Slow learner

It took me two years, but I finally realized that I can't ask Henry about his school day. Such questions are met with mute rage and the eventual declaration that HE WILL NEVER TELL ME. Henry once barked at me, "Don't ask me about my business." (Apparently he's been watching the Godfather.) He will not tolerate questions about what toys he played with, how much fun he had, who administered a wedgie to whom, etc. The fact that I was expressly told that I could not know what had occurred at school rendered me even more desperate for information. Once I actually used the argument that I deserved to know about school because I paid for it. As if that makes an ounce of difference to a preschooler, who considers it my unique privilege to wipe his butt.

So after too many days and weeks and months of asking, I took the hint and shut up. And of course he started spilling his guts. Usually this happens well after we've arrived home, after the snack, after he's had some time to decompress, watch a little television, quietly rearrange some Legos. The inside scoop is just as boring as you'd imagine, but I love hearing it. The controversies over blocks! Who ate what for lunch! I can't get enough. I'm still amazed that my son does stuff when I'm not around, talks to people and engages in activities and pees in the correct receptacles. It's like he's a person.

Now that I've learned my lesson, when I pick him up, the only thing I say is, "I'm so happy to see you." He takes my hand, and we walk home together in silence. Then at some point during our walk he'll say, "I'm so happy to see you, too." It takes every ounce of strength not to consider that an invitation to barrage him with questions. It's also difficult not lunge at him and gnaw on his sweet head, which I'm pretty sure is made of marzipan. Fortunately I have developed some self-control, in my advancing years.

Comments

[Carrie]

You are TOO FUNNY. Marzipan. I'm going to file this away and see if it works on my kid.

[The Mom Bomb]

Yup. My kids are the same way. Unfortunately, they're having difficulties in school, now, so it's all I can do to keep myself from grilling them: "Did you finish your work? Did you talk to anybody?" In some respects I miss the days when the biggest issue was what color they used to paint with.

[lora]

oh it works! I oversee parenting classes and this is the first piece of advice we give parents who want their kids to talk.

Kids are kind of dumb (oops! I mean immature) and all you have to do is give them the PERCEPTION of control. It gets them every time!

Another trick is to give your kids fake choices. Give them two alternatives of things you want them to do anyway and they will be thrilled. "Do you want to wear your jeans or your khakis? Do you want to brush your teeth first or put on your pajamas first?", etc.

Too bad 16 year olds aren't so stupid, but it works for them on some level as well.

[SuburbanCorrespondent]

Boys are so cute. They turn into little men just like that. I can't ask my husband about what happened at work, either. I have to wait until he tells me. And then he tells me the wrong parts. He'll start telling me about some project a new co-worker is doing, and I'll have to interrupt him: "How old is she?" "Does she have any kids?" "What type of commute does she have?" He doesn't understand that until I have all the background info, I can't listen to the story.

[lizpenn]

Marzipan head, eh? I'm convinced that my daughter's chubby legs are made of the finest prosciutto. If I ever took a bite I'm sure I would be compelled to gobble them whole, and that would be a shame because I want her to have legs and all. But they would be so nice on mozzarella with a slice of fresh tomato ...

[Beth]

As the mom of a boy, I still remember hearing a social worker speak about how some boys communicate. Apparently there was a Big Brothers event coming up, and the social worker called one Little Brother to confirm his attendance. The boy said the event sounded like fun, but it was happening on the same day that he usually "had to" help his Big Brother wash his truck. Furious, the social worker then called the Big Brother to chew him a new one over making the kid help wash the truck every week. When he stopped laughing, the Big Brother explained that when the two of them (Big and Little) were doing some side-by-side (instead of face-to-face) activity, that was the only time the Little Brother would open up and start talking about what was going on in his life, so he usually made it a point to include him in the truck-washing ritual in order to get the kid to talk more freely. And of course, they did attend the event, and the social worker learned something that day. ;^)

[Ree]

Comes with the y gene.

"Why do you want to know"
"Why don't you ask someone else"
"Why do I have to tell you"

;-)

Can you tell I have a boy?

[Mrs. Who]

No, no, no! It's the neck that is made of marzipan. I have to chew on it pretty often.

[Melissa]

I love this post. And it's totally true. Get them comfortable, give them relaxed silence, and the talking starts. Except for my oldest. But other than him, the talking starts.

[Heather B.]

I hope you don't think that this will change when he gets older, because I can tell you now that it does not. Yesterday my mother tried to ask me about a business trip I'd literally just returned from. The woman bombarded me with questions and wanted details and I had to seriously struggle to keep my shit together because I cannot stand that. Some people - kids of all ages, I suppose - need that time to process and breathe and relax before giving off a detailed report of the day's happenings. I'm glad you're understanding this. My parents still don't get it. Maybe YOU could have a little come to Jesus talk with them about their incessant need to know things. Think about it.

[Rivetergirl]

When my daughter was in kindergarten, I would ask her about her day and she would invariably say, "I don't remember." How could she not remember what she did moments before I picked her up? It was exasperating. Instead I starting asking who got in trouble that day. That worked until it was my kid who was getting in trouble. Yikes!

[Jen in CT]

My gosh, is he four going on fourteen or what? Also, I'm sure my two-year-old's cheeks are made of Marzipan, so I know where you're coming from. Hah!

[babelbabe]

My 7yo NEVER shuts up and therefore I know the teeniest details of his frankly-not-so-exciting school day and that of all his friends. I have learned to grit my teeth and bear it, as soon he will clam up and I won't get anything out of him. But oh my god - just be thankful you don't have to hear who sneezed on who and whose shoelaces were untied and who forgot their lunch and who had what for lunch...

[Jozet from Halushki]

I find that if I open with

"What's the worst thing that happened at school today?"

or

"Who ticked-off the teacher the most today?"

or

"Who was wearing the craziest pants today?"

the floodgates usually open.

[amy]

I found that really touching! A beautiful post about how it is...lovely!

[Anne]

I had the same problem as RiveterGirl - "I don't remember". What?!?! You were just there 12 seconds ago! But the teacher said they need time to process the stuff that went on during the day, so they'll come out with it once they've had a chance to chill out. Now that C is six, she starts talking the minute we get home, and I'm still getting details at bath/dinner/bed time hours later!

[Dory]

[Henry once barked at me, "Don't ask me about my business."]

LMAO! Excellent!

I have two boys and I don't get details until at least 4 hours later.

[Kate]

Nothing pissed my daughter off more than asking her, "How was school today?"
It took me a while to figure out how to artfully ask her the right questions to make it all come spilling out willingly.
"So, how was the hot lunch today?" usually worked pretty well.

[Kate]

Nothing pissed my daughter off more than asking her "How was school today?"

It took me a while to figure out the right things to say to make it all come spilling out willingly.
"How was the hot lunch today?" was a good one that worked a lot.

[Christy]

What a great post! I was just dealing with this same issue this morning when I picked up my preschooler. For the past week it had been like pulling teeth to get information out of her. Today I decided to keep quiet and we weren't 2 blocks from the school before she informed me that she was "waiting." When I asked her what she was waiting for she said, "I'm waiting for you to ask me how my day at school was..did you forget or something?!" I also relate to the strangeness of a child "being a person" while he/she is away from you..such a scary/proud/tearful feeling. As for the marzipan...not such a fan, but my little one's ears and neck are definitely made out of cookies! Yum!

[Blog Starr]

Whew, it's safe to comment again. I knew you all were good mothers, but it was scary over here during Finslappy.

[Em]

From "a preschooler, who considers it my unique privilege to wipe his butt." to "It's like he's a person". You are like the cool and fuuny version of me (or conversely, I am exactly like the chubby, awkward version of you. With a pimple.)

Thanks for the laugh today!

[Amy]

The best part is that he holds your hand for the walk home. My oldest is almost 9 and he still holds my hand when I meet him after school. It makes me melt, even if he won't give me any details.

[Frogdancer]

I think he's 16. Just very short for his age.

That thing about them being seperate people IS a weird thing. I have 4 boys, and 3 of them are old enough to attend the secondary school I teach at. It took a couple of years to get used to casually glancing in a classroom window and seeing one or other of the offspring having a life. Or suddenly seeing a familiar face in the throngs of kids moving to their next class between periods. (But it was fun to actually teach my oldest son drama for a semester two years ago. Well, it entertained me. I'm not sure if he's recovered from the trauma yet.)

[Alissa]

ah yes, the marzipan... i thought they just were washing with maple syrup...

[Julie]

My daughter is very much the same way. She is only in preschool 5 days a week, but I learned pretty quickly after the first few months that there are to be NO WORDS spoken after the initial greeting ("Hi! I missed you, did you have a good day?").

When I test this, I usually get "DON'T TALK TO ME!" or "I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW!"

Alrighty then! I get the point!

[BOSSY]

Oy, parenthood. A lesson in self-control.

[Leeann]

OMG, I loved this post.
My third born is totally like this. He does NOT want to talk about school or be asked about it until MAYYYYYYBE dinner time, if I'm lucky.

I try to be respectful of this because this is something my own mother NEVER got. I would come home from school and she would be all over me, in my face, when I needed time to decompress and sort through my own feelings about my day. I desperately wished she had a job or something so I could come home and just BREATHE for a minute.

Of course, when I wanted her, I wanted her. Right. Then.

And so it is, now.

Leeann
niccofive.blogspot.com

[kyra]

that is so RDI, not that you'd have to know anything about RDI given how wonderfully social and developmentally right on target your beautiful son is! but for those of us with ASD kids, this kind of 'declarative' language, or what they call experience sharing (sorry for all the jargon!) is often exactly what allows our kids to open up!

[Sheila]

My kid once told me, with an exasperated sigh after I'd asked her what she'd done in kindergarten that day, "It's just all so... COMPLICATED." And then she looked at me with genuine pity for all that I didn't seem to understand about the world.

[jenn]

For a minute there I thought you were talking about my own K'ger. boys are weird little creatures thats for sure. But also, as you can see in Henry, they are mini adults, adults that you can squeeze and pinch their cheeks!

[Sarah R]

Funny...my 14 year-old brother still does the same thing, only his vocabulary his slightly more developed so that he only utters, "Uhhhh," when you ask him how his day was, and you get the point.

I guess they never grow out of it?

[braine]

You would do well to wonder...my wife ran into another couple at the coffee shop yesterday and found out that our son had married their daughter at this so-called "school."

[Em]

I think I will name my first album Marzipan Head.

[Terry]

As one of the few men commenting around here, I will point out that while some of this is child development, that some of this is a guy thing, too. Men are like that period... you have to give them that space... even pull away. Think that you have that invisible rubber band... you pull away and then *snap*, they come rushing in assuming that connection is there sonce you have given that space. Henry is smart and intospective for his age... he needs to come down and process... cave time. I'm standing by that as a fellow man.

[Jill]

I am just learning this - my 3.5 would get inthe car and I would drill him with questions. I had to ceasefire when he said "Stop talking, you're hurting my ears!"

[erin]

My daughter does that too. I just ask her "How was your day?" or "Did you have a good day?" and she'll just say yes. Then I wait. And by the time we are done with the drive home she's told me most of what's happened that day, with no prodding from me.

[emilyruth]

i'm so happy to know that this is normal...usually when i ask the answer is either 'nothing. we did nothing' or 'i'll tell you later' & now i will believe it

ps i saw a nice little mention of your blog in a wondertime article this month...very cool

[Manic Mommy]

I was scolded not to 'ever do that again' when I opened his juice box and held the straw to his mouth to take a big sip before handing it over. You know, cause they squeeze and it goes everywhere.

I just happened to do it in front of HRH's classmates. He's five you know. Insert eye roll here.

[Jen M]

Oh my goodness do our boys KNOW EACH OTHER? Because that is the same strategy employed by my kindergartener. Almost to a tee.

They must be unionizing in the bathrooms or something.

[jules]

MARZIPAN! Ha!!!!
Jules
House of Jules

[Missy]

It's so unfair that our job as parents is to prepare our children to leave us one day! My son is still a year or so from preschool age and your story breaks my heart a little...

[elise]

Yeah, my mom still hasn't learned this. After 27 years. Ugh.

[Jenn @ Juggling Life]

As your son gets older you need to befriend the mom of a girl in his class every year--that's my strategy for getting the 411 on what goes on in the lives of my 17 & 14 year old sons. They not only don't want to talk about school, they prefer not to talk at all!

[Sue]

"Don't ask me about my business" - hilarious. Henry is fantastic.

[Ruth]

I find that I have the best conversations with my kids when we're engaged in doing something else, usually something that prevents us from making direct eye contact. It's one of the reasons that I don't mind having to drive them all hither and yon.

[islaygirl]

We have the same problem. The other day on a dog walk she told me something that happened at the school she went to A YEAR AGO where her best friend broke a glass and cut her hand and had to get stitches. I said, "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS?" and she said, "Well, it didn't have anything to do with you, did it?"

She's five. Sigh. I can't ~wait~ for prepubescence.

[Sarah]

I've never commented before, but oh my. We live in parallel universes. The sauce! The secrecy! Only slight details have been changed. Like the name of the kid.

Oh, captain calls. Must go wipe some butt.

[Kathryn]

My silly boy is the same way. I remember when he started 3k I used to drill him with questions the minute I saw him. He would answer every question with, "I don't know.". I'd say, "what did you do in school today?" or "what did you play with?" or "who did you play with?" and his answer was always the same.
I always wondered why he didn't fill me with his usual chatter since he loved school.
Then I went to be the helper for the day at his school. There was SO MUCH activity. SO MUCH going on. It was overwhelming. I was overwhelmed. When I came home that day and hubby asked me what we all did I just said, "I don't know.".

[Summer]

After more than a year of the same struggle, my son and I have compromised. I'll ask him if it was a "thumbs-up or thumbs-down day," and he'll reply, via fingers, on a twenty-point scale of his devising, ranging from the utterly awesome ten thumbs up, to the dreadful ten thumbs down.

Any further questions will be met with a Reaganesque "I don't remember." And yes, it horrifies me that any of my son's behavior patterns can be described as "Reaganesque." It's bad enough that I had to write in his baby book that he was born during the George W. Bush presidency!