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.
