Kitchen or the Egg

A friend of mine shared recently, “I know, as a grown up, that we can’t always get what we want, (thanks Mick), but for a 5yo, this is a heartbreaking reality.”

As grown-ups, we know that you can’t always get what you want. But how can we best support our children when this becomes a new awareness for them?

I am finding myself focusing more on personally connecting with the need/desire being expressed by my child instead of maintaining more neutral, matter-of-fact objective territory.

When my five-year old and I run into scenarios like that, I’m trying to *be* with where he is. It’s still feels new for me and takes a lot of effort for me to remember to approach things this way, but I’m trying to help the shift from squelching my child’s wants and needs to supporting them.

When he says he wants to buy something he sees and it’s an impossible purchase at that moment, it still matters to me that he wants it. I mention how excited he sounds, then kind of “dream” together — if it were a baseball mitt, maybe I’d throw in how that baseball mitt could
catch home runs, how soft it is, how the leather smells, how cool it is to stick our fingers in the finger slots, and how it would be cool to buy 10, or 20, or 100, or a million of them and how cool it would look to see a million people catching a million baseballs! And let’s write down “baseball mitt” on our Vision Board at home (writing it down on paper or in my check register or anywhere, in the meantime). “And check out how much bigger this mitt is over here!” kinds of comparisons. And make our way through the store, including my own fantasizing around a golf club or exploring/trying out/discussing whatever interesting things we pass along the way.

I’m finding that writing my son’s “wishlist” on our Vision Board, along with my own dreams and those of the rest of the family, helps give it “legs” and he appreciates just feeling *heard.* Then when we run across the thing again, it’s more of a reference, “You wrote that one down, right Mom?” and it helps us to focus on the fun and cool aspect of the thing instead of just the need-to-have-it-and-need-to-have-it-now energy.

I’m also talking more openly and casually about my purchases when we’re together, mostly groceries: the things I did buy and why (“I can’t decide between this one and this one…let’s look at the price….”,) the purchases I made with coupons, the things I bought on sale, and the ones that “got away” that I’m disappointed to skip this time but really excited about the stuff we *are* making with the things we *do* have. I’m not trying to do this in a condescending
this-was-all-pre-determined way. I’m just trying to vocalize more of what’s going on in my head *while* I’m doing it. Anyway, he seems to like this stuff.

My son loves playing Club Penguin (clubpenguin.com) and it has been an amazing experience in so many ways. It’s a community of penguins, and you personalize your penguin character and the igloo. You need penguin coins to do this, which you “earn” playing video games embedded within Club Penguin. You always know how many you have, and you can “shop” from the catalog or do various things with your money.

My son has played loads of games to “save up” for various igloo accessories, completely conscious of having enough yet, or not, in a way that’s really clear to him. It’s so much less abstract for him now, having enough money for something, or not. Or having enough for
something cheaper instead, or saving coins to get the more expensive thing.

I’m convinced these things are part of what led him to sell these scarves he’s been making and selling lately. All *totally* his idea and all his own work, he could not BE more proud to have created a way to earn, and spend, his very own money.

To me, the key (for us) is to be honest with my own feelings and ideas, feeling free to express them from my heart as opposed to telling my son something that *sounds* disappointed but fake, in order to make a lesson out of it. Something I’ve done and I’m happily growing out of.

Sometimes the *bigness* of my son’s feelings can feel threatening to me, something I want to make stop because I feel uncomfortable. I’m getting better about recognizing that, too, looking beyond the thing that triggers something in *me* and being able to celebrate his openness and willingness to share that emotion with me.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 30th, 2009 at 1:05 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.