More on creative play

If you followed last Thursday’s link to the NPR story on creative play (how it’s eroding in our society and how it’s key to building kids’ abilities to self-regulate), there was a sequel to it on today’s Morning Edition that you can listen to here. It focuses on an early childhood program called Tools of the Mind that focuses on self-regulated learning. I’m still deciding whether or not I find the whole notion of filling out paperwork before engaging in creative play spooky or not. But maybe it has gotten to the point where some children have been so untrained in creative play that they need to get some real scaffolding in order to learn how to do it productively? I definitely like the notion of working on play -- or regarding play as work -- as a key piece of a pre-school or kindergarten program. There’s also an interesting little online question-and-answer session at the site between listeners and experts on cultivating creative play in children at home and in school. It includes a plug for Vivian Paley, an early childhood teacher and author whose work I admire.

Just call me Sam-I-am

At dinner this evening I found myself following some advice from Aviva Goldfarb, of Six O’Clock Scramble fame, that I’d already set down in print in my article on her family-friendly meal-planning service. As she put it then: “Instead of making a big deal if they don’t like something, say ‘Well I’m glad you tried it. Our taste buds mature as we get older so maybe next time you’ll like it.’”

So tonight, as I set a Scramble meal before Will – comprised of tri-color rotini, and a sauce with crushed tomatoes, red onion, garlic, red pepper, eggplant, squash and spices – he gobbled up the parmesan-covered pasta but turned up his nose at the pepper, eggplant and squash. This was no surprise, as Will has been rejecting all three of those vegetables for several months now even though I keep presenting to them in different combinations and in various dishes here and there.
So I said, “Just try one bite of this eggplant. You know, as you get older you start to like more and more things. So you might be old enough now that you’ll like it this time.”

Will looked at me skeptically for a moment, and then he must have thought to himself, I AM older. Because soon he was trying that eggplant and expressing great satisfaction at its taste. And then he went right on to gobble up some squash and red pepper too.

“I used to not like squash or red pepper, but now I like squash and red pepper!” he exclaimed. And looking at Rob, he explained: “But see, as you get older you get to like things you haven’t tried. You say, “Hmmm…” (dramatic pauses as if considering a flavor) “That’s yummy!” And then he turned to me, the mom he knows is all too frequently trying to feed him leftovers the night after I debut a new meal. “So tomorrow you can give me this again!”

Then I thought, why not push my luck and suggest that he actually eat one of the token pieces of Romaine lettuce that I’d put on his plate (as I very often do along with a few slices of carrot) just in case tonight is the night that he suddenly realizes he can tolerate raw greens. I knew I needed an extra edge here, so I mentioned the very true fact that he might not like it yet, but that his four-year-old friend Ella LOVES to eat salad.

Will was sold. Granted, he only ate one piece of lettuce but it was a whole piece and that’s more lettuce than he’s eaten all year.

“I like it!” said Will. “Daddy I like the lettuce that Ella had. Ella likes the lettuce too.”

And to top it all off, just minutes after he finished dinner, I caught Will in this teetering pose. “Wow, where’d you learn how to do that?” I asked.

“Ella taught me how to do ballet,” he said.

So tonight, I send out a hearty thank your to nearly-five-year-old Ella who has taught our crude son to appreciate some of the finer things in life – whether it be salad greens or demi-pliés.

A toy for Owen

Scene before breakfast:

Me: “Will, do you think you could get a couple of toys for Owen to play with while I make your oatmeal?”

Will: “But I AM a big toy.”

And he plops himself on the floor within Owen’s grasp so that Owen can commence playing with his favorite toy.

15 moments

At the risk of being supremely cheesy, I’m going to do a little list of happy moments from my day -- a little exercise to remind myself that being a mostly stay-at-home mom is as much endless little gifts as it is endless little chores. (You’ll notice that dish-washing and processing Owen’s cloth diapers didn’t make the list.)

It’s the little stuff:

That last kisses and bear hugs Owen and I shared with Will as he nearly hopped with excitement at the prospect of spending a morning with his friends and his beloved Miss Jodi at school.

Using Rob’s grandmother’s roasting pan for the first time in my life to roast a chicken.

Drizzling olive oil over a whole chicken, laid on a bed of sweet potatoes, onions and baby carrots. Then sprinkling paprika, rosemary, kosher salt, pepper and rosemary over the top. (Even though I don’t do it often, I kind of like cooking a whole bird.)

Smelling that chicken and those spices mingling in the oven and wafting through the house for a couple morning hours.

Reading another woman’s autobiographical journey, so different from my own. Finding pockets of time (mostly while nursing Owen) to actually read a book. (“Eat, Pray, Love” is an entertaining romp through one woman’s search for meaning and love in her life. I’m in the “pray” portion of the book now. And I think it’s all the Yoga/Buddhist-influenced talk about living in the now -- rather than brooding about the past or fretting about the future -- that inspired me to do this list. All ideas I’ve read and found wisdom in before, but I always need reminding.)

Dancing and singing Owen to sleep just before noon, knowing he’d had a too-short morning nap and that this midday nap he was on the brink of slipping into would set him back on track.

Discussing with Will, as we set off in the double stroller to the park, the meaning of the word “glorious,” (the adjective I’d chosen to describe today’s cloudless, windless 70-degree weather, this touch of springtime before the mosquitoes and cockroaches descend on Columbus. Ooops. There I go into the future.) And how “glorious” sounds a lot like “Gloria,” the dog hero in this book we are currently borrowing from the library.

Spotting my friend Terese from a quarter mile away, not because I was close enough to discern any physical characteristics, but because she was hiding behind a tree. (She is the only mom I know who reliably and consistently plays hide-and-seek with her daughter at the park.)

Receiving this gift of a red-bud bouquet from Terese’s daughter, Breigha.

And then this red-bud petal offering from Will (who enjoys following Breigha around).

Watching Owen explore the park on his own level. (Grass, leaves, and dirt are so fun to explore with little hands. And miraculously the kid can go almost a minute without trying to ingest it all.)

Eating dinner on our back deck for the first time this year. Listening to Rob and Will make up stories about how they saw each other at work: Rob was out in the field and Will was driving a tractor.

Listening to Rob’s nonfiction dinnertime stories of happening upon deer and watching parachuting soldiers jump from an airplane during his day in the woods at Fort Benning.

Listening to the laughter from the bathroom as Rob gives Will and Owen their nightly duo bath.

Taking these moments to put it all down.

Try your own list today or tomorrow or one day next week. And if you’re in the mood, share your moments right here.

Miss Linda’s distracted student

I sort of dread the day when Will stops making life at home a world of make-believe. He is always role-playing and asking us to join in. He’ll scold me for calling him Will after he’s already told me a couple times that he is Gibby, the dog. We spent most of this past weekend calling each other Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Brother Bear and Baby Bear in Will’s presence – or else getting scolded because we’d forgetten to use those proper names.

And yesterday Will decided he was a teacher as he sat on a chair reading books to me and Owen in the kitchen. Since I was just a kid now, he chose to call me Annie. (He kept having to tell me to "Pay attention!" as I busied around the kitchen, trying to multi-task but really just being an exceptionally lousy student.)

As teacher, Will called himself “Miss Linda.”

“Miss Linda’s a boy,” he said. And then looked confused. “Or maybe I’m a girl.”

“You could be Mr. William,” I offered (such a boring suggestion). “Boys can be teachers too.” (Granted, there’s no evidence for that fact at Will’s pre-school).

“No,” Will said. “I’m Miss Linda. Miss Linda’s a girl.”

And the lesson went on – interrupted only when ADD Annie had to be told to focus again. Or when Miss Linda stopped reading for a moment to check to see if Annie needed to go to the bathroom. (“There’s one down the hall,” Miss Linda said.)

Backing up, and starting over

After introducing solids to Owen at 6 months, we soon realized that we had also introduced him to constipation. I’d started him on little bits of super-diluted rice cereal because I’ve always read that babies need some extra iron after 6 months. I opted for brown rice cereal, then switched to barley cereal, which is supposed to be less constipating than rice. And all the while, we were giving him baby food prunes, blended pears and peaches, little doses of apple juice, extra water. All of it in small doses and introduced a few days apart, but none of it enough to get the kid going properly and without little squeals of pain.

Then I remembered that one of the lactation consultants who’d advised me with Will had waited until 8 months to introduce solids to her own children. And after talking with her, another lactation consultant and my pediatrician I decided to go back to square one. For a week, I did nothing but nurse Owen. And I watched the little cold he had developed disappear and his digestive system readjust. It’s amazing to me how the introduction of just the tiniest amounts of solid food into a breastfed baby’s diet suddenly breaks down that invincible wall of immunity. It’s nice to know you can build back that wall if you need to.

Now we’re starting all over, trying solids again at seven months very gradually and avoiding almost all processed baby food and cereals. Turns out iron deficiency isn’t a concern for most breastfed babies even after six months. Another reminder for me that a quick check in the handiest reference book isn’t always the best recipe for an individual baby -- and that what worked for Will may not always be the best path for Owen.

Let 'em play

Check out this story, “Old-Fashioned Play Builds Serious Skills,” featured on NPR’s Morning Edition today. Reporter Alix Spiegel looks at how imaginative play helps children develop good self-regulation (a solid predictor of their future success in school). As children play make-believe, they engage in “private speech,” laying out rules of play for themselves that ultimately help them develop a cognitive ability called executive function that helps children self-regulate and control their emotions and behavior. Researchers argue that the less we “set up” play for children, the better we facilitate true imaginative play. So it’s an argument for limiting TV and video-game time; buying fewer toys (a stick makes for more imaginative play than a toy Star Wars light Saber, they say) and especially fewer battery-operated toys; encouraging kids to play outside -- with nature and their imagination as their only props; building more play time into pre-school programs; and generally descheduling kids (because too many lessons and programs rob children of time to imagine on their own).