December 28, 2006
2007: awaiting the compound fracture
I feel like I should be looking back on the trials and triumphs of the past year, or making bold proclamations about what I will do in the new year, but frankly I’m too logy from eating home made toffee and drinking Starbucks cream liqueur to do either.
Instead, I will make a prediction: I predict that 2007 will find me in the emergency room with a kid who has broken something. Something ATTACHED to him, I mean, not just a coffee cup or my new iPod.
I predict that 2007 will be The Year of the Cast.
Henry is, of course, the most likely candidate for major breakage, because he is hyper and impulsive, of course, but also because he is a climber. He has always been a climber; before he could walk properly, he climbed. He would pull up on the sofa or a table and start working to get his fat little baby leg up on the surface. When he was two he learned to climb INTO his crib (not out, thank god, but IN, which seems to me to be WAAAY harder). He attacks playground equipment, swinging and clawing his way from one place to another. Also, he is fearless and has an unnaturally high pain tolerance.
All of which will clearly lead us to disaster.
Recently, he’s been climbing on our swingset, hanging upside down from the crossbar over the swings. It’s amazing to watch him, to see him strategizing where to put his hands and feet, to see him holding on so tightly and carefully. I constantly find myself saying, LOOK AT HIM! HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT! KIDS WITH N.L.D. HAVE TERRIBLE BALANCE AND POOR COORDINATION! BUT NOT HENRY! HA HA!
So yes, I am proud of his “tricks,” as he calls them. And also terrified because one misplaced hand and he will break his arm, or possibly his neck.
I am equally worried about Charlie, who is not as daring as Henry but is prone to try EVERYTHING that Henry does, and who also really likes to jump on his bed. His favorite swingset related game is to get a running start and fling himself at the actual swing, catching it under his arms, right across his rib cage; he lifts his feet off the ground and yells, “I’M FLYING!”
He will most likely break a rib, although there is also the possibility that he will overshoot the swing and plunge head first into the rock-hard ground underneath.
Perhaps 2007 will be the Year of the Neck Brace.
Recently, the New York Times ran a terrific article* about behavior therapy for kids with A.D.H.D.; in particular, the article focused on programs that teach parenting strategies. The article summarized the approach in this way: “Behavior modification for A.D.H.D. and for related problems, like habitually disruptive or defiant behavior, is based on a straightforward system of rewards and consequences. Parents reward every good or cooperative act they see: small things, like simply paying attention for a few moments, earn an ‘attaboy.’ Completing homework without complaint might earn time on a Gameboy. Parents remove privileges, like television and playtime, or impose a ‘time out,’ in response to defiance and other misbehavior. . . . And they learn to ignore annoying but harmless attempts to win attention, like making weird noises, tapping or acting like a baby.”
This is the program we follow at home, and honestly, the hard part is that last bit, about ignoring the “annoying but harmless” behavior. I have made a conscious choice to use outdoor play as a way to channel the craziness, the yelling and running and jumping, all of which are expected and acceptable behavior for four and six-year-old boys just NOT in a house full of furniture. Instead of yelling or sending everyone to timeout or pouring myself a stiff drink at 3:00 pm, I send the boys outside, where they CAN run and jump and yell, and for the most part this is a good thing. But in 2007, I am telling you now, it will land me in the emergency room.
Mark my words.
*This article was the last in a series; you should get yourself some coffee and read all three. Really.
