I had the pleasure of spending a bit of time with the kids at Rohan's Preschool on his first day, as the dressing parent. At any given day there are two parents helping out in the classroom. There is the duty parent that stays for the duration of the class time, helping the teacher with bathroom breaks and providing nutritional snacks for the kiddies.
The dressing parent comes in just before the kids get ready to go outside for playtime. The role of the dressing parent is just that, to dress the kids, or help dress them, in outdoor clothing appropriate for the weather. So I was the dressing parent that beautiful sunny first day of school. I had to show up about 40 minutes early to help the kids get dressed. Good god these kids are cute!
I was a bit early (no matter how hard I try not to be, I am ALWAYS early) and I was able to watch the teacher in action. She was amazing. The kids listened to her every time with no complaints at all. She talked calmly, softly, slowly, enunciating every word she spoke. Easy, small, short words and sentences. She was so gentle with them, with just a tinge of baby talk, but not quite.
Watching and listening to her speak made me realize that I talk to Rohan (and Avery) as if they were my peers and not 30 years my junior. I talk to them as if assuming that they do, and should, understand what I am asking them or talking to them about. How did this happen?
I am thinking that it all stemmed from my vow to myself not to talk goopey, ridiculous baby talk with Rohan. I did a bit, you know, excitable, wind them up talk. But not the goo goo gaa gaa crap that oozes out of some people. I did not want to be that mom. And yet, there he is, listening intently to the teacher who talks to him like he is a kid.
There might be something there. I am always feeling compelled to smarten up my talk, but now, for once, I may very well need to dumb it down a bit so that my children can finally understand what the hell I am saying. I may even get them to listen to me..........
Another theory I tested today was the singing theory. Instead of asking Ro-Dog to do something, I sang out the task in melodic, off key, musical style, song. It actually worked quite often. Strange. And so continues My Life the musical.