 Children
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May. 13th, 2012 @ 07:47 am 
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I just came across this blog post talking about why it's unfair to call kids "shy" as easily as people do.
Mostly I agree with it, with a small caveat: I don't quite agree with this paragraph:
That said, in most cases we should have a choice about being touched. Instead of siding with the “stranger” and urging little Billy to “say, ‘Hi’” or “hug Uncle Louis,” it would probably be more productive to let their relationship develop at its own pace. Uncle Louis is a grown-up, he’s just going to have to accept it when you instead say something like, “Billy will say ‘Hi’ later,” or “He’s not ready for hugs.”
See, once a child is old enough for independent movement, whether little Billy hugs Uncle Louis is totally his call. However, urging little Billy to say hello is teaching little Billy the rules of social society, and humans are social creatures. Say hi, kid, it won't kill you.
The author does ascribe a little more damage-infliction to the "shy" label than I would, but I've never suffered from being labelled shy, so I'm not going to say that it's unwarranted. I was a friendly child, and I didn't really have a problem talking to adults. (I don't remember being encouraged to physical affection with adults I didn't know, but then, my family are first-generation immigrants, so I didn't have a lot of contact with unfamiliar family members.)
The toddler I babysit is old enough to answer when you ask him if he wants a cuddle, so he gets to decide that now. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn't. His decision. But he doesn't get to decide everything, because he's a toddler, and the biggest thing he has to be doing right now is learning.
I love the little rugrat no end. I realised how much I truly, truly love him on Friday. I'd been giving him and his little brother a bath. I'd washed the toddler, let him play with his bath toys at the other end while I washed the baby, and then had dried off the baby and was letting the toddler play some more.
I was sitting next to the tub, and had turned my eyes away from the toddler to check on his brother. I glanced back, and realised that suddenly the water was full of poo. He'd pooped in the bath. (For the first time in his life. Because I swear, these kids have started coming up with new and exciting poo-related adventures for my babysitting visits.)
I freaked out, very slightly, which manifested as yanking him out of the water, and telling him very, very firmly do not move, not one step, stay right there as I dashed out and fetched wet-wipes with which to wipe down his legs, and a nappy to put him in. Nap-time was nominally next.
I came back and he was frozen in place, looking mystified about what Sami was doing, since normally when I bathe him I towel him off then dress him with no drama such as this.
Anyway, after a fair whack of drama, I had his brother ensconced in safety while I put the toddler to bed, and took the toddler to his room to get him tucked away. I was kind of exhausted, and grossed out, and did not feel like smiling.
But here I had the toddler, gazing at me trustingly, despite the fact that for a good ten minutes I'd been being stern and bossy. "Stay right there. Don't go in there. Come here. Hold still." And he was still just going with it as I went to, "It's nap time."
I felt like I needed crowbars to force the smile onto my face, but I got it there. "I love you very much," I told him sincerely, and gave him overdramatic mwah! mwah! kisses on both cheeks till he was smiling and giggling. "Okay, time for bed."
I put him in his cot, smiling with less effort, and gave him his sleep-companion-toy. "Sleep well, darling. I love you."
I closed the door.
I leaned on it for a second, eyes closed, and let the sentence finish itself only in my head: I love you, but I'm sick of you, so I'm really, really glad it's time for you to sleep for a while.
You can love someone and still really need a break from them so very, very hard.
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| From: | ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png) willow |
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May 13th, 2012 02:03 pm (UTC) |
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1. Primary care-givers often love those they look after and desperately need breaks at the same time.
2. There's been a lot of labeling of children, especially PoC children as autistic in the US, because they won't hug strangers, or interact with strangers; no one stopping to consider safety issues or the children's own personal boundaries.
3. There's a way to introduce and say hi to someone, and go 'Hi, Uncle so and so, this is Baby X. Baby X, this is uncle so and so.' And have the adult in the situation say 'hi Baby X', without forcing the child to say hi back. A pattern gets established. And pretty soon if the child wants to say hi, they'll say hi. Or wave, or something, while staying safe where they feel safe - thus, socialization without a whole lot of expectations and pressures to 'be on'. I know this, cause I've done it, with two children. It's not that hard.
[1st note, my example is specifically referencing a family member. Because in my family, we did not introduce the children to strangers. We said; this is the baby. No, s/he only gets held by family. And that was it]
[2nd note, wrote this pre reading the article. Not sure if I'm up to it either, but these things struck me very hard about your post]
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| From: | sami |
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May 13th, 2012 11:31 pm (UTC) |
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I'm starting to realise how weird this is for me to think about, with my lack of extended family.
Because, yeah, your point is totally valid about the baby saying hi, because in my head, it was back to small children being told to interact with familiar adults, because unfamiliar adults being granted talk-to-baby rights just... isn't a thing. Like, the kids I know get handed to non-family members, such as, well, me, but that's non-family members who've known the parents for years and years. Yesterday I met a baby who's less than two months old. I got to cuddle her, but then, I've known her mother for well over a decade.
The toddler I babysit comes to the door when I arrive, and gets told, "Say, "Hi Sami!"" But he's known me all his life, sees me regularly, and he's comfortable around me. He's also told that in the 'this is a suggestion/request not a command' tone, and I know he can tell the difference. (If he doesn't want to do the thing, the "request" tone gets a cheerful "no!", while the command tone gets silent, I'm-watching-you-to-see-what-you-do disobedience, because at his age, he is, now and then, allll about pushing boundaries.)
So to me, it seems reasonable to be prodding him gently on socialisation, because he knows me, and he's comfortable enough talking to me at other times - if I ask him a question he can answer, I get a reply, and if he wants something from me, he asks for it in words (as reliably as he does with anyone, at least; sometimes he still does wordless-whiny-noise requests, but he does that with his parents, too).
I know his parents are pretty clear on the boundaries of who is and isn't allowed to interact with the boys, so I don't imagine he's often even introduced to strangers. And strangers definitely wouldn't have been allowed to hold them, not least because their mother is sanely, but extremely, protective, and it is a measure of not-insignificant trust in a person for her to let them hold her precious, precious baby. Strangers won't have earned that.
It's all kind of weird in my head, because I don't have any kind of mechanics or pattern there for small children interacting with extended, unfamiliar family, at all.
Edited (hadn't finished!) 2012-05-13 11:39 pm (UTC)
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