Bad Mama Tales, Part 439

Most of the time we can talk him off the ledge of his convictions, but my boy can be very literal in his interpretations of what people say to him.   When he had his last immunizations, he wasn't upset about the needles--he was upset because no one told him they were going to put "holes in his legs".   If you tell him that you are going to give him something, or be somewhere, or take him someplace, then you had better follow through.   He does not yet understand that things happen that we have no control over, or can't help, and he is pretty vocal about his disappointment.  If you say it, make it so.    
It is probably developmental.  I was a pretty literal child, which delighted my father.  I don't know how many times I fell for the "Pull my finger" gag, but that was probably due to oxygen deprivation. (Those of you who have experienced that particular prank understand what I am referring to.)  Zane is just one of those "concrete" kids, for lack of a better description.

If his soccer coach says that it is Zane's turn to kick the ball, then by God, it is HIS turn.  The other players must therefore part, like the Red Sea, and clear the way for Zane to have his turn. We all know that this is not how youth soccer works for four-year-olds.  Every last child out there, and even a few kids on the sidelines,  are doing exactly what they were told to do:  kick the bejeebers out of that soccer ball.  They don't care if there is anyone ELSE trying to kick the ball, and as far as they are concerned, it's everyone's turn. 

For the past three weeks or so, Zane has been having a wall-eyed fit when the other kids don't let him have HIS turn.  He stops everything and starts bawling his fool head off.  Do the other kids care? 

Nope.

They are wherever the ball is, a whirling mass of legs and a single thought:  Must. Kick. Ball.  The coach is down there with his players.  Nobody notices the dramatic performance at the other end of the field, because they are where the action is. 

So my sweet precious baby boy(yeah, he's four, but to me he's still that little 3 pound kid gripping my finger with all his might), is having a fit all by himself out there.  What is a mother supposed to do, in these situations?  The other mothers were watching, ready to snap pictures.

Did I go out there, hug him, and offer encouragement?  Did I pick Zane up, cuddle him and take him out for ice cream?  Did I yell at his coach for missing an Oscar winning performance?

Nope.

I stormed out to the middle of the field, where my son was crying, his hand in his mouth.

"HEY!"  I raised my voice a bit, and put on my Mean Mama face.  Bad Mama.  Zane looked at me, ready to go for the drama, and cried louder.

"SUCK. IT. UP. SON."   Zane looked shocked.  Bad Mama.  

He did stop crying, however, and explained to me in a teary voice about how it was his turn and they wouldn't let him kick the ball....and the rest was lost in those hiccups kids get after a hard cry.  I tried to be sympathetic; I patted his knee and put my arm around his shoulder. 

"This is soccer, son," I said.  Everyone is trying to kick the ball, and if you want to kick the ball then you go and get that ball.  No more whining about not getting your turn. I don't want to hear it."

Then I turned around and marched back over to the sidelines.  I cringed a little, worried about my widdle piddle.  But he was out there chasing the ball like nothing had happened at all.  The rest of practice went perfectly. 

Bad Mama

Zane learned a new trick at daycare. It's all about drama at the daycare these days. Not only is there REAL crying, now there's the fake crying. Not only is there REAL illness, there's the fake illnesses. Not only is there the REAL "I don't know how", there's the fake one, too. All the aspiring actors out there don't need to pay money to an acting school; just spend a couple of weeks studying the kids in my son's class. Lots and lots of drama. I don't know how those teachers do it.

I hate that crap. I have ZERO patience for it, especially after a long day. I think that I deserve a little consideration in this instance. A Get Out Of Drama Free card would be perfect. If I could sit my son down and explain things to him in way that he understood, I would. Three year olds don't speak my language, however, and my comprehension of theirs is always an iffy thing. I just want to explain a few "guidelines", such as "Do not fall on the floor and start bawling because the cat barfed on the Aquaman action figure that did not get picked up last night."

Or "Do not start screaming and hitting because of the No Cookies Before Dinner rule."

Or "Do not say "My tummy hurts" when it is time to take a bath."

And especially, "do not tell the person who buys your favorite food, books, and toys that you don't love them when they ask you to clean up your toys." That is just plain heinous. Plus, it hurts my feelings.

///

"Zane, are you pretend crying?

"Yes."

"Knock it off, kid. Right. Now."

"Okay."

///


The only kind of drama I want to see when I am at home is the stuff on the television. So my responses to Zane's melodramas are probably less than appropriate. My husband usually ends up chastising me for not being sensitive to our son's needs. Except a mother knows when their child is faking.

I'm a bad mama. I don't fuss and give hugs and treats and attention for that kind of behavior. Zane will be an adult at some point, and he is going to want to have a job. Do you think that an employer is going to pay an employee to throw himself on the floor when he doesn't get his way? (actually, in some countries, that probably costs extra) No, it's best to just nip that dramatic but manipulative tendency right in the bud early. It's either that or give the boy an Emmy or something.