So to conclude and end this series on 5 life skills, I would like to summarise on my thoughts.
Firstly, this was quite a difficult series to write. It taxed my brain to come up with relevant superlatives when describing the skills, as they were quite similar.
It was also quite challenging to narrow it down to just 5 skills; let’s face it; we want to teach our children everything.
The reason I settled on these 5 is quite vicarious. I reflected on my life and the mistakes that I’d made, including the people who I’d allowed into it (for too long..) and focused on the skills that maybe, would have helped me make better decisions.
I recognise that I have the benefit of hindsight and also that memory is a sketchy thing once exposed to our inherent bias’. I also recognise that as a parent, we can do everything that we think is right, but free will will come into play.
This doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t try.
Here is a link to all 5; please enjoy responsibly and as ever, thank you for your support.
‘The quality of having a modest or low view of one’s importance’ oxforddictionaries.com
For the final part of this series, I wanted to look at humility within children. I came across quite a bit of advice in books on modesty in adults with the premise that is better to undersell then over deliver, than to do the opposite. I guess the exception to this rule would be during an interview, when you have a small window of opportunity to sell yourself.
For me, the goal is again about striking the right balance. I want to instill the confidence to try new things in order to find out what they are best suited to. Everyone is good at something so whatever it is that they settle on, and eventually excel at, I want them to recognise their own ability to achieve without crushing the spirit of others who are not so fortunate. All whilst ensuring that they still have drive…
In the world of competitive martial arts, there have been occasions where I have recognised quite quickly that I have an opponent outclassed; as a result, I’ve made sure that I did enough to win but not to humiliate. I recognised that my opponent had trained hard to get to this point in their fight career and while they had not made the grade on this occasion, they would hopefully use the defeat as a springboard for more focus and eventual success. I know I certainly did.
I want my cubs to know:
Everyone is good at something
Find your thing; then excel
The stairs to success have a couple of floors marked failure
The green-eyed monster
The power of quiet..
What a creepy photo…
If everyone is good at something, and I truly believe that they are, then it’s the appreciation that no one is good at everything. It slightly eases the pressure on them, without diminishing the desire to try new things.
Once you find that thing, then do it to the extreme…
I remind them that many will see the end result of success but most will be blind to the hard work that leads to it. Failure is necessary as it provides learning opportunities and [for me] serves to increase humility.
Defeating envy. Spot it first. Recognise why it happens then recognising the signs in others. There are two options of dealing with envy in others; 1) Ignore it or 2) Offer advice; after all, envy in others can be borne of a desire to achieve.
As for envy in oneself, I refer you back to my first point.
My favourite skill is silence. I doubt I want the cubs to use it the way I do because I’ve managed to weaponise it. Actions speak louder than words; let the empty cans make all the noise.
If you judge a fishits ability to climb a tree… that watershed moment when they nail something that they enjoy doing is priceless. The motivational driver has switched from external to internal, in that they now want more of that feeling so will keep doing it. They then recognise that they can replicate this feeling in other ventures.
The trick is to celebrate the success appropriately which I don’t think I’d mastered myself.
‘The quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate’ oxforddictionaries.com
Maybe its just me, but kindness seems to be in short supply these days. It could the news outlets I watch but the media seems to be full of hateful intolerance. This is probably why I watch less news now!
As an adult, I like to show random acts of kindness whenever possible, although this has become a bit of a balancing act. In my recent experience, kindness can easily be mistaken for weakness and if you don’t establish proper boundaries, plenty will seek to take advantage of that.
I still prefer to offer a hand if I can.
I want my cubs to know how to:
Be kind to you first!
If you can help; do help.
First and foremost, children have to learn how to be kind to themselves! I catch my cubs in negative self talk quite often and I’m quick to challenge it. As earlier readers may remember, I’m big on autosuggestion. I try to reframe their points of reference, whenever I hear a ‘I’m not very good at that’, I ask them to add the word ‘yet’. I then remind them that no one is born good at something and that while natural talent can play a part, discipline, determination and self-belief are usually the strongest determining factors.
Negative self-talk will kill any ability you have to help others because a lack of self-belief will leave an opening for exploitation.
For reasons of self-preservation, kindness, at any given time should be a finite resource. We need to teach limits and for our children understand the need to draw a line in the sand. They’ll have to learn what their tolerance levels are which initially will have to come from experience. Recognising patterns and learning these lessons will help them make better decision in the future.
Active listening! hear [sic] we go again. My cubs have listening down to a fine art. Usually things I don’t want them to hear. Things that they will only then repeat again in company. People will always tell you who they are; you just have to listen.
Balancing the needs of yourself versus that of others is a valuable skill. You must put your needs first, but help where you can. Time is the most precious gift you can give but take care that it is not wasted.
Cubs will emulate the most influencial adults in their lives. If we engage in negative self-talk, they will too, because we’ve normailsed it. I try to openly congratuate myself for things, or reflect on an event where my acting differently may have produced a different outcome. I externalise my inner thought processes for them to hear.
I’m a bit of a fan of Freud, so watching the cubs develop through the id, ego and superego was fascinating. Without dipping too deeply into the structure of human psyche, toddlers are controlled by the id and the immediacy of their desires, as this is necessary for survival. Young schoolers learn to control those desires through the development of the ego and superego. The id and the ego will set limits! if a situation isn’t beneficial then interest is quite quickly lost. In the development of the superego, selflessness is a new attribute to wrestle with. I don’t think that swinging pendulum stops until well after the teenage years.
As this sense won’t develop for a while for my two, I’m happy for them to roleplay sharing and sympathy until they find a natural level they’re happy with. Youngest’s helpful side shows itself in acts of independence such as tidying his room. He’s pretty bad at it but there are two important factors at play; 1) he gets a sense of accomplishment and 2) he thinks he’s doing it for me. It works. Eldest will often interupt her own play to help me with a chore, especially if she thinks I’ve been on my feet for too long. I called her chief helper when she was younger.
Conscious of cramming too much learning into tiny minds, I try not to rob the cubs of their childhood and their right to get things wrong.
Positive reinforecment of desired behaviour is most effective; I try to live these attributes and lead by example. They experience me listening and giving time. They also experience me setting limits; not just with them, but with others. I help others when I can but more importantly, if I don’t help someone, I’ll explain why.
True kindness is an act of strength! but the greatest acts of kindness should be spent on oneself.
‘Courage in pain or adversity’ oxfordditionaries.com
One of the most difficult elements of writing this 5 part series was putting these life skills in some order of importance. I tried, but eventually gave up. The irony of me admitting this on a blog entry entitled fortitude is not lost on me, but the reality is that any combination of these attributes are what is needed to succeed in life.
Life is tough. It’s also the most amazing gift but that perspective won’t chime with this entry! Determination will get you over a great deal of life’s obstacles and to the prize on the other side.
As a parent, I want the cubs to realise that failure is a part of success. The approach here slightly mirrors that of my approach in the courage blog entry, but that is intentional. Concentric lessons are reinforced positively, and this is where learning happens.
I want my cubs to:
Embrace the fall and learn the lesson
Avoid the herd
Be the lone voice
When my eldest was in transition between crawling and walking, I observed her with fascination. I watched her figure out her terrain, mapping textures and adjusting her cadence. Most memorably, I watched her master a chair, in order to sit at the dining table. She scrambled, grunted, yelped a couple of times, looked to me once or twice, but continued with focus, once she realised that I wasn’t going to do it for her. Eventually, she manoeuvered the chair correctly, made herself enough space and sat at the table. The place that she had earned.
In giving the cubs the courage to speak up, I hope to empower them to be the lone voice. Not everything they will be told will be correct and not every action they observe will be moral.
Parentally, I encourage them to explain to me why they’re upset when they burst into tears, or what led them to lash out in the on-going sibling battle for primacy. In doing this, I hope to enable them to vocalise when they feel wronged as adults, although it’s also important that they can differentiate between that and keeping their own counsel.
The importance of this is that they shouldn’t feel the need to run with the herd, ridiculous pack animals that we are.
Finally, goal setting. At their age, most goals are predetermined. I do add some in, and encourage them to set their own. Goals are challenges that lead to growth. Growth leads to reward.
In my humble opinion, the best way for cubs to learn most of these is to play! Play often; in different environments, with different people and different games.
Like most sentient beings with nurtured offspring, life’s lessons can be learnt through the dress rehearsal that is play. That is, if we as parents let them get on with it!
I will discuss events with them when play goes wrong, in order to help process things as play invariably goes wrong, but that’s the plan.
One thing that I’ve noticed writing this 3rd installment, is just how much overlap there is in these life skills. I guess it’s because they’re based on my own value system
I guess the challenge for me would be to teach the cubs to master skills that I don’t posses or that are lacking in my personality.
As 2018 draws to a close, I’m moving into reflection mode.
So much has happened since the start of the year; some things I’ve enjoyed sharing, others I’ve kept a little closer to my chest. I like to get things near to completion before I publisice them to the world these days. It’s a response to my prior habit of announcing my intentions too early..
I feel I’ve grown; a lot. I’ve watched my cubs grow too, as I’ve continued to nurture their development the best way that I can.
I’ve matured into the co-parenting role too. On reflection, this wasn’t the easiest of years in that respect. The challenges that I have faced crescendoed to such a frustrating level that I genuinely feared for my health at the start of this month. That’s behind me as thankfully, self-care kicked in.
Bonds of words have been broken, so I’ve drawn a line in the sand. The final straw being Christmas Day. The cubs were blessed with gifts. Not so much with attention. That left me frustrated but determined, that it will not happen again.
For me, the power of relection is to take the opportunity to learn. It isn’t about regret, as life is too beautiful for that. I promise you, if you search hard enough, there is a positive message in every single negative event in your history. It’s your job to recognise and capitalise on it.
I am so blessed that simply focussing on what is in my life is enough to make me smile out loud.
The cubs have their issues, but none are insurmountable. Plans are in place to deal with those.
Carry on with the plans, unabbaited. They’re progressing nicely, but require concentration and patience.
Build better relationships based on my values, mutual benefit and reciprocity.
Focus on my health. Healthy eating, exercixe, good food, fresh air and relaxation.
Kill procrastination; my greatest foe.
For the cubs
Reflecting, has got me reflecting. What do I want to teach my children? what do I want them to learn?
I narrowed it down to 5 life skills. I’m going to discuss one every week from the 5th January. I hope you enjoy them.
I never fail to marvel at the complexities of the human body; especially my own.
Over the past two or three months, I have been suffering. A nagging tightness in the chest that began to radiate. This eventually caused headaches and dizziness, but it was not too long before pain and discomfort spread to my left arm.
I have rudimentary medical training. It comes with what I do. I suspected cardiovascular issues, but in a ridiculous act of fear induced denial, I did no more than wait, for far too long. Eventually just before Christmas I finally sought medical help.
The NHS wasted no time. I was plugged in, X-rayed, stethoscoped and generally very closely inspected by anyone who had served time at medical school. My GP even went to the extent of phoning me twice, in the evening.
I quickly received a letter from the Rapid Access Acute Chest Pain Clinic in my local hospital. They wanted to see me on the 21st. The letter stressed the importance of attending the clinic, but also attempted to reassure that an appointment was in no way indicative of a heart condition.
I could not ignore the pain; it was now a constant.
Sitting in the waiting room I held the company of many. Noticeably all much my senior and in varying degrees of failing health, I could not feel anything other than incongruous.
A nurse called my name.
It was ECG time again. I was asked to strip to the waist and lie down. For the ease of parking I’d travelled on the bike so my attire was a little of a hindrance as the nurse needed access to my feet for the sensors. It took longer to hook me up than it did to get a reading. Rather than getting dressed fully, I put my teeshirt back on.
Returned to the waiting room, I looked even more out of place.
I was eventually summoned by a more mature lady in scrubs, with a stethoscope around her neck. I duly followed.
She sat me down and asked me to remove my teeshirt again, so she could listen to my chest and back. I breathed in and out as requested as she moved her pre-warmed device to various locations on my torso.
She then prodded and poked.
“Does this hurt here?”
Not so much
My chest spasmed and contracted away from her touch.
The Clinical Practitioner sat down. “Tell me when it hurts; for example, how do you feel on exertion?”
The pain usually subsides or is non-existent.
“Ok” she said, as she took off her glasses.
“It is my opinion that you have nothing wrong with your heart. Your ECG is fine; your blood pressure is fantastic and your bloods, although you show slightly elevated levels of cholesterol show nothing else”
I tilted my head in curiosity.
“You’ve torn a pectoral muscle working out”
So, basically, I thought I was dying, but I’ve just…ripped a tit?
She smiled. “Yes”
I laughed. Very, very loudly and slightly hysterically. She began to laugh too. This continued for some time, to the point where her colleagues came in to see what was happening.
I apologised to her [and the entire NHS] for wasting her time.
“Better to be safe than sorry” she reassured.
Sitting astride my bike I reflected on how my mindset had changed at the impact of such a serious illness. I’d rescued my diet, taking Omega3 oils and eating a clove of garlic a day, as well as ensuring that I got my 5 a day.
I’d also considered creating video diaries for the cubs, should the eventual prognosis be, not so good.
I’m lucky. I already have a healthy regard for life and I try to remain grateful for everything I have, not less my gorgeous cubs. More importantly, it was the reality of my mortality while they are so young that weighed heavily upon me. Selfishly, I didn’t want to be without them. Watch this space…
For now, I’ve dodged a bullet but it served as a good reminder to maintain a healthy lifestyle; sleeping, eating and exercising well.
I might give the kettlebell swings a miss for now though.
About two months ago (maybe more) my body started to feel differently. When I say my body, I mean my chest. When I say my chest, I mean, the area where my heart is. I really couldn’t think of a better way to write that..
In the tail end of the last year, things started to really ramp up in both my personal and professional life. I changed roles in my workplace and was given a baptism of fire. It was more full-on than I had experienced in a very long time. My energy was being pulled in every direction; I had to relinquish some activities and my beloved BSD blog suffered neglect. I had to prioritise.
Two other elements of my life became neglected; my fitness and my diet. Skipping workouts became the norm as did convenience foods. Processed crap was back on the menu as contactless payments at a fast food outlet are a lot quicker than putting basic ingredients together into a decent meal.
I had my annual fitness test at work, which I scraped through. I put it down to age but decided that I would schedule some moderate workouts.
The intention to train three times a week was there, but the intent fell away to other pressures quite quickly. They were only short workouts too, but intense; I value HITT.
Coparenting was failing. Apart from missing the cubs due to an inequality in access, things had taken a more sinister turn on the maternal side. Details aren’t for this entry, but I will disclose in time. It spurred me to take action.
More time; more energy needed; more stress.
The creeping realisation that my energy reserves were actually a finite resource was always a difficult premise; historically I’ve solved most things by going at them harder but this was getting more difficult as a game plan.
Something had to give.
I’d been lying to myself about the pains I had been experiencing. Infrequent at first, then more regularly. A pressing feeling in my chest, towards the left and in the upper quarter. Easy to dismiss as anything too serious, but hard to ignore due to its persistence.
A gym session will shake it. Or a run. Or perhaps a bit of fresh air.
At Christmas; it became almost impossible to ignore, worse still, I was now getting irregular, but strange sensations in my left arm. Then, one day, into my jaw. Even without any medical training, this should be a red flag to anyone. I went to see the Doctor.
Well actually, I registered with a new surgery and undertook a general assessment, as is the norm. I told the nurse of my pain; she immediately strapped me in to an electrocardiogram (ECG). It took longer to connect the leads than it did to take a reading.
The nurse ripped off the ticker tape, took one look at it and left the room. I didn’t take it as a good sign. She returned quickly, apologised and informed me that she had taken it to the Doctor for a quick look. we did the rest of the assessment, which turned out to be questions before she left the room again.
On her return, she said that the Dr wanted to see me in a couple of days. This reassured me slightly, as an appointment in a couple of days would be futile if I was in immediate trouble.
The National Health Service (NHS)
Later that evening, my phone rang. It was my new Doctor. That worried me. He told me not to worry, but he was making sure that I was going to attend the appointment with him in two day’s time. Absolutely I was.
Later that week, sat in front of the General Practitioner, he went through a series of questions.
Do I smoke?
Do I exercise?
Does the pain increase or decrease with exercise?
Do I suffer from anxiety or depression?
Do I suffer from pain in my calves?
Do I have dizzy or vacant spells?
Had I ever used drugs?
Had I ever taken steroids?
Strangely, I took the last question as a compliment. I guess I hadn’t slacked off that much. Men’s minds.
He then asked me about what I did for a living, and my working hours. When I told him the hours I worked, he put his pen down and stared at me.
“Mr (enter real name); imagine you have a brand new car and over the space of two years, you put 150,000 miles on that car; what sort of state do you think that car will be in at the end of those two years?”
Is it a Toyota Hilux or Landcruiser?
He stared through my attempts to deflect from the truth.
“I would seriously consider reducing the hours you work”
Easier said than done. He then booked me in for bloods and a chest X-Ray.
Having answered ‘yes’ to a lot of the wrong questions I was asked, I went home to stew. What if the pain in my calves that I had experienced during training sessions wasn’t muscle soreness but thrombosis?
Had I been neglecting something obvious or had six month of prolonged stress (probably longer) finally started to take its toll?
Whatever the outcome I admitted to myself that I’d left it far too long before seeking help. So many ailments can be treated successfully with early intervention. I knew that, but had neglected to act in my own best interests early on.
Bloods done I was slightly annoyed that the nurse stuck me in the arm that I hadn’t mentally prepared. I hate needles. But, I’m pretty fond of being alive so I sucked it up. I had the day off so I immediately presented myself to hospital for an X-Ray. After driving round looking for a parking spot, I went home and transferred to two wheels. I was in and out extremely quickly.
The next day the Doctor rang me. Again. I think I might store him as a regular contact. My bloods were back and my Cholesterol was high. Very high. I reflected on a Christmas of biscuits and rich cakes. I was relieved. High Cholesterol was a precursor to more serious heart conditions, but it was also treatable with lifestyle changes.
My Doctor, who was clearly not taking any chances and was an extremely thorough man had also referred me to the Rapid Access Chest Pain clinic at my local hospital. I was worried again.
I realise, and am reminded time and time again of how good the health service is in the United Kingdom.
I don’t usually end a piece with a direct message and in fact, this is not the end as I have my appointment at the clinic tomorrow but, I want to ask anyone who reads my words to make sure that you act early on any health concerns that you have. Don’t leave it, don’t try to walk it off and don’t wait. Modern medicine can do amazing things if given an early opportunity and dedicated health professionals will bend over backwards to ensure your wellbeing.
In the sprint up to Christmas, it’s a time of many birthday parties and events; the cubs and I are busy.
My weekend will be punctuated by one, 6th birthday party tomorrow but first, my two are due an eye test.
This was a fall out event from daddy having a new prescription a few weeks back. The optometrist and I got chatting and I realised that the cubs had never had an eye test. I booked one in.
Our last visit was a mirthful event as they were both on top form. At one point, the optometrist had to put the tools of her trade down as she was laughing so much. Apparently, say cheese! was not the correct response when looking for retinal scarring.
As we head toward the opticians, I ask them both to run through the rules of engagement (we’ve adopted these to keep innocent people safe from our shenanigans).
Always say please and thank you;
Look where we are walking;
We’re not as funny as we think we are; keep it down.
More can be added dependant on circumstance and occasion. For this occasion, we also included ‘swivel chair rotations will be limited to 180 degrees; no exceptions’.
‘Ok dad; we’ll keep operations obtuse’ chimes in the eldest, impressing me. Youngest nods agreement, but I’m unconvinced he’s on message.
Having watched me get tested, their reluctance to sit in the chair and cooperate is non-existent. Youngest goes first, on a machine that checks the condition of the retina, an autorefractor. His sister positions herself expectantly near the viewing screen.
The assistant adjusts his chair to bring him in line with the machine. ‘Try not to move and I’ll adjust the machine to you‘. He nods. And moves.
‘Ok; this time, try not to move…‘
He nods. then moves.
This happens three more times and I can tell that attrition is having an affect on the assistant. Before I can address the issue, eldest positions herself behind youngest and administers an effective headlock. That does the trick.
Picture taken and a ‘that all appears fine‘ from the assistant is cue for a quick scuffle. It seems that youngest wasn’t going to let the headlock go unanswered.
Her turn next. As she sits herself down, her brother eagerly gets behind her to begin a revenge headlock. I assure him that it’s not necessary, and plop him on my lap.
She’s the model of a model patient and the optician is impressed. A second ‘All good‘ is exactly what daddy wants to hear.
I begin to walk out but the I’m stopped. Apparently that was just the pretest. I thought that was too easy.
We’re moved to the room with the wall charts.
In turn, the cubs have various devices strapped to them and are asked to read, decide and look for numbers in colours. The tonometer makes them both jump and giggle, but the fun quickly wore off when eldest asked the optician why she bought a machine to blow air into people’s eyes.
“That’s all done sir! both your children need glasses!”
They both cheer, and race out into the main shop, bumping into an innocent bystander. I guess they do need glasses. I apologise, and reflect on the damage this will do to my budget.
They split like a display team to the male and female displays of frames. The adult displays. I shepherd them back to the children’s sections. Thankfully, the store has placed the more expensive ranges higher up. Their eyes are naturally drawn upwards.
He goes straight for a pair of specs with a Batman logo. They’re free, thanks to our amazing National Health Service. Great result (two pairs of glasses have cost me just over £300…). She goes for a lovely, purple rimmed pair; they match her coat and the fetching, cat eared headband that she has on.
The assistant places them on each of them in turn, then begins to take various measurements. She hands me her cat ears in order to get a proper fit. I put them on my head in order to keep my hands free to restrain her brother, who has clearly hit the limits of his concentration.
Business concludes without much drama. Both cubs hearts visibly shrink when the assistant tells us that the glasses will be ready for collection in a week. They wanted their reward now. I explained about the process of creating the lenses to their specific prescriptions, which seemed to bore them into submission. They both looked at me, looked at each other and giggled.
It wasn’t until we had walked the full length of the shopping centre to get back to the carpark that I realised I was still wearing the cat ear hair band.
Here in the UK, we have a turn of phrase for being busy; we call it spinning plates. It harks back to the circus act of erecting a number of head height poles into the ground, then balancing spinning plates on them.
The trick of it was to wobble the stick in a circular motion, causing said balanced plate to spin and remain in situ unaided. The skill arrived in getting all your plates spinning, by running to each stick in succession as they slowed, friction getting the better of them, and impart more energy to keep them going.
To be successful, the artist needed to be a blur of movement between each.
The act never lasted long.
Back to reality
My plates were projects, desires, goals and work. It was fun for a while, imagining the utopia of each whilst imparting that energy, but it was extremely tiring. Something had to give and BSD was the [temporary] casualty.
I even considered ending this alter ego but in the nick of time, I realised that it was a pity party move.
It hasn’t been plain sailing in the BSD household recently, and I’m squarely to blame.
Youngest cub has made the quantum leap to being potty trained. A real milestone in the transition from toddler to child. I’m ever so proud of him; he even goes to the bathroom standing up, after observing daddy in some uncomfortably candid moments.
I was conscious of this milestone as he entered the schooling system last September. His birthday is in late August and he had only just turned 4. Personally, I think that this is too young to enter full-time education, but such is life. I wanted him to be dry by the time he entered the system.
There is no shortage of reading out there with useful hints and tips. I knew what I wanted to achieve and set about doing it. I had the appropriate discussions with him and we spoke about what we would do to achieve it. We were both quite excited.
At first, things went quite well. He would excitedly run up to my room in the morning to proclaim his dry night. Great success!
He then had a couple of slip ups, but this was fine; the road to success is rarely a straight one. We could handle it. Bed changed, cub washed, no harm done; on with our day.
We then had a frequency shift; the dry days were beginning to lose out to the wet days. As we awoke in the morning, the disappointment in his voice was heartbreaking. More cuddles and reassurances that this was okay and that he would get it in time were administered.
I changed tactics slightly. Both cubs usually bedded down with a bottle of water to combat nighttime thirst. This stopped. We also watched the volumes of drink that we consumed in the pre-bedtime hour. This was restricted too.
It didn’t help.
We then tried a reward system. The star system that was already established was utilised. A star would be rewarded for more dry nights than wet nights.
This was wrong.
Things seemed to be getting worse.
Not only were we experiencing more wet nights but his skin also began to suffer. He’d clearly been peeing early in the night and then sleeping in it. The damage was visible.
He was also getting damaged inside with feelings of regret and shame of not doing as was expected of him.
I had a paradigm shift.
It followed some soul-searching on my part and answering a few questions.
Why were we doing this?
Who would benefit?
How was it making him feel?
How was it making me feel?
The answers, were quite damming.
We were doing this because I had decided that we should do it.
Whilst we would both benefit, primarily I would.
It was clearly making him feel bad; he was neither dry nor earning rewards.
This made me feel bad.
Time for a change.
We stopped. We had another chat and more importantly we re-bonded.
This took the form of a huge cuddle whilst watching his favourite film and eating popcorn. Eldest wasn’t left out; she got under one arm (and near the popcorn). I could, quite literally feel us all renergising in each other’s company.
There were some big learning points here and they were all for me.
I realised that I had let outside influences decide on what was best for my cub, rather than let him tell me.
Please understand, I don’t mean that I expected a 4-year-old to vocalise what he wanted; our children tell us things in so many other ways. We, as adults have to shut out the external noise and truly listen to what they are ‘saying’.
I was guilty of comparing him to his sister, to his classmates, to books e.t.c and in doing so, I ignored the only one I should’ve really listened to; him.
Attaching desired behaviour to a reward system is an age-old methodology but I applied it incorrectly. I’m still not sure I should have applied it at all.
He’s fine now. His skin shows no traces and he’s his usual, cheeky self. He’s back in the training pants for bed as the realisation that he is a deep sleeper will most likely mean that he takes a little longer to get dry.
I have every confidence that he will be; all in good time.