife with a fairly wide array of arguably interesting material from which to attempt to make up stories. Our son absolutely loves them, although I have no clue why, and is currently demanding that we tell him as many of these stories at bedtime as he thinks we'll put up with. At the risk of insulting my wife, these "cat stories" are without exception completely inane and insipid but they do keep our son happy. (I also readily admit that no matter how bad they might be, they are still better than the ones that I come up with).

Yesterday, however, I had a new treat. LR decided that it was time for him to begin telling his own "cat stories." As I explained with his joke telling: "I applaud his creativity. I do. But I also have to sit through them." I now present, for the first time anywhere, the story-stylings of my son. [Note: one of the cats we had was named Mishuganah (pronounced mi-SHUG-ana), which means "crazy" in Yiddish].

1) "Once upon a time, there was a cat. And there was also a crazy cat named Mishuganah. The End."

2) "Once upon a time, there was a cat. And there was another cat. And there was another cat. And there was another thing that was also a cat. And they lived happily ever after. The End."

It's going to be an even longer year than I thought.

Knock, Knock! Who's There?

Well, it finally happened. LR's two weeks' shy of turning four and he's discovered Knock, Knock jokes. We had a Knock, Knock scare about six or eight months ago, but it never really went anywhere. At the time, he didn't really understand what he was doing and all we got was the punchline: "Knock, Knock!" "Who's There?" "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" He would then giggle a lot and walk away. Okay, we could live with that; at least he wasn't making us go through that particularly endless joke. (For anyone not familiar with this joke, just consider yourself lucky and move on with your life).

Now, he still doesn't entirely understand what he's doing, but he knows that it's supposed to follow a specific formula and that it's supposed to be funny. The problem, of course, is that he still has a four-year-old's sense of what is, and is not, funny. Now, I absolutely appreciate the fact that he's actually making these jokes (and I use the term loosely) up on his own and I applaud his creativity. I do. But I also have to sit through them. So far, they are all variations on a single theme and he's repeating them endlessly with all the tirelessness that you'd expect from any preschooler who's discovered a new interest.

"Knock, Knock!" "Who's there?" "Daddy." "Daddy who?" "Daddy YOU!" [followed by hysterical giggling].
"Knock, Knock!" "Who's there?" "Mommy." "[Sigh]Mommy who?" "Mommy YOU!" [more hysterical giggling].
[Repeat the above ad nauseum.]

It's going to be a very long year.

What Type of Parent Are You?

I recently found this test at a mommy blog. I did, however, feel compelled to try and re-brand it as a Prent Test. Yeah, I know;It didn't work. And, yes, I also know it's a corporate gimmick from Verizon. I thought it was cute anyway. (Probably because it said I was a "Terrific Teach" type).

So what do the rest of you get?


T-Mobile Mom to Mom Quiz: "

Take the fun, Mom to Mom quiz and discover your parenting style.

A Parent's Perspective

LR has always had a great ear (naming instruments used in a song, getting word pronunciations in English and in other languages exactly right, etc.), and he's always enjoyed making music. But up until very recently he refused to sing or play music in unison with anyone else, nor did he ever show any real interest in trying to play a tune with any of his instruments. Now, I never expected anything elaborate nor do I even know that other three-year-olds like to do so; I'm just saying he never did it.

So, I was very pleasantly surprised the other day when he began playing Frère Jacques the other day on his rhythm sticks. I was particularly impressed that I recognized it without him having to tell me what it was. We played it together for a while and he just kept improving. Of course, once Mommy got home he was no longer interested in showing off. At least, not right then.

The next morning, a weekend, my wife was awakened by the lovely sound of our son playing a recognizable version of Frère Jacques.....on his cymbals. Once she calmed down from her three-foot jump into the air, she told him what a great job he was doing (what a trooper). Like any good mother, she promptly told a number of friends about his accomplishment. One of these friends, obviously a parent of young ones herself, quickly wrote back and got right to the heart of the matter:

"What in the world could you possibly have done to someone that ticked them off enough that they gave your son cymbals?!?"

The Things We Do

Well, the poor Munchkin's sick. I've had a cold since the end of last week and apparently he caught it. (Although it probably came home with him in that petri dish they call a preschool). Last night he began tugging at his ear and told me it was hurting. Of course, this was about two minutes after the doctor's office closes. He was up most of the night crying on and off despite some attempts on our part to help with Tylenol. At least he got to sleep in Mommy & Daddy's bed.

Went to the doctor yesterday. Normally, this would be ample cause for major anxiety on the part of both parent and child. Luckily, our pediatrician is so incredibly good with him that he actually likes going to see her. No really! As far as he's concerned, a trip to the doctor means pushing elevator buttons, playing with a cool toy in the waiting room, getting read a story and playing with nifty crinkly-paper on the examining table before the doctor comes in, and then getting to play with the doctor. Granted, he hasn't gotten a shot from this doctor's office yet and his viewpoint may change quickly and drastically when he does, but in the meantime I'm definitely counting my blessings.

Anyway, the Munchkin has a "moderate" ear infection (I guess that doesn't sound too bad). He got a panda sticker and an antibiotic. In the past, the couple of times he's needed an antibiotic it's always been Amoxicillin. This usually comes pre-made with what they claim is a cherry flavor but which tasted like used bubblegum to me. No matter, LR loves the stuff calling it "Yummy Amoxicillin." (Yes, he really can routinely get out five-syllable words perfectly clearly and without hesitation).

This time the doctor wanted him to have something a bit stronger. The fact that this new stuff was only one dose per day and didn't need to be refrigerated made it an instant hit with Mommy and Daddy. Unfortunately, this time it came pre-made in what was apparently a not-so-yummy berry flavor. It took a trip back to the pharmacy for a pseudo-cherry flavor, a few drops of food coloring from Mommy in order to match the color of Amoxicillin, and then two hours of coaxing in order to actually get the dose into the sick child. In fact, I was reduced to telling him that this really was Amoxicillin; "Can't you tell from the color and the taste, sweetheart?" This from the Daddy who is constantly reassuring his son with "LR, you know I don't tell you things that aren't true."

But I'm going to have to leave the angst and the guilt for another day. Right now, I haven't slept since Monday night and all I know is that between some judiciously-timed Tylenol and some fabricated Amoxicillin my son is out cold and he's even in his own bed. I intend to enjoy it.

That's My Boy

Well, after yesterday's incredibly depressing entry I decided to lighten up. I came across a blog entry the other day. The blogger explained that he had run across a 50 question, multiple choice test that is supposed to help diagnose adult Autism Spectrum Disorders [ASD]. Obviously, if one is truly concerned about anyone having an ASD they should be contacting a medical professional, not taking an internet quiz. But, that said, he was surprised to see that "it seems like a thumbnail description of your average geek." (Before anyone gets all worked up because he called your child a geek, he makes it abundantly clear that he too is a geek).

Apparently, this observation doesn't even come close to something resembling a new concept. (See: The Geek Syndrome at Wired.com). However, "it's new to me" so I suppose that counts for something. [Those of you who don't remember NBC's bizarre attempt to alter the meaning of the word "rerun," by claiming that if you personally hadn't seen it then it was "New to you!" can read about it here).

Hmmm....I know I had a train of thought in here somewhere. Ah, right! The test. Basically, the test is pretty much what I described above. You can take the test either at Wired or at the Pie Palace .

Of course, given that my wife and I are concerned, perfectionistic, and rather obsessive parents we both took the test as soon as we found it. Basically, it scores your responses to each question and then spits out a number. This is your Autism Spectrum Quotient (AQ). It's on a scale of 1 to 50. The average score for people in the control group (i.e., people who do not have an ASD) was 16.4. Conversely, 80% of the people who had been diagnosed with an ASD scored 32 or higher.

I took it. I got a 26. My wife took it, she got a 31. I can't imagine where he gets it from.

The Ups and Downs

Our son, LR, has always had incredible verbal skills. When you combine a "good ear" (for music, sounds, anything), with an ability to mimic sounds well enough to easily end up in the principal's office for doing teacher impressions, and attach them to an amazing memory you end up with a child who knows one heck of a lot of words. He had even begun learning how to read when he was about 3 1/4 with a natural ease that was just wonderful to watch. Words became just one more toy on his shelves that he wanted to take down and play with.

For some reason, about 5 or 6 months ago, he just stopped. Completely "cold turkey." He would sometimes still want his letter and word oriented videos, he would still, sometimes, be willing to tell me what sounds individual letters, but overall he was clearly just not interested. The number of books he wanted me to read to him also declined.

Then, the other night, my wife started to read a bedtime story to him and he took the and simply began reading it. Well. Very well. He certainly stumbled over the big words (like "especially;" heck, I know adults who would stumble over that one), but he just asked for help whenever he needed it and then went on. He ended up reading her the whole book!

While he definitely needs some help in some areas, it's nights like that that help me get through some of the other days. Thankfully, nights like that are definitely in the majority.