Letting Your Child Fail

One of the things that inevitably comes up with children is when and how you should allow them to fail.  This week I had two situations which kind of reflect on this.



The first was Demetri's Pinewood Derby.  (On a side note, it made me feel old to have a son old enough to be making a pinewood derby car.  It's a small step, but pretty soon it will be turning twelve instead of eight.)  The question is, how much effort should be expended towards making the car as fast as possible, especially with a goal of "winning".  Is it bad for a child to lose often?  We have to hope not, since only one kid out of the eighteen or so who entered could win.  Kids are eternal optimists, and all want to win first.  In Demetri's case, I was more worried than usual because of his experience with the raingutter regatta a few months ago, where he almost didn't get to race at all because I had no time to make the boat with him, and we procrastinated.  We did eventually get a boat put together on the day of, I think, but it was an unpainted, unadorned, far cry from most of the other catamarans and fancy boats there.  He was embarrassed about his boat being ugly, slow, and having a sail that kept sliding down the mast.  I'm not sure if he had the slowest boat, but he only won one heat, which didn't help because it was best-out-of-three.  I'm proud to say his car looked far better and took far longer than his boat, but sadly wasn't much faster, or so it seemed. I don't know really, as a double-elimination style tournament really only tells you for sure who was first and who was second; even third place could be heavily involved with chance. As it was, Demetri raced two and lost two. He was in tears I think at the end of the second race. (I was being a judge and he went to his mother for comfort). It did help that he was sitting next to a friend whose car met the same fate. Is it bad for a kid's confidence to put him in a race where at least three contestants are guaranteed to lose both times they get to race, all to believe they had the slowest car? It probably makes it worse that you spend so many hours making the car and weeks getting pumped up for the activity.



Today I had a run-in with my two-year-old, who decided he didn't want his diaper changed. It all stemmed from the fact that he really likes everything to be the same. He needs to have his Mickey Mouse (Huggies from Costco) diapers, and the blue-packaged Kirkland Signature wipes (not that he knows the name of the brands, he just knows the colors. We accidentally forgot wipes, and borrowed some from another family at church, who just happened to have Parents' Choice (purple-packaged) wipes. When he saw the wipes package was the wrong color, he decided he absolutely did not want his diaper changed. Instead of just bodily picking him up, going to the bathroom, and forcibly changing his diaper, I decided to explain the consequences of not getting his diaper changed, expecting his desire to return to nursery would overcome his revulsion of purple wipes. Boy, was I wrong! When we left nursery, there were about 20-25 minutes left, including snacks, my son's favorite part. He kept yelling and crying, saying he wanted to go back to nursery, and I kept patiently explaining that he could go back as soon as he let me change his diaper, to which he just kept responding, “No!” Knowing he fully understood me and his dilemma, I changed tactics. When he said he wanted to go back, I asked what he had to do to go back. All this won me was a vehement, “I DON”T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING!” I explained to him that if he didn't let me change his diaper, he wouldn't get to go back to nursery, and I would end up changing his diaper anyway. After a few minutes, I realized there was a very good chance he was just going to be stubborn the whole time, and totally miss nursery. I really thought about changing his diaper despite his objections, knowing that once he was through it, he would be much happier, and get to go back to a good place, nursery, instead of crying in the bathroom for twenty minutes. It was clearly the happier option, one he would be grateful of in the end, but it wasn't what he was choosing. Should I let him fail, and miss nursery, or force him to doing what I knew would make him happy? In the end, I waited until nursery was over, then changed his diaper over his objections like I already told him I would do. He went back to the nursery to find most the kids gone, his snack just being put away that had been waiting for him (which I didn't allow him to have; no, he was not actually really deprived of food), and nursery over. He cried about that, although honestly, he didn't cry during the diaper change or after arriving back at the nursery near as much as I expected. He even stopped crying for the diaper change, I think because he felt he was going to get to back to nursery now, which was a little sad. It amazes me how small things at any age can swell to such dramatic proportions. I can realize that me being late to a formation, or something like it, here in my job is really, in the long run, about as meaningful as my son missing the rest of nursery. It does make it so lessons of responsibility learned at age two can have lasting effects well into our adult lives though, which I think could be a great thing. Better to make the mistakes early.

Hot Cereal and the Internet

So my wife wanted me to start a blog.  We'll see how many people find it.  I can see how a blog could be worthwhile for others, but I'm not sure how you attract them to look at your blog in the first place.  We'll see if people find it on their own.

I'm grateful right now for the Internet.  We bought a 10-grain cereal (Bob's Red Mill) in a big bag, and my (wonderful) wife put it into smaller containers and through the bag away.  That's all and good, except I can never remember how to cook it, and I can't look on the bag.  I always think 2:1 water-to-cereal ratio, and try to cook it uncovered, when it's supposed to be 3:1 and covered.  You can probably guess how my cereal usually comes out.  Well, this morning I had the same dilemma, and my sweet wife isn't here to ask (and would still be asleep if she was here), but I finally realized I have the Internet.  Sure enough, it took about twenty seconds to find a high-resolution picture of the bag (and the instructions) on-line, and now I get to have a decent breakfast.  (Although Annie would say that adding peanut butter and jelly to your hot cereal could never be called "decent".  It's pretty good though.)