« Builds character | Main | Quick question »
08/07/2009
I'm too scared to ask what plan C is
This morning before preschool — much to my relief, a recent grant received by his day care facility means I can call it that instead of Stalag 4½ — Charlie asked for paper and pencil. He wanted some drawing time, he said.
Armed with newsprint, graphite, and a rare creative zeal, he sat at his little table in the kitchen and worked for a good five minutes. Then he asked me to write Henry, the name of his best friend, so he could copy it.
I did and he did, laboring over the construction of each letter. While he can produce creditable facsimiles of each letter, he's not yet familiar with the conventional sequence of strokes; I spend a lot of time drawing tiny arrows, making little red dots marking the start of a segment, and painstakingly making dashed letters for him to trace. (I know, there are fonts for that. There are fonts for just about anything.) But his H∃Nʁ√ looked pretty good, and I was proud. "Is that drawing for Henry?" I asked. Because I'm swift like that.
"Yes," he told me. "I drew my plan."
"Great," I said, beaming fondly. "What's your plan?"
"Well!" he said, in a tone of thought-you'd-never-ask. "We are going to dig a hole..."
I gave him an encouraging maternal nod, imagining a small-scale organic gardening collective, or, wait, maybe the footings for a windmill to provide clean electrical power, which they will then provide at no cost to old people. No, I know! A well. A well bubbling up with plenty of pure, sweet water, thoughtfully dug in the service of those who live without clean water.
Or maybe they want to give some poor decomposing creature a decent Christian burial, which isn't quite as awesome, but that would sti—
"...And then when D. [one of his teachers] comes by..."
[Slower, less encouraging maternal nod, smile faltering.]
"...She will fall! In the hole! And Henry and I will run awaaaaaaayyyy!"
Ahem.
Clearly it was time for a capital-T talk about kindness. Tough to do when my sinuses felt like they were going to explode from suppressed laughter, but I managed; disappointment and distress were the moods I worked to convey as I sat on a tiny chair beside him, knees up around my chin, speaking gravely about the importance of other people's feelings, and my hope that he'll always consider how his behavior might affect others, and how kindness uplifts not only the recipient but the giver, and what faith I have in him to make good decisions about how he treats others, and, oh, I forget what all. Probably something about how I'll chain him to the goddamn radiator if he ever digs a hole and lures a teacher into it — patiently, and with understanding, but for weeks.
"I didn't do anything," he insisted. "It was just a plan."
"But it's a mean idea," I said. "Maybe when you have a mean idea about someone, you should try to think instead of something you like about that person." (For your edification, I will illustrate. Sarah Palin sure has...uh, she certainly is...my, she's trim, isn't she? Why, with her neat little figure, you'd hardly know she feasts on all those endangered bald eagles. Stuffed with spotted owls. Processed into Lunchables.)
"I don't like anything about D.," he said darkly, and reluctantly handed over his plan, which I pretended to destroy but actually surreptitiously saved. One day it will be a nice companion piece alongside his inevitable manifesto, and the media will be darned glad to get it. You betcha.
The whole thing made me laugh, but it also made me somewhat uneasy. It's a big damn deal, this responsibility to civilize these horrible little savages we call children. Our obligation to serve as good examples of kindness, moderation, empathy, charity, mercy, and not-luring-unsuspecting-others-into-pits-of-earthen-doom. Speaking of obligation, I considered whether I should warn D. that she's a marked man, but since Charlie's carefully drawn plan seemed to depict neither knots of vipers nor ravening tigers nor any of those wicked-ass sharpened bamboo stakes, and since the only shovel Charlie has access to is a tiny garden trowel more suitable for burying crocus bulbs than unwitting humans, I figured she's probably safe.
Probably. This afternoon I asked Charlie how his day had been, and he was a little bit stormy. "We didn't do my plan," he said grouchily. "Henry didn't want to."
And of course I was relieved. If I couldn't count on the better judgment of my son, at least I could fall back on the more highly developed morals of someone else's. Thank you, better parents! It takes a village indeed. I said, "It wasn't a good plan anyway."
"No," he said, and paused.
And sighed.
"...So instead we'll get a box..."
Comments (40)
Verify your Comment
Previewing your Comment
This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.
As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.
Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.
Bwahahahaha.
As the preschool teacher at a private school who reins with an iron smile (Manners! I insist on Please! AND Thank you! The NERVE!) I empathize with Charlie and Henry. Thank you for exposing one more plot... and dealing with it at home!
And yes, don't worry, we look out for the plan c with those eyes. You know. The ones in the backs of our heads...
If it's any consolation, I was a plotting little kid like that, and I turned out...
Wait, never mind.
I'm sure he just wanted to surprise you with the windmills.
Maybe they have changed their tune entirely and have filled the box with lovely gifts.
Or then again, maybe not.
"It's a big damn deal, this responsibility to civilize these horrible little savages we call children."
Can I get that framed for my wall please? So perfect.
I just hope I have the grace to do it as well as my mother did. Upon reaching adulthood, I realized that not everyone had good table manners, or could be empathatic to others, or says please and thank you. My sisters and I posess these traits, but have absolutely no recollection of my mother ever having taught us any of it. That's damn impressive to see her results without ever seeing her struggle. When (now that I'm a mom and can understand)I know she struggled like hell.
Best preschool story, EVER!
You're right, Sarah Palin does have that going for her...
ROTFLMAO!
Oh, the hole wasn't an escape plan? My 4 y/o Henry is constantly planning his escape from daycare/preschool. I'm crazy for thinking he'll be able to ride the bus home in 2 weeks when he starts at the public school, aren't I.
A couple thoughts. On the plan- this is actually a quite nice way of him being able to express his emotions toward the teacher in what is actually a nonharmful way. At least according to the many aperenting books I've read (starting with Hiam Ginott). As for the writing, the Montessoru program had my children trace a triangle template hundreds of times, always, always, always starting at the top point. By the time they started writing the letters, they automatically started them correctly, because of this prior experience.
it always makes me feel like a jerk-off to read how you handle these things...cause i always laugh and lure them into further conversation so everyone can hear and laugh.
I know I don't know him in real life, but I love Charlie. Your stories about him crack me up.
HAHAHA GENIUS!
About fifty years ago (ouch, that hurt to write that), my sister and I cooked up a similar plan to lure a neighborhood bully into a hole we'd dug, filled with mud, then sprinkled with dry soil on the corner not far from our house. (We were such clever and evil little girls!) We watched and waited patiently, but he never came.
After a time, we lost interest and went home. That afternoon when our father came home from work, he told us that he had to help our neighbor (the nice lady that gave us popsicles) who had fallen in a hole near the corner and had ruined her shoes.
Please tell Charlie that plans often don't work as they are supposed to work...and that our bad deeds can stay with us forever!
OMG, Charlie is hysterical....
I don't remember off the top of my head any specific plots that I may have made in my youth (I will recall them at some ridiculous hour tonight though), but I do distinctly remember my mom saying that she would lock me in the god damn closet/pantry/basement for the rest of my natural born life and she did not mince words. A well placed threat sprinkled with an obscenity or two went a long way in child rearing in my day and she had lots of them.
My favorite one to use on my own kids is "I'll spank you so hard your GRANDCHILDREN will feel it." I rarely ever have to actually spank them but it's effective in a pinch. For my 10 year old son, it's usually "Don't make me spank/embarass you in front of all these people." It works wonders!
I'm not much for bribing kids but I dig threatening them into submission.
Please note that I'm being sarcastic. Mostly.
Hee-hee-hee!!! Sarah Palin...hee-hee...bald eagles...hee-hee...you betcha!!
Thanks for the laugh! :)
Charlie is quite persistent, isn't he? I don't know if I'd have been able to keep from laughing. It can be so hard sometimes!
My younger brother, at the age of three, actually dug a hole in our back yard and carefully covered it with sticks, leaves, and grass, before asking our mother in his typical sprightly fashion if Jack (the preschool horrorshow bully) could come over to play. My mother was similarly filled with pleased-as-punch feelings as to how my brother was reaching out to this poor, underappreciated child, until she saw the hole.
She opened her mouth to explain to him why we don't dig tiger traps for our classmates no matter how many times they have bitten us, but what came out instead was "Kid, this is never going to work, and let me show you why: your hole is 4" across and 3" deep, and will not even hold Jack's thuggish little foot. I'll go get you a bigger shovel."
My brother, to this day, is quite proud of this story. (As is my mother, come to think of it.)
A box? Where do they get these ideas from? That is funny, scary, funny... Now the Sarah Palin comment was funny, funny. And that font! Scary ugly, nothing funny about it (I am a designer and I think I am getting hives from looking at it.)
Charlie is inventive! And at least he has Henry as a conscious, sort of a Jiminy Cricket perhaps? When my kids get up to this kind of thing, I'm always a bit torn. I hate to censor their play, clearly they are having these kinds of thoughts and feelings, and play is how children work through stuff. If they can't play it out, how can they process it? At the same time, I can hardly allow them to try to actually USE the homebuilt Taser they have fashioned out of string and toilet tubes... So when it gets too real, I try to have a chat about fantasy vs reality and how it's fine to play a game, but that it's more important not to hurt anybody's feelings while doing it.
Laughing hysterically, albeit nervously. I do not want to find out what plans he has for me in case he discovers that I found this amusing.
Do not poke the bear.
That said, I hear you on this. My mother once told me that anyone can keep a child alive, but it actually takes skill to be a parent. And it is so hard to explain a grey world to their black-and-white minds. Why it's important to be kind. Why it's important to do the things we do. Why we are telling them they need to keep kosher now but can choose for themselves when they turn 16. Because that inevitably brings out the question: "why will we get to choose" and then "but don't you think we should stick to kashrut? Why are you offering an option?" and then, "why do some people choose to be kosher and some don't?" And so on and so on and so on. And to explain things without overwhelming them or boring them.
Freaks the ever-loving crap out of me. To possibly get this wrong.
But I have met Charlie and he is lovely so you must be doing something right.
My son wants to know why I'm crying (with laughter). He's going to be four next month. I can't tell him. It'll only give him more ideas...
Hilarious! Well sounds like you did a good job convincing him to stay out of trouble. He's quite a character.
Oh, come on, Sarah Palin is a wonderful human being. I mean what's not to like about hunting animals from air planes? Also, she looks great in those little suits she wears... Lol.
Perhaps I should be grateful that my 4-year-old has little exposure to teachers and other children. His imagination is mainly focused on building things (also, we're evil parents who deprive him of drawing materials).
My 2.5 year old told me that he was going to shoot the doctor if I took him there...yeah...direct result of having him in a family day care where he's around the 4 year old boys. He doesn't know what it means, but he knows it's something you say when you're mad. I assume it's a short distance between this and finding a box...
Well at least he's not a boring goody two shoes!
Last night while I was making dinner, T. (5) and B. (3) came in, pointed pretend guns at me and T said threateningly, "Say hello to my little friend!" I immediately chirped "Hello!" to the three-year-old but that wasn't what I was supposed to do, I was told.
Now, I can assure the Internets that neither I nor anyone I know has ever screened Scarface for my five-year-old so I'm starting to believe they just get this stuff out of the air at school. Or possibly the sippy cups.
I have 3 brothers. 98% of boy plans start with "we're going to dig a hole..." My brothers generally viewed the hole as an end in itself but now and then they would make plans to trap the local bully in it.
I've just turned purple from the effort to not laugh out loud reading this at work.
Perhaps Charlie can get to work on reworking this whole health care reform thing - he seems to have the genius for it!
Why does he dislike his teacher so much? That is the question...
Funny story. In years to come, you'll be so happy you wrote this stuff down.
Cori: that Scarface clip is used in one of the Home Alone movies, so that may be the source.
OMG that was so freaking awesome. Perfect for a Monday!
Ha! I love it. I'm sending M. to a new school in a couple of weeks...they're a little more, how do I put this...strict, I guess, about the way the kids play (generally the boys, I'm surmising from the parent handbook). They don't allow "superhero" play and the kids can be booted if any of them pretend to have weapons. What on Earth they'll do when M. points his laser-charged, missle-shooting super-rescue AWESOME Thomas the Tank Engine at them is anyone's guess.
"Uh, Honey, that's quite a lot of weapons for a rescue train, don't you think?" "Well, he has to get the bad people or he wouldn't RESCUE anyone!" (To husband: "I guess it's like the A-Team with trains.")
OMG, but this is FUNNY! (Should I throw in a few more caps and a dozen or so exclamation points? Pretend, if you will, that I did, k?)
Monkey has never yet had a teacher she didn't like. But we've had these conversations, in slightly different contexts-- about appropriate responses, about being firm, but polite, but also, and this is our Old Country heritage showing, about hitting back, if hit first. There are many more topics, as it turns out. And yes, it's a heady responsibility and damn lot of work (a major part of which is in keeping from busting a gut) to raise them into people we'd want to be friends with.
Coincidentally (and yes, I think I am bragging), my sister just told me today that her BFF used to be afraid of kids, but after meeting Monkey, has changed her tune. So I guess we're doing ok so far. Now, if only my MIL didn't insist on making our jobs so.much.harder. Grrrrrrrr.
I love your son. LOVE.
I love the plan.
And, I can't tell you how satisfying it was to go to the TTC font page and type in a little sample message to see how it would look all covered in sperm and eggs. "It is what it is," I typed, and laughed. And then I deleted and replaced it with: "What a bunch of bullshit."
LOL
Yesterday a boy in my 4-year-old daughter's class told me he had a MAP and he was going to GO to Ms. Jo's (the teacher)house. I asked him what he was going to do there and he (looking baffled) said GO! I guess he didn't have all the details worked out either.......
Well Julie, at least he doesn't hold it in and suppress his feelings. It's better to get it all out there so mom can stop any and all "plans" before they occur.
You don't have to be boys to dig hole-traps. Two of my older sisters and I dug a hole for the neighbor to fall into..while he was MOWING! They were 2 and 5 years older than me (I was 4 or so)and had to have known better. They got grounded and I had to stand in the corner. No neighbors were harmed and I just now wonder if he watched then walked over and ratted us out. Three girls in a neighborhood full of kids can't have been the obvious suspects. Tattletale!
We all have a Charles in our family or living next door :0