No Monkeys

            Today is the second consecutive snow day for Bartlesville Public Schools, a real treat for most kids but not so for 4 1/2-year-old Benjamin.  He thrives on routine, and going to pre-school is an important part of his routine.  Thus, it was an easy decision this morning to invite him over for a play date.

            Shawn, home because he is a teacher himself, delivered my grandson to my door at ten with the one item I had requested:  a ball.  Before I could even think to get Benjamin’s coat off, he was on his way to the toy room.  I was ready, having set up his toys minus the monkey because I want to expand his horizons beyond our monkey game.  I felt somewhat like an anthropologist, ready to study the communication habits of my grandson.  My goal was twofold:  follow his lead and encourage communication.

            Benjamin loves to walk from room to room in my house, especially carrying a toy.  I followed him around and participated in his play, trying to enter into his world.  We grooved to the music of his mailbox, celebrated playing with the See and Say on the guest bed, took turns with the toy phone, and played with the ball a little bit.  Each of these activities took place in, perhaps, thirty-second increments.

            I knew he would find his way into my kitchen.  There is something about sitting on the floor and looking up at the exhaust fan above the stove that delights him.  There he will sit, clap his hands, and make his “ah ah ah” sound to signal me for a snack.  I peeled and cut up a small apple into bite-sized pieces.  Throughout his hour here, he ate most of the apple.  Each time he went into the kitchen to the counter where the apple was, he had to ask for it.  Sometimes he did the signs on his own; sometimes I prompted him.  It was interesting to see his variations on “please eat.”  Sometimes the “eat” came first, other times the “please.”  Sometimes he signed just one of the words himself; sometimes he took my hand to his mouth for “eat” and rubbed my tummy for “please.”  Always I said the words. 

            Just for fun, I tried offering the apple pieces in different ways.  At first I handed him a piece.  Then I had him take the single piece out of a little plastic container.  Finally, I put five or six pieces in the container and was pleased to see that he would take out just one or two instead of grabbing all of them at once.

            Near the end of our hour together, I could see that he was starting to get tired.  At one point, he walked into the living room, sat down on the floor, put his hand in his mouth, and started to cry.  I sat down in front of him and asked, “Benjamin, what’s wrong?”  He stopped fussing and made his sign for “sing,” so I did. 

            By this time, he had asked to leave several times by going to the front door and trying the door handle, which reminds me of another door story:  I told Benjamin I was going to use the bathroom and let him follow me in.  There he pulled back the shower curtain to see the bathtub, looked at the sink, and checked out the bathmat.  When I was done, he helped me close the toilet seat lid, watched me flush the toilet, and watched me wash my hands.  What I noticed is that he was familiar with and interested in the sequence.

            I count this morning as a grand success.  Benjamin had fun, and I learned a little more about entering his world and communicating with him.  He is a good teacher.  And, to be honest, I did not miss the monkey.