A few politically correct adjectives to describe him:
- Wicked intelligent
- Cute as a button
- Well spoken
Wicked intelligentHe is quite adept at knowing when to capitalize on his brainpower and when to let it lie. Cute as a buttonHis darling face is the only thing that's kept him alive on many occasions AnimatedForceful and excitable ArticulateEager to point out shortcomings and share his thoughts on how to improve SprightlyHyper AffectionateHas a propensity for TIGHT, squeezing hugs and bearish pats on the back ChattyThis. Kid. Talks. Nonstop. From the minute he wakes until he goes to sleep at night. WittyUsually has some little quip or wisecrack to add to any conversation OpinionatedOh, you didn't wantask for his opinion? Too bad. You got it anyway...free of charge. Hands-onThe World Wrestling Federation could take some pointers from this boy CreativeHas a bazillion schemesideas that behoove him in some way or another. Well spokenForms grammatically correct sentences and thoughts that would rival any teenager. E.g. "Actually Mama, instead of taking a nap I'd prefer to play with my toys in a quiet manner." (Yes, those words came from his sassylittle mouth). LovingAt any given point in the day that he feels he hasn't gotten sufficient attention he will randomly declare his love for one of us and deliver a cavalcade of unsolicited physical attentionhugs and kisses ProtectiveWill go to great lengths to defend the honor of his precious sister though, in reality is most likely using his creativity (see above) to pummel someone in a hands-on (see above) way. CaringCares about toys, treats, games and fun things in general.
Don't let my sarcastic if not slightly skewed description of The Big One put you off. He really is a smart, charming, funny, sweet boy. He definitely has his faults and drives me to drink
Let me paint a picture for you. A few mornings ago I awoke to the sounds of squeals and giggles. A cheerful way to wake up, no? In some instances, yes. But in this particular instance the squeals were evil and the giggles were LOUD. I hesitantly walked down the stairs to find The Big One at the kitchen table with a Play-Doh set that had been hidden in the garage. Next to him, to my complete horror sat a steak knife. His awesome Play-Doh plan had been foiled by a pesky cellophane wrapper. Hmmmm, what to do? Crafty as ever, he got his stool from the bathroom, reached up onto the kitchen counter and chose a knife from the block. He had sliced open the wrapper and thankfully none of his appendages, then proceeded to happily create. When I happened upon this crime scene I was LIVID! His innocent, impish look infuriated me further. Through blinking (most likely blazing) eyes I started to scream..."WHAT THE H..." I stopped myself mid sentence. See, I go to therapy. I know yelling is not a successful parenting tactic. I know that it only escalates already tumultuous situations. I know. I KNOW, GAWD! My mind is racing with expletives and plans of torturous consequences as I continue....
"WHAT IN THE WORLD DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?", I yell.
"I didn't want to wake you and The Little One up so I decided to get this Play-Doh out and entertain myself", he says logically.
Seething, I send him to his room. I count to ten...thousand. Ok, I'm calm.
Luckily, the day before we had agreed upon the next consequence for bad choices. He had the opportunity to choose and had settled on all day in his room. Even I felt this was a bit harsh for a 4 year old but he'd made the decision on his own so I let it fly. Fast forward to the end of the day and he had indeed spent nearly the entire day in his room.
I'm getting to my point, I swear.
The next morning, while free of Play-Doh incidents, was challenging nonetheless. He was oppositional and sassy. Evey answer I had for him was the wrong answer and would send him into a huffing, grunting rage. By the time we pulled up in front of his school I was already dreading the pick up. It would more than likely include his (poor) teacher's report of the day's mischief. One of his peers would without doubt be going home the proud owner of my child's dental impressions. (Yes, he still busts out the biting card from time to time.) His name would surely be on the red, frowny face section of The Daily Behavior chart. I know, I exude positivity, don't I? But these scenarios are things we're used to dealing with.
Ok. So, I walk into his classroom with my emotional armor on. I'm ready to be tough. Through the sea of little people I see his sparkly, little eyes. He's beaming. Before I could even get to him he jumped up and shouted, "Mama!! I had a DAZZLING day!!!"
Dazzling? An addition to his vocabulary? Cool. It never dawned on me that he might be serious.
Turns out there is an illustrious blue (aka: Dazzling) section on the Daily Behavior chart. And there, all by itself in that beautiful blue section, was my guy's name. The angels sang! A beautiful light shone from above! And, to my great surprise I stood there stunned, crying like a little girl.
It's HUGE victories like these that keep me trying every day. Trying to help him be the boy I know he can be. Trying to understand that he's still a baby. Trying to remind myself that all these exasperating traits that he owns at age four will make him a strong, successful, responsible man. Trying not to completely ruin him. Trying to help myself be the Mama I want to and hope I can be. These shining moments are usually pretty few and far between but when they do show up the sun shines and the birdies sing...and Mama cries.