Michael gets in trouble quite a bit for having grabby hands. He’s very tactile, having to touch things and manipulate them in order to fully appreciate their essence. I figured he’d get past this phase once he reached three or so and could thoroughly comprehend what “NO” means.
He’s been known to shut down the dishwasher while it’s in mid-cycle and the oven while it’s busy broiling dinner. He can’t resist plucking the strings on my guitar when he knows I’m out of the room and can’t scold him for it. For a long time I had the buttons on the TV covered up so he couldn’t turn it off or change the channel. He touches his sisters’ belongings if they’re left on the table. He touches the computer screen. I’ve told him countless times to look with his eyes and not with his hands, but this admonishment just bounces off and slides ineffectually to the floor. He just cannot seem to help himself.
This goes on day in, day out. For the most part, we’ve learned to live with it, while still not entirely giving in to it. As a parent, you can only fight so many battles before you drop from exhaustion.
One day last week, I came home pre-cranky-fied so I was in no mood to spend my evening telling him not to touch things. But because his mom and I were both thoroughly enmeshed in making dinner and doing cleanup chores, Michael felt it necessary to amp up his sticky fingers activity.
He picked up an artificial flower that his sister had brought home, simply because it was out and available.
He touched the scissors in the kitchen. He grabbed the shopping list I’d just been working on and started to write on it with a pen. I shooed him out of the kitchen.
He sauntered over to the table and started rifling through the mail there. His mom told him not to touch it. “But I want to mail something!”
Heaving a sigh, his mom resigned herself to attending to his whims and keeping him out of trouble. She decided to let him play in the hot tub since it’s a can’t-miss type diversion. While in the tub, he kept playing with the thermometer. When that got boring, he messed around with the lights, the jets, and the temperature control knob. He finally got taken out of the tub for drinking the water one too many times.
Once he was back inside and while his mom was getting the hot tub back to rights, I tried to engage him on the computer, finding a kid’s craft site that he likes. He repeatedly reached around me to touch the keys, wildly throwing off my attempts at typing in the address.
I sent him off to play with his toys (to which an entire corner of our family room is dedicated) but instead he decided that the timer on the table was more interesting. I’d set this timer ten minutes earlier to remind me when it was time to drive out to pick up his sister.
“Michael! I needed that timer set the way it was! You have no business touching that!”
He looked squarely at me, and without taking his eyes off mine, he turned the timer’s knob and cleared it. RIIIIING!
“ERRRRGH!” I growled loudly, frustrated beyond my limits by his incessant need to digitally scrutinize. I pleaded with God: “Why? Why is he continually testing my patience? What’s the lesson here? My patience is not improving! I’m not learning anything!”
My wife offered her apology for his behavior.
“It’s not your fault. It’s not you at all. It’s me.” I pointed over at the little towel-wearing imp exploring the timer. “That’s my genes at work there.”
I pictured myself at his age, and I remember how much I liked to touch and grab and manually explore. One instance stands out. When I was four or so, my mother and I were at a department store with an escalator. Along the bottom of one of the rails was a very neat-looking red button labeled “STOP”, so when I got close enough to it, I reached down and pressed it. I was immediately rewarded by a resounding THUNK! and a very loud BUZZZZZ! Instantly, everyone on the escalator lurched forward. I know I got a talking-to by my mom as well as a couple of store managers. I’m pretty sure my mom stopped by a liquor store on the way home, and I probably got locked in my room. I spent a lot of time in my room.
My wife swept Michael into the laundry room so he could help her do the wash, and so I could get a little time to cool down.
I took a couple of cleansing breaths and searched for meaning. I know a test when I see it, and this had to be one. But why am I not getting it? It’s like I’m in class, I have a book open in front of me and can see that the teacher is talking… but I can’t read the book and I can’t hear what the teacher is saying.
I was roused from my self-contained irritation by my wife’s shouts from the laundry room:
“Michael, No! DON’T TOUCH THE BUTTONS!”
I had had enough. I got up, stomped into the laundry room and scooped Michael up like a football.
“All right, that’s it,” I told him through clenched teeth. “You know what? After we go and pick up your sister, I’m going to just sit on the couch and hold you. Got that? I’m just going to hold you until bedtime!”
I pulled up a chair, plopped him down in my lap, and sat there simmering.
When five minutes had elapsed, I silently carried him out to the car, strapped him in, and drove us all off to pick up sister.
When we got back, I unbuckled him, carried him inside and set him on the floor.
“Daddy? I need to go get blue blankie,” he said, and ran upstairs. He hurried down and ran up to me with a huge, eager smile.
“Okay, daddy! I’m ready for you to hold me now!”
And instantly, my irritation was dissolved away.
What I meant as discipline was, to him, an opportunity for closeness.
So maybe I did learn something after all.
As I was reading that, I couldn't help but think that this is the kind of thing I have to look forward to. I remember quite well my younger brothers looking directly at me (or my mom) and doing something we told them not to with a smile on their faces. Maybe that's just boys.
But, the end of your post also reminds me that kids have that special way of revving you up and melting your heart all in the same breath. I think anyway.
Great post! It is awesome that he was so happy to sit with you.
When I was a kid I touched everything. My Dad would always say don't touch it if it doesn't belong to you. I heard that over and over again when we were in Alco. That was our only store. There was no Wal-Mart. You realize that type of curiosity with things can lead to engineering.
I loved your post. At the end I got very emotional. Isnt' it just like kids to take what parents thing of a lesson and turn it around on them? And in such a sweet way? I wanted to cuddle Michael myself.
When Mom and Dad said don't touch, I didn't. I don't think I was very curious. Either that, or I was a very boring and obedient child. Maybe that's why the math and engineering side of my brain never developed. . .
That is so sweet. I can't count how many times I have been at my wits end with kids behavior only to figure out to late that the the problem was me coming at things from the wrong direction. that a little bit of down time to just sit and cuddle was just the right prescription. Unfortunately, my short term memory must really stink because I never remember this remedy until after my anger and frustration.
@Baby News — boys are very much different from girls, starting at a very early age. I've found this to be true.
@Otter — I do fear that he might go into engineering. I'll try to talk him out of it.
@surprised — I couldn't help but get emotional myself. He can be such a royal pain in the neck, and then turn around and be just sweet as cherry pie the next minute.
@Barb — That is definitely my lesson: get out of my own way, and start parenting the boy with my ego stashed somewhere else.
My oh my but that was special. It's just as plain as the nose on your face … except when it isn't.
Poor little Michael has had grabby hands all his little life. He went from grabbing hair to things and he just cant stop touching everything that interests him.
@Anonymous — and it very often isn't.
@Wife — I hope we can shape his grabby-handedness into a force for good and not evil.
I saw that one coming; stimulation is stimulation, right? My nephew was like that; it drove my husband insane whenever he came to our house, because our light switches are different than my sister's, and he needed to go to every single one in the house, it seemed, and flip them on and off.
Tom: I only recently subscribed, so I have a folder full of unread posts in my Outlook folders. I've just been clicking on titles that seem interesting. Today it was this one. Made me laugh, then made me teary.