Those were the words of my two-year-old as we sat on the floor together. I had told her we would color after she picked up her blocks. After continual hounding, a couple trips to "time out," and turning the project into a game where she threw the large plastic toys into a bucket as fast as she could, the job was complete.
"I color now?" She remembers everything. It was actually close to lunch time, but I figured I better make good on my promise. I pulled out the enormous sketch pad and her triangle-gripped crayons and placed them on an old sheet to protect the floor. "Do my hand," she said as she slapped it down on the pad to be traced. I did. "Now this one," as she held up another color to use. "And this one," she continued on and on until we'd traced her hand in four different colors.
After that, she was content to scribble on the pad for a while. "I'm a good dad," I told myself as I pulled out my phone while she occupied herself. When she looked up to see what I was doing a minute or two later, I thought I noticed a slight frown. "I color Elmo.?!" she asked in a way that sounded as if she was demanding, requesting and excitedly stating at the same time. Of course, right when I settle my eyes on a blog post worth reading. I get up, retrieve her Elmo coloring book and set it down in front of her.
"Daddy color Elmo" she said this time in a matter-of-fact assumption as she cocked her head slightly to the right. I colored a picture of him sitting on a recliner for a couple minutes and eventually passed the crayon off to her. Finally, she was occupied again. I quietly pulled my phone back out and after only a couple minutes she looked back at me and said the phrase above in an honest and exasperated tone.
You've read these kinds of posts before. The points: quality is not equal to quantity; time given is more important than time spent; intention is communicated in spite of action (even to two-year-olds!).
Thanks for this though reminder, sweet girl.
"I color now?" She remembers everything. It was actually close to lunch time, but I figured I better make good on my promise. I pulled out the enormous sketch pad and her triangle-gripped crayons and placed them on an old sheet to protect the floor. "Do my hand," she said as she slapped it down on the pad to be traced. I did. "Now this one," as she held up another color to use. "And this one," she continued on and on until we'd traced her hand in four different colors.
After that, she was content to scribble on the pad for a while. "I'm a good dad," I told myself as I pulled out my phone while she occupied herself. When she looked up to see what I was doing a minute or two later, I thought I noticed a slight frown. "I color Elmo.?!" she asked in a way that sounded as if she was demanding, requesting and excitedly stating at the same time. Of course, right when I settle my eyes on a blog post worth reading. I get up, retrieve her Elmo coloring book and set it down in front of her.
"Daddy color Elmo" she said this time in a matter-of-fact assumption as she cocked her head slightly to the right. I colored a picture of him sitting on a recliner for a couple minutes and eventually passed the crayon off to her. Finally, she was occupied again. I quietly pulled my phone back out and after only a couple minutes she looked back at me and said the phrase above in an honest and exasperated tone.
You've read these kinds of posts before. The points: quality is not equal to quantity; time given is more important than time spent; intention is communicated in spite of action (even to two-year-olds!).
Thanks for this though reminder, sweet girl.
No comments:
Post a Comment