Teaching Compassion to a toddler

Teaching Compassion to a Toddler...

I think it's time I introduce one of my children to you. Meet Declan. 

Declan was born on January 18, 2012 which makes him just over 18 months old now. He's always met his milestones at or before the time other children his age met them. If it sounds like I'm bragging, I'm not....okay I am a little bit, but he's genuinely a really smart, motivated kid. He's not incredibly verbal at this stage so I started teaching him some ASL in order to make communicating his needs a little easier. He picks up new signs really easily, given the right circumstances. For instance, he's motivated by food...much like every other member of this family. If I so chose, I could teach him the sign for French Fry in about 20 minutes. That says more about his love for french fries than language in general I suppose but I'm not complaining. 

I've had several people tell me I should write a book because Declan gives me such great stories to tell. He is absolutely amazing to watch. One of my favorite things to do is people watch. I like to imagine stories and try to puzzle out what people are saying or doing. It's a hobby...sue me. Watching my own kid discover things and see how funny and smart he is turning out to be is amazing. 

Like many children his age, he thinks flatulence is top notch in the humor world. Tell the kid a knock knock joke and it falls on deaf ears. Make fart noises with your armpit and he's writhing on the floor laughing. I think there's some evidence to support a sex-linked trait here. His dad is 28 and still thinks flatulence is hysterical....to the point of locking the car windows and quietly waiting for "it" to hit you. 

Learning and Siblings

I gave birth to our second child 4 months ago. She'll get her own post so no need to clutter up Declan's moment here and now. I had a lot of people express their "concern" over having two so close together. I had comments ranging from the joyous to downright rude. I had people tell me they felt sorry for Declan because he wouldn't get all my love or that he'd dislike his sister or that he wouldn't understand and on and on. I set myself up for a painful situation. Having an advanced child turned out to be an incredible blessing. 

They've been thick as thieves since the moment she was born. Declan started learning to walk at 10 months, making him a pro by the time she was born when he was 15 months old. He could sign more, hungry, eat, drink, milk, mama, dada, thank you, love, bed, bath, up, and all done by the time she was born. That's not to say there weren't some bumps. He did try to sit on her a couple of times. He tends to think she is sturdier than she really is. He's rough and tumble. Constantly moving around. A bundle of energy and full of love. He loves to go around and give kisses to every member of the family, including his sister at bedtime. He knows she goes with him at bath time and will put her pacifier in her mouth if she is crying. He will come get you and point at her if she's upset and tells you to bring her with you when you get him into the bath. Much like at walking, eating and signing...Declan is kicking the pants off of being a sibling

Raising a little man

I won't lie and say that Declan is good at everything. He's not some child prodigy, learning piano, harpsichord and the Viennese Waltz at 12 months. He throws tantrums, disobeys, cries, sobs, pulls hair, hits, tortures the dog, pulls the cat's tail, pokes the baby in the eye, takes off his diaper and runs around naked (not his fault. We're a big fan of the whole "sans clothing" movement here. Blame it on his father. He wants a naked room one day.) 

One of the things I struggle with as a parent is controlling my own temper. The other day I put him to bed at 7:30. We've quit the bottle cold turkey so bed time the past week or so has been a nightmare. What once was a quiet, subdued affair has become a "sippy cup of milk, kiss goodnight, close the door go downstairs...scream for 20 minutes...go upstairs rub his back, read Green Eggs and Ham 4 times, kiss him, close the door, go downstairs....scream for 20 minutes...send Dad upstairs, give him 8 stuffies to sleep with, talk to him for 10 minutes, kiss him goodnight come downstairs" affair. By the time we get him down we are so exhausted we can't even think about doing anything else. So this kid at 8:30 giggles outside my bedroom door and I put him back to bed. 15 minutes later I walk to get a glass of water and end up shrieking like a banshee because my golden haired bundle of joy is standing stock still in the doorway like Children of the Corn, silently clutching a book. I was torn between hilarity and rage because I had let myself become comfortable enough to go to sleep. Oh silly silly me...

Teaching him compassion

The one thing I've always said I wanted to instill in my children is compassion for other people. One thing I cannot stand is when I hear people verbally destroy another person for bad decisions, addictions, life problems, crappy boy troubles...you get the idea. I hate that this society tells us we have the right to put down one another like we think we don't have faults. I believe firmly that Christ commands us love one another. The man talked with the dregs of society in his time. I don't think it's such a stretch to try to empathize with someone who is hurting. I've known people who committed suicide. I've known people struggling with addiction. I've known people who've been raped, beaten, abused, victimized, who self harmed, who wished to die, who lashed out, who hurt...plain and simple. I'm not trying to be preachy. I'm pretty flawed myself. If I gave you my list of what I hate about myself we'd be here all night. I do try to be a better person today than I was yesterday because I care about the things I teach my kids. 

I guess I care so much because I have been in a situation where I thought briefly that life wasn't really worth the struggle. People who have never struggled tend not to appreciate just how hard it is to break out of the cycle of violence, or hurt, or addiction. They tend to oversimplify and rationalize feelings that have no logic. Pain isn't logical. Suffering isn't bound by rules. It hurts. I know these things. I've been in a relationship where I thought that if I could "save" the other person it meant that I was worth something more. Which I guess brings us full circle to the last post. I finally learned it was okay to have tried your best. My person didn't want help. But one day my son or daughter or future kids may know someone who they can help. 

I've never looked for God in huge displays of power or performing gigantic miracles. I've always seen God in sunny days and butterflies when I'm feeling lonely. I've felt him in praise music and my children's laughter. I've seen him in a military homecoming and I've heard him in a woman's cries as she gives birth. To me God is everywhere and I truly think we have the ability to help one another if we can find him. My mother in law shared something profound with me the other day. She'll be the first one to tell you she isn't perfect and she wasn't always as good of a Christian as she is now. She gets a lot of inspiration from her husband, who is without a doubt one of the kindest, funniest, most compassionate people I've ever met. He was in the ICU, where no one ever wants to be, and basically said If we learn to find the calm in the chaos we can find strength and hope in God. Now that's me paraphrasing but it really stuck with me. 

I hope that I can find some way to teach that to my kids. I work with him now, but even as incredibly smart as he is, Declan doesn't quite get that it's not kind to pinch his sister. It doesn't really register that pulling on the dog's face might make him sad and that screaming for 20 minutes because I won't let him watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on loop makes mommy angry/sad/frustrated/crazy. I hope that when he's in Kindergarden and a new boy comes to school that he'll be the first to offer the hand of friendship because he can understand what it might feel like to be left out. I hope that when he's in middle school, he stands up for the kid who gets picked on for coming to school in clothing a few sizes too big because he understands that some people don't have as much as we do. I hope that when he's in high school he is polite and kind and friendly and that he doesn't judge people based on what they look like. I hope he takes the effort to go outside his comfort zone. I hope he tries to lend a helping hand to someone, even when they don't seem like they are deserving of his kindness because sometimes they are the people who need it the most. I hope he won't turn his back on someone in pain. I hope he stands up for what is right.  I hope he takes it to heart when I tell him to try to love every other person he meets as much as Christ loved us. I hope he's a better person than I am today, tomorrow or twenty years from now. And I hope that at least a fraction of that is because I have tried to be a better person today than I was yesterday. 

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

― Mother Teresa