How often we document our first, and yesterday I spotted one from a mile away. Finley had been playing with a small tac hammer using it to dig and to smack in some nails that I'd set into a log for him when he came over to me with a rainbow package of sidewalk chalk in one hand and his tool in the other.
"Papa, I smash this chalk like dis," he exclaimed.
Smashing the chalk with his hammer he sent broken pieces shooting every which direction.
In a hurry, I responded, "Nope, Finley. You're not supposed to smash chalk with hammers. At least not on our patio like that."
"Otay, I go in the garage then."
Immediately I sensed this shift in his eyes. He planned to go into the garage, shut the door and thus shut me out, and pound his hammer and heart out on the sidewalk chalk behind closed doors.
"Okay, Finley. You can go in the garage, but no smashing chalk. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand," as he steps over the threshold of the door and closes it behind him.
(1 minute later)
I approach the door sorting out the words I know I'll need when I catch him smashing chalk. Explaining what "truth" and "lie" is to a 3-year-old seemed for a brief moment accomplishable.
"Oh, no...Finley!" as I open the door.
"I no doing anything," he defends with the hammer in one hand and a pile of broken chalk pieces between his bare feet.
"You said that you would NOT smash chalk in the garage, and (ghasp for dramatic effect) look at what you're doing. Little sir, that is a lie."
Three minutes of "penalty" time and 5 minutes of me trying to explain "truth" and "lie," and I"m still not sure I understand them myself. There's something special about explaining these mature notions to a 3-year-old that break them down in such a way that I get lost in their explanations.
Just a few weeks ago he asked me what time is, and my answer was, "Well buddy, I don't really know."
"Papa, I smash this chalk like dis," he exclaimed.
Smashing the chalk with his hammer he sent broken pieces shooting every which direction.
In a hurry, I responded, "Nope, Finley. You're not supposed to smash chalk with hammers. At least not on our patio like that."
"Otay, I go in the garage then."
Immediately I sensed this shift in his eyes. He planned to go into the garage, shut the door and thus shut me out, and pound his hammer and heart out on the sidewalk chalk behind closed doors.
"Okay, Finley. You can go in the garage, but no smashing chalk. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand," as he steps over the threshold of the door and closes it behind him.
(1 minute later)
I approach the door sorting out the words I know I'll need when I catch him smashing chalk. Explaining what "truth" and "lie" is to a 3-year-old seemed for a brief moment accomplishable.
"Oh, no...Finley!" as I open the door.
"I no doing anything," he defends with the hammer in one hand and a pile of broken chalk pieces between his bare feet.
"You said that you would NOT smash chalk in the garage, and (ghasp for dramatic effect) look at what you're doing. Little sir, that is a lie."
Three minutes of "penalty" time and 5 minutes of me trying to explain "truth" and "lie," and I"m still not sure I understand them myself. There's something special about explaining these mature notions to a 3-year-old that break them down in such a way that I get lost in their explanations.
Just a few weeks ago he asked me what time is, and my answer was, "Well buddy, I don't really know."