Gabriel jumped off his bike, walked up to a sturdy oak tree in a neighbor's front yard, and banged his head against it. Stepped back, considered, then banged it again. After the third collision, I asked, How does that feel?
Good, he replied definitively, before the fourth and final slam into the tree. At least he was wearing a helmet. Mike went through a presumably helmet-less head-banging stage as a toddler. I'm sure I dabbled, going by my mother's reports. Being a big kid isn't easy.
And he is a big boy, isn't he? Just one month shy of his third birthday, Gabriel is taller, leaner, diaper-less, comfortable on a bike, smitten with superheroes, and more gaga than ever for dump trucks and all their vehicular relations, from forklifts to log loaders. Which is a good thing, because we will need one of those powerful front end loaders to clean up the emotional wreckage Gabriel is leaving in his wake these days.
What happened to our user-of-words, our sensitive child, our resident master of the I statement? We've seen minor tantrums, but in the past, after a few minutes I would catch his eyes and he'd run into my lap and tell me he feels sad or angry and the episode would end with some peaceful snuggling. I knew this golden time couldn't last. But I didn't know just how disorienting and upsetting it would be for the rest of us to witness Gabriel in the grip of toddler irrationality and high emotions lodged just beneath the surface, always ready to erupt. Every request made of him is a potential tantrum-trigger. Oh, time to put on shoes you say? There's my cue!
Yesterday, he hit Frances. I gave him a time out. He sobbed and screamed and shouted NO! over and over in his room - an unprecedented display that unsettled his mother and sister. After two minutes I walked in. He took one look at me and said: You leave! I want to be alone!! So I left, and he kept on screaming NO. A few minutes later, he quieted down, and I walked back in and sat down in the rocking chair. He looked at me, nose and ears streaming, his face red and wet, his expression utterly bewildered and exhausted. My heart broke for him.
I'm sorry you are feeling so sad, I said. He clenched his fists, became redder still, and yelled: DON'T SAY THOSE WORDS TO ME!
We rarely feel angered or frustrated by this piteous behavior. He seems to be in the grip of a mind-scrambling, emotion-disordering outside force. A relentless, merciless demon is after our angel Gabriel, and it sucks. The tantrums began soon after potty-training; there must be some connection there. Along with life in underwear came a new body awareness for Gabriel, who is alternately delighted, confused, and concerned by his penis.
Today I am emerging from two days of awful sickness, during which I was pretty unavailable to the kids. This morning I was finally able to do things with them again, and after a round of irrational tantrums, Gabriel and I were able to go to the library and read piles of stories, do a little bike riding, then return home with some fresh inspiration: making a spring tree.
We had been so reluctant to dismantle the valentine tree that I saved the stick. So I brought it out, and showed Gabriel how to make tissue paper flowers. He wanted there to be butterflies, so I cut them from paper and used pipe cleaners for antennae. I was pulling out paints to decorate the wings when Gabriel began flying one of them around the room, fluttering his wings against my cheek and landing him gently on my hand.
Oh! Good gracious. I said I didn't have a penis, because I was a girl butterfly. Gabriel said, Well what's your softy called then?
My softy? I won't transcribe the entire conversation, but suffice it to say, it was kind of mind-blowing. We've explained body parts and the differences between girls and boys in the past, but only now does he seem ready to take it all in. Here are our butterflies, grappling with the strange big world together. The tree will be a nice reminder for me: be quiet and gentle with him. I know he will fly through this storm somehow, despite the strong March winds buffeting him this way and that.
1 comment:
Holy moly!!!
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