Learning To Really Listen
One Of Those Proud Moments
Winston and his sister seem to have some wonderful sibling syncronicity. They both manage to do exciting, wonderful things within days of each other. (Read Imani’s Manifesta on her blog listed to the right - Catatonic Rage Doll)
Tonight, he was busy while I made dinner.
Usually, we do it together. He washes the vegetables and helps me cut them up. (A dinner knife is awesome for allowing an almost 3 year old some independent cutting power. He can cut - read hack and mangle - the mushrooms “all by himself.” This is usually his job - with lots of supervision.)
Tonight, I was able to bang dinner out all by myself. I was thrilled. The mushrooms are neatly cut. The vegetables are uniform sizes. And for the first time in almost six months, there isn’t too much oregano.
I go to serve dinner. I have one last side dish to offer him a choice about. I list the choices. At which point, he announces he would like to make fish.
“We don’t have fish. We have cous cous,“ I say.
“Yes, fish. I would like to help make fish.” His chin gets that firm set.
“We have cous cous.”
“Thanks offering." (I try not to laugh. This is his new phrase, Thanks for offering. It means no way, I'm starting to get dug in.)
"Fish,” He nods and smiles with his hands on his hips.
I’m stuck. He’s a little tired tonight. I’ve got to think quickly.
I remember, last week we had been learning about frogs. One of our activities has been to make the Frog Prince recipe from “Big Cook Little Cook’s” web site.
This week, we’ve been studying fish and marine mammals. So - I thought. We’ll modify the recipe. Instead of frogs, we’ll make fish.
“Okay! Fish it is!” I announce.
He is deliriously happy. As we made the fish, his whole body vibrates with excitement. And I can tell that this is what he had been trying to communicate all along. He’s not old enough to say - “Uh, let’s modify last week’s recipe, Mom.”
And I’m so glad I listened to him. It was one of those great ideas. It impressed his father.
Wish we had a digital camera to take a picture.
Winston and his sister seem to have some wonderful sibling syncronicity. They both manage to do exciting, wonderful things within days of each other. (Read Imani’s Manifesta on her blog listed to the right - Catatonic Rage Doll)
Tonight, he was busy while I made dinner.
Usually, we do it together. He washes the vegetables and helps me cut them up. (A dinner knife is awesome for allowing an almost 3 year old some independent cutting power. He can cut - read hack and mangle - the mushrooms “all by himself.” This is usually his job - with lots of supervision.)
Tonight, I was able to bang dinner out all by myself. I was thrilled. The mushrooms are neatly cut. The vegetables are uniform sizes. And for the first time in almost six months, there isn’t too much oregano.
I go to serve dinner. I have one last side dish to offer him a choice about. I list the choices. At which point, he announces he would like to make fish.
“We don’t have fish. We have cous cous,“ I say.
“Yes, fish. I would like to help make fish.” His chin gets that firm set.
“We have cous cous.”
“Thanks offering." (I try not to laugh. This is his new phrase, Thanks for offering. It means no way, I'm starting to get dug in.)
"Fish,” He nods and smiles with his hands on his hips.
I’m stuck. He’s a little tired tonight. I’ve got to think quickly.
I remember, last week we had been learning about frogs. One of our activities has been to make the Frog Prince recipe from “Big Cook Little Cook’s” web site.
This week, we’ve been studying fish and marine mammals. So - I thought. We’ll modify the recipe. Instead of frogs, we’ll make fish.
“Okay! Fish it is!” I announce.
He is deliriously happy. As we made the fish, his whole body vibrates with excitement. And I can tell that this is what he had been trying to communicate all along. He’s not old enough to say - “Uh, let’s modify last week’s recipe, Mom.”
And I’m so glad I listened to him. It was one of those great ideas. It impressed his father.
Wish we had a digital camera to take a picture.
Comments