The Lighter Side of Violence

I probably shouldn't laugh when the bug repeatedly slams a toy either into a flat (and remarkably noisy) surface or against another toy.  But it's just too cute.

Partly because of the flinching eyes, instinctively closing in case pieces fly off in all directions.  Partly because seeing such unintended violence burst out of the sweetest looking baby girl embodies a kind of dichotomy that caters to my darker sense of humor.  Partly because such actions are often preceded, accompanied, and/or followed by top-of-the-lungs sustained vowel sounds not entirely dissimilar to singing.

If by "singing" you can include throat-popping moans a la Peter Boyle in Young Frankenstein.

I worry that I'm encouraging violent behavior by laughing - sending mixed signals and all that.  But, on the flip side, isn't this an important developmental stage?  We need to encourage her to explore her capabilities.  As long as she doesn't start in on the cats.

I've already started thinking of appropriately encouraging Christmas gifts:

• hammer
• drum
• piano
• those weighted bottom inflatable rocking things
• XBox 360 controller

Discipline Ain't Santa's Job

Family on Friday!!!

When you're in a store witnessing a parent attempt to correct their kids' behavior, you only need to pay attention to one thing to tell if the parent gives idle threats, or disciplines effectively - the kids' reactions.  (This time of year brings out the big guns, doesn't it?)

"Stop screaming/running around/getting in people's way/punching/biting/spitting/grabbing/whining/crying...  or Santa won't bring you any toys."

How much time does that give?  A few reminders per store?  Good on you if you can get a weekend out of saying it once.

What about the rest of the year?  I've heard threats of grounding, leaving immediately without getting anything, time out, and some degree of bodily harm.  It seems like neither the parent nor child even pay attention to these idle threats.  Some sick rote they developed out of desperation turned apathy.  Every now and again I'll hear a parent speak directly to the child and the child will cast down their pitchfork and shine their halo.  I love it when I hear "One... two..." and then nothing.

How is it that a few parents have managed to retain control over their kids?  It doesn't have to involve a swing, but it is all about follow through.  If you're going to bother making a threat to get your kids to behave, make sure it's something you're not only prepared to do, but can make an instant part of their reality.  And follow through.

They may cry, plead, correct their behavior, or do whatever it was that they didn't want to as a too-little-too-late effort to avoid the punishment.  No dice.  If they learn that they need to behave before the sentencing and gavel smack, they stand a better chance of knowing to straighten up after the warning next time.  And clean the slate after the sentence is served.  (Parole is for criminals.)

Personally, I advocate rewarding good behavior more often to avoid bad behavior becoming the only way the child can get the parents' attention, but that will be a different post.  At least idle threats are a step up from the parents who pretend like they have nothing to do with the kids until it's time to leave the store.

Miles of Writing

Writers' Wednesday!!!

When I've tutored students (mostly college) in writing their papers, or virtually any homework that involved the use of at least four punctuation marks, one common difficulty stuck out.  They didn't want to write.  I was brought in not so that I could pull their teeth out, but so that I could get a grade that had no bearing on my G.P.A.

They had done all the preparations (research, outlines, references, etc.) and knew what they were writing about. A few of them even had first drafts that they were trying to revise from their teacher's notes.

What did they need me for?

After about ten minutes, they got the drift that I wasn't going to do their work like some Brian-from-Breakfast-Club-left-hanging-with-a-sheet-of-paper-whilst-everyone-else-was-hooking-up.  I've read enough to know that everyone has a particular way of writing.  Their own lexicon, sentence structure, and tone.  Voice.  Any teacher, especially English professors, would know from the first paragraph who authored the paper.

Remarkably few students got reinvested and stuck it out, with me helping, to finish the whole paper.  Most of them just saw how I kick started them and excused me as they took care of the rest.

All of us had to write papers going through school.  Effective communication is a highly prized job skill across the board.  Not all of us had to take singing classes, though we all use our voice. (I guess few care how we sing in the car.)

So why do all disciplines require a high degree of proficiency in a skill set from one particular occupation?  Is being a writer somehow "less" because so many other occupations incorporate writing and then more?  Are runners less athletic because almost all athletes run while performing their other sports' skills?

The takeaway from this for writers is that we have an ability and an enjoyment for writing that most people don't have.  Anyone can run.  Few people love to do it so much that they commemorate a fatal run by getting together in large groups and see if they can go the distance, make good time, and not die.  Non-writers need us.  To convey the message.  Nenikekamen!

Stinkerbell

Years from now, the bug will likely be either angry, embarrassed, or a mixture of both, that I chronicled her flatulence publicly and online.

For now, it's fine.  I can only hope she'll realize that she was only five months old at the time and be able to forgive me.

She's been doing really well eating her gruel.  Only, not much is happening on the other end.  Wifey and I are hard pressed to recall any blowouts in the last couple of days.

You see, the whistle's blowing, but the train hasn't pulled into the station.

Having worked out in the rain and cold for a bit this weekend and slept in dry heat, I'm not getting the full effect of any smells.  However, it's been described to me as cream cheese that's gone bad.

Now that Tuesday's here and I'll be on bug duty for the rest of the week, I know what I have to look forward to.  I've been advised that I may want to have a magazine handy.  (and I can imagine needing washcloths... maybe even the bathtub.)

Speaking of having a gas, we've expanded our repertoire of noises, faces, and actions that really crack up the bug.  The little girl loves to laugh.  Which makes me laugh.  Which makes her laugh.  It's a self-perpetuating cycle until she runs out of gas and needs to sleep.