Jan 08 2006
Escapee
My wife, her eyes on something across the room, yelled out, “Oh my Lord!” I looked. Back of the couch. TV. Recliner. Shelves in the corner. Nothing unusual. The look on my wife’s face was utter incredulity.
I pulled my slice of Domino’s Pizza away from my face. “What is it?” I asked.
A and S, who stood beside us talking and flipping through some books I let them borrow, looked across the living room.
Then, a tiny voice pierced the silence.
“I got out of timeout.”
It was Ben, but I couldn’t see him until I stood. He rushed across the room, a huge smile spread across his face and a large booger hanging from his left nostril. We all did the usual turn-so-the-kid-can’t-see-you-laugh move. I doubt that works, but we tried.
To understand why this was strange, you need to know how timeout is done in our house. From the start, we’ve always used Ben’s Pack-n-Play. Perhaps that was not the best approach, because it physically confines the child rather than relying on his or her own self-control. Nevertheless, it is the method we’ve used.
And Ben had climbed out. All 2.5 years of him. Free. That proud grin on his face, he repeated his new mantra over and over. “I got out of timeout. I got out of timeout.”
Now, some don’t believe in timeout at all. I think it can work, and I’ve seen children who would rather walk on hot coals than be in timeout. They scream the whole two or three minutes. While he doesn’t go in there very often, he never complains at all when he does. In fact, he babbles and makes comments as if he’s just in another place where he can use his imagination. We know he understands why he’s in timeout, because we ask him to tell us before we take him out.
It seems that he was at least a little bit bothered by it that time. Getting a timeout while friends are over — he could do without.
Some parents believe a good, old-fashioned spanking fills the disciplinary bill just fine. I believe the effectiveness of various methods depends on the child. I base this opinion on painstaking lunch hour interviews of a former co-worker bringing up five kids between the ages of two and eight. Okay, once I asked him how he disciplines his kids. He said that spanking works great on some, not at all on others. Likewise with timeout. A spanking wouldn’t do much through Ben’s thick layer of Huggies.
I’m not saying we’ve never given Ben a wrist slap or a thigh smack. Whenever possible, though, we just tell him “no” and try to redirect his attention. Even the small slaps on the wrist feel wrong to me, and there are arguments that children will learn violent behavior. I don’t pretend to have the answer, but I would hope that children can discern between punitive parental slaps and hitting out of anger. Sadly, in some households there is no difference.
Whoa, let’s shift this bus out of D(epressing). I’ll just end this train of thought by saying that any suggestions for getting through the “terrible two’s” are welcome.
Ben and I are watching Sesame Street right now, and the pig is cracking me up. The Big Bad Wolf is planning some time off, and is holding auditions for a temp:
Big Bad Wolf: The next part of Big Bad Wolf tryouts — pig chasing. (pig appears)
Telly: That doesn’t look like one of the Three Little Pigs.
BBW: This is a rehearsal pig. His name’s Maurice.
Pig: Some people consider me the fourth Little Pig.
BBW: No they don’t, Maurice.
Pig: Well, they should.
While other characters are chiming in that they would love to chase the pig:
Elmo: Oh, yeah, I can’t wait!
Zoe: Yay, let’s go!
Pig: I could take it or leave it.
During the chase, as the pig falls exhausted into Gordon’s arms:
Pig: I’m sweatin’ like a… thing… that sweats. A great deal.
That reminds me of a scene from an older episode, wherein a royal trumpeter (the man who runs Hooper’s store) is blaring out a few notes to announce the King (who happens to be Cookie Monster).
The trumpeter holds up a long bugle and blasts out a noisy attempt at a proper introduction, then pulls the horn away from his mouth in breathless desperation.
King: Let me guess, you no go to Juliard.
Cookie Monster’s bad grammar notwithstanding, that’s funny right there. If you don’t get the humor (or humour) in it, then just keep your eye out for the next time someone gets kicked in the groin. You’ll love it.
Now you’ve just got to hide the video camera and record him climbing out. That’s the only way you’ll know if there’s a tumble involved, or if he’s making a clean getaway. “I got out of timeout.” I love it.
On another note, you have to be careful about reciting Sesame Street. We had one family member try that if you’ll remember, and it didn’t work out too well. :- )
There are premonitory signs of my own boy’s commencement of the Terrible Twos. Though hopefully, if his demeanour to date has been any indication, it’ll be more along the lines of a regular toddler avoiding them. (We of course think the boy’s character nearly infallible.)
Hmm, I don’t know what a “pack and play” is, so no comment there.
Reminds me of a story.. when my son was small and said those words that every parent hates to hear “I hate you”.
I finally had had enough, and took him by the hand to his room, whereupon we began packing a backpack full of his clothes. He asked “What’re you doing?”, to which I said, “well, if you hate me, you can’t live here…. so we’re packing you some warm clothes”.
By the time I walked him to the door, he was crying so histarically, he swore he’d never do that again… and he never did.
Now, a friend down the street tried the same thing with his daughter (after I told him of the trick), and she said “Ok, see you later Dad… and left”. HE ran crying down the street to catch her…. LOL
Just when you think you have the upperhand……….