Sunday, September 21, 2008

Shock the monkeys

J got a small barrel of monkeys toy. It came with a fast food kid's meal that he ate the other day.

J: Monkeys? Can I hammer you with this hammer?

J loves tools. All tools. Especially his hammer and his screwdriver. He keeps his plastic tools in a large zip-top bag that he refers to as his "tool box". Tonight, he filled the tool box with a variety of items. But on closer examination, we discovered several things that did not belong in the bag. Among these were photographs. This kind of thing is pretty typical really, as J has already proven himself to be something of a packrat. (I don't know where he gets it). But when told not to put photographs in his tool box, he became frustrated.

J: I quit!!

A typical 3-year old boy, J does get frustrated quite easily these days. But he is learning to express his emotions constructively. A couple of nights ago, he was hammering walls, floors, the piano ... he was asked not to hammer these things, as he may do damage. He responded by plastering on his best "pissed-off" expression and stating in no uncertain terms:

J: I'm angry!

This kind of statement from J occurs fairly frequently these days. And while I wish that J didn't get angry, I know this is not realistic. I am, however, glad that he can express his anger so well, with words and not with tantrums. Don't get me wrong; J has great tantrums too. Amazing tantrums, actually. He can kick and scream with the best of them. But it is nice to see that he is able to express himself verbally. Though sometimes not with what could be called "success".

J: I don't need to put my socks on, because I'm not thirsty.

I am glad that he asked if he could hammer the toy monkeys from his barrel. That is progress; he used to just do things and then think about asking for permission after the fact. But it would probably be good if he would ask permission from one of his parents, rather than from the affected inanimate object.

And on the topic of personifying inanimate objects:

J: My socks have to go into my toolbox, because they were crying to go in there.

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