Week 178: Counting, Spelling, and Tumbling

Long time readers of this series of posts will know that I don’t sweat it too much when it comes to tracking milestones. Should Mandy be talking or driving a stick shift by now? I dunno. She seems happy, though, and things seem to be going fine so who cares? That doesn’t mean that I don’t try to encourage or teach my kids, though, so I do eventually notice a few things. For example Sam, in addition to an incredible memory and creative mind, seems perfectly capable of counting, identifying letters, and even doing some low-end addition or subtraction. When she wants to.

The other day she was out in the yard with me while I positioned some lawn sprinklers in an effort to keep things from turning a lovely shade of khaki out there. Sam immediately got the idea of running back and forth under the sprinkler, but she insisted on my going with her. So we did that for a while, running back and forth on the sidewalk and getting a bit wet as we passed under the arching water. But I eventually decided to mix things up by telling Sam to count in ever increasing numbers between each pass. I know Sam can count up to 20 –I’ve seen her do it. And so I got her to do it for a while, but eventually something clicked in her mood to where she flat out refused to play my game. I’d tell her to count to eleven and then we’d run under the sprinkler, but she’d crouch down on the ground (her body language for “screw you, you’re not in charge”) and tell me she can’t, and that I should do it.

This sort of thing extends to other mental gymnastics, like identifying letters. The other day I invented a game for her where I would write out a “Photography Scavenger Hunt” list, with words like “Cat” “Door” “Food” “Mommy” and “Hyena.” Sam would have to identify the letters in each word, then I’d tell her what they spelled, and she would take her toy camera and go hunting for the object so she could photograph it. I was really proud of myself for thinking this up, because it seemed like learning cloaked in a pretty crafty disguise made out of play. This is the kind of crap that the magazines tell me good parents are supposed to do! Well, this and bake cookies that look like things, but I hate that.

But regarding the photo scavenger hunt, Sam was enthusiastic for a few rounds, gleefully identifying each letter and asking what they spelled so that she could hunt the object down. Then again it’s like something clicked and she tried to tell me that, no, she didn’t have any idea what that letter was, and that I should tell her.

So it’s kind of an emerging pattern. Sam seems interested in learning, but resents being told what to do and decides to turn the situation into a passive aggressive struggle for control. As a result, most standardized tests would conclude that she is about as intelligent as a large dollip of sour cream. But in reality, I know she’s actually pretty smart and can demonstrate it on her terms when she’s interested.

And you know, this all reminds me of someone: ME. I remember even as early as kindergarden getting pissed off at the teachers for telling me what to do and making me do all kinds of dumb activities or recitations. Once in grade school when the teacher asked me to recite the 5s times table (5, 10, 15, 20, 25, etc.) I very clearly remember telling her that I couldn’t do it, even though I was doing it in my head while I professed my ignorance. I just wanted her to leave me alone and let me get back to daydreaming. This kind of pattern persisted all the way through High School, where I learned to do enough to pass, with the exception of a couple of As in classes that actually gripped me. Then when I got to college (because I had no better ideas) and into an environment that I actually liked, I turned into a straight A student within a year. And then I went on after that to get a Ph.D. in Psychology.

So yeah, while I’m a little frustrated with Sam’s behavior I’m not too worried. I’ve seen this before.

I should probably talk about Mandy this week, too, though there’s not too much to report. She’s still getting the hang of eating solids, and we’re looking forward to introducing her to the wonders of strained peas, which I assume are peas that didn’t stretch out before exercising. She’s still not sitting up, but she has really gotten the hang of rolling over, to the point where if we pet her on the play gym she will quickly roll out of it, across the floor, down the hall, and into the garage if we’re not careful. She’s like a human tumbleweed, except cuter and softer.