Free To Be Three

I have heard that when you teach a certain group, you begin to identify with them. And maybe, I think, you begin to behave like them. I have spent almost four weeks with two dozen pre-schoolers aged 3-5. In that time, twice I have fallen narcoleptic before dessert. I have dipped into my pipe-cleaner and bead jewelry collection. And I had a phone meltdown with a triathlon registrar saying, "You are SO not helping me right now!" Also, I have thoroughly enjoyed my sidewalk-chalk tatoos and wood-chip exfoliation treatments.

But the whole thing helps my parenting. I understand why preschoolers need to eat at least every hour. They give over to their play. My field hockey coach used to say, "Get in there, go after it, you gotta want it!" No one has to tell Clara that. She is in the game. And she is owning the game. Even when that game is "house" or "doctor" or "lemonade factory." Playing in the sandbox isn't playing. Calliope excavated the sandbox for glass beads, with the express intention of exhausting it of its treasures. Knees down, shovel pitched. It is no wonder she is famished and losing it by 9:30am!

I like it, I like knowing their rhythm, it helps me see how benign things are. Many of them are testing things out, trying things on. For example a new sassy, almost competitive tone-- affected to a discussion about having toileted before school. Or grabbing your best friend's favorite color for him but then arguing with him about taking the cap off. Or telling someone "You're not my friend" as you ride beside them in the double stroller going to their house. The incongruities are striking and sweet. How fickle and yet how safe they must feel to test these things out. I imagine it is the development of boundaries and even self-control.

Speaking of self-control, Calliope caused her first bloody nose. Being a counselor, I hadn't thought of it this way. She collided with a three-year old boy. His nose. Her cheek. It bled for a good 5 minutes. Shirt bloodied, I called his mother who comforted him. Callio, on the other hand had a red cheek, but in the end did not bruise. When I called Geoff, he said, "Her first bloodied nose!" Benicio said, "Pacquio Baby!" And at once, I thought about how last year at the same camp, she collided with someone at the sandbox, and had a near-eye injury and a bad scrape. And how this year, our baby is formidable enough to collide and NOT be harmed. Hallelujah, she is not delicate!! Even though small, even though roughed up, my kids can emerge unharmed. It has all been worth it to learn this lesson.