It was library day again. And since Benjamin was in such a good mood, I decided to venture on over to Kroger to check off one more item on my to-do list. Unlike the last incident with the beaver, however, Benjamin willingly left the stuffed dinosaur that he had checked out from the library in the car. Whew! We were off to a good start.
We found us a car-cart (it squeaked loudly, but that was okay), and off we went to gather the items on my list. Even though Benjamin wouldn’t keep his upper body inside the toy car and focus on his driving, all was going well. There was the occasional sneaking things off the shelf (like Spongebob bubble bath) and trying to hide them until we left the store, but other than that, Benjamin was doing okay…until he asked for candy at the check-out.
Since we were at the self-checkout, there was no candy. I tried explaining this to Benjamin, but he just wasn’t having it. So he decided to get out of the car and go look for the candy himself.
“Benjamin, you need to get back in the car,” I said kindly. But Benjamin crossed his arms and ignored me. So I had to use a little force. I took him by the arm, led him back to the car, then gently pushed him in. He got back out of the car, only this time he decided he was leaving the store.
“Benjamin, you need to get back here,” I said firmly. But Benjamin kept walking toward the door.
An older man who was sitting on one of the benches at the front of the store also tried to reason with him. “Hey, little man, you shouldn’t be doing that,” he said. But Benjamin ignored him, too.
By this time people were staring at us, probably wondering what I would do next. Well, I did what any mother would do. I left my cart and went and got my boy, pinching his arm as I led him back to his “car”.
“You need to get inside and stay there,” I ordered him.
“I don’t wanna,” Benjamin answered defiantly, as he stood beside the car with his arms crossed.
That’s when my 70’s upbringing kicked in. I gently held him by the shoulder with one hand and gave him a nice sideways high-five ac
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By: Writer Mom,
on 10/15/2010
Blog: Surviving Benjamin (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Blog: Surviving Benjamin (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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The trouble with beavers is that little kids think they’re cute, the stuffed ones that is. And one of those cute little stuffed beavers almost got me into trouble yesterday.
Let me start from the beginning. Benjamin has suddenly developed a love for the library. Could it be that he loves being surrounded by books? Or could it be that he loves that there is space specifically designed for little kids where the only rule that your mom keeps whispering is, “Ben, use your inside voice please?” Or could it be because the library has all these puppets that look like stuffed animals? I vote for a combination of all three--he loves the books, the uninhibited space, and especially the puppets that look like stuffed animals.
Yesterday after allowing Benjamin to play with all the puppets while I found some good books for him, and after sitting down in a cozy spot and reading some of the books to him and several of his new stuffed friends, I convinced Benjamin that it was time to go. But first, we had to put the animals back in their proper places. This duty went well until Ben decided he wanted to keep the beaver.
“The beaver has to stay,” I told him. But Benjamin just held the beaver cradled in his arms and stared at me pitifully.
“Okay,” I relented, “you can take the beaver.” So we checked out Mr. Beaver along with our books, and we get to keep him for seven days. Hooray! Now he’ll get lost somewhere like the rest of the stuffed animals, and I’ll have to pay the library to replace him. But I was soon to find out that the fear of replacing the beaver was the least of my troubles that day.
Since Benjamin was still in a good mood, I decided I could make a quick run to Kroger, the only grocery store I allow myself to take him because they have shopping carts shaped like little cars. But when we get to Kroger, Benjamin wants to take Mr. Beaver in too, and that’s where I draw the line. Benjamin has a habit of dropping things, I think purposely, while we’re in the store. Many toys have been left behind in Kroger and Wal-Mart. The toys from the Toy Story movie would be ashamed of us.
“The beaver stays in the car,” I told him.
But Benjamin climbs out of the car, beaver in hand. I kindly take Mr. Beaver and put him back in the car and we
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By: Writer Mom,
on 10/13/2010
Blog: Surviving Benjamin (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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I don’t take Benjamin on errands with me very often simply because I don’t feel the need to have to beg a preschooler to behave unless it is absolutely necessary. Well, today, I felt it was absolutely necessary to beg him to behave, seeing I had errands to run that I had been putting off for a couple of days. One of those errands was to the post office. Now a trip to the post office shouldn’t be such a big deal with a preschooler, right? You just stand in line and wait your turn and pray that the kid stays by your side. Well, not my kid.
We had already discussed “behaving” while riding in the car. “Can I trust you to behave yourself when we go to the post office?” I called to the backseat.
No answer, which was a bad sign.
“I can trust you to behave when we get to the post office, right, Benjamin?” I asked again.
“Yes!” Benjamin called back. I should have known better….
We get to the post office, and thank the Lord, there is a short line. “This should be okay,” I said to myself. After all, I had reminded Benjamin about behaving six times as we walked from the car to the lobby.
But as soon as we get to the line, Benjamin goes in the opposite direction. “You need to stay we me, Benjamin,” I tell him, as I take him gently by the hand and direct him to the line. But when I let go of his hand and walk toward the counter, Benjamin again goes to visit the stamp machine. I go after him, hoping no one else comes into the post office and takes my spot at the front of the line, where only two customers are ahead of me being waited on at the counter. Two older ladies, who have already been waited on, make a comment about boys being so different.
“Yes, they are,” I reply with a wry smile as I head back to the front of the line, guiding Benjamin along with my hand on his shoulder. And just when I think I’ve made it safely out of the water, Benjamin spots the greeting card rack.
“Oooh, books!” he cries.
By: Writer Mom,
on 10/7/2010
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The other day Benjamin came home from preschool (around 10:40) and wanted to take his bath. Now normally that would be a noble thing for a four-year-old to want to do, seeing that I usually have trouble getting him to do this in the evening. But with Benjamin, I knew something fishy was going on, so I told him, "No, it's not time for a bath right now." A few minutes later I heard the water running in my bathtub.
I knew Benjamin wouldn't buy this, so I took Horton and put him on top of the shower. If Benjamin wanted a bath, fine he could have a bath. But he
was taking it alone, or so I thought. A few seconds later, Benjamin returned from his room with an armload of stuffed animals."No, Benjamin," I said, "you cannot put all those animals in the tub." But Benjamin just stood there not answering me.
"Okay, you can put in one," I relented.
"Okay, Mommy," Benjamin said sweetly.
After running the water, I went to the adjoining room for just a second, leaving Benjamin standing by the tub with his armload of friends.
"Just one, Mommy?" Benjamin called to me and asked.
"Just one, Benjamin," I answered. "A small one."
"Okay, Mommy," came that sweet answer. Then I heard a "plop" as the stuffed animal hit the water.
"Just one, Mommy?" Benjamin asked again.
"Yes, Benjamin, just one," I said again. Then I heard another "plop".
"I said just one, Benjamin."
"Okay, Mommy, just one," said Benjamin.
"Plop."
"Benjamin, no more," I said sternly.
"Okay, Mommy. Just one?"
"Yes," I answered firmly. "Just one."
"Okay, Mommy, just one."
"Plop."
When I came back to the tub, I found it full of stuffed animals...all different sizes, as Benjamin smiled triumphantly, ready to "take his bath".
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By: Writer Mom,
on 10/6/2010
Blog: Surviving Benjamin (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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I must admit… if trophies were being handed out for Preschool-Parent-Of-The-Year, I wouldn‘t get one. I have survived that age twice (but barely). With my first two children (both daughters), I was blessed to have a flexible job where I could work part-time and still afford to send them to preschool full-time. But, when my son was born seven years after my second daughter and twelve years after the first, my life had gone through major renovations.
For one, I was much younger when my girls were in preschool. I’m now in my forties. Two, I am no longer in the field of Information Technology where I can work part-time and make what feels like a full-time salary. I am a writer, a struggling writer, a writer who rarely sees a paycheck…so…I can no longer afford the luxury of full-time preschool without making some major sacrifices.
Also, unlike my daughters, Benjamin has decided he wants to take his time in life…crawl at ten months, walk at fourteen months, talk whenever the mood strikes…so he’s in speech therapy. But that also means he gets to go to preschool for free…for two-and-a-half hours a day. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. I’m glad he is in preschool, learning the alphabet, colors, shapes, numbers…getting ready for kindergarten (I hope). But what about the rest of that long day…after 10:30AM?
Well, I looked at my options. I could put him in an additional preschool program, but I’d still have to pay full price. I could go back to work full-time, but that would interfere with my plans to some day make a living as a writer. I could work part-time, but I’d only be working to pay for childcare. And, again, it would interfere with my writing “career”. So after looking at my options, which didn’t look very promising, I decided I could “survive” this last preschool year with Benjamin. Hence the title “Surviving Benjamin”.
But I knew I could only do this if I changed some things about myself, like not trying to get that trophy for Preschool-Parent-Of-The-Year. I knew I could only survive this thing if I learn to laugh at what might seem like preschool drama and just enjoy the moment. I will survive!
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