Overheard

1. A friend gives Connor a birthday gift at the bus stop on Monday afternoon. He was sick on Sunday and couldn't make it to the party. Two big, strapping boys. Pushing and shoving each other a moment earlier. As he hands it to Connor, what do I hear:

"Oh, my, Danny! You shouldn't have!!

What? Suddenly he's turned into Scarlett O'Hara? I expected him to whip out a fan and swoon.


2. Working on the new obsession: a Lego set. We have firm rules around these. Actually, one firm rule: FIGURE IT OUT YOURSELF. You know, Connor gets so frustrated so easily. This new fixation is a good way to help him through that. No crying, no whining---if you do, it gets taken away. If you get stuck, go back three moves and rebuild and try to figure out what you did wrong. Only then can you come ask for help. So, he's adapting to that. And it's crystal clear that he'll get no help at all if he acts like a baby. I hear him in the family room. There are sighs. There are low moans--even a few grunts. But no baby sounds. These are grown up frustration vents and I'm fine with that. A few moments later, he appears. Half of a Star Wars imperial walker leg in his hand. What does he say?

"Mother! I think I have detected a flaw."

Wow. Now that's what I call a calm presentation of an issue.