Crossing Imaginary Borders

Subtle Transition from Toddler to Preschooler

William Sundwick

He’s three now.

Birthdays are getting to be old hat for my grandson, who is learning to take them in stride. The calendar is still a fuzzy concept though. When asked at his party on Saturday, “when is your birthday, Owen?” his reply was “ummm.” I think he didn’t know or understand that it wasn’t until the following Monday, two days away. He knows about changing seasons:  it’s Fall because of the leaves changing color and falling to the ground, Winter comes next, when it’s “Colddd!” – but since we had an early snowfall a few days before, which melted, it must mean we already had Winter?

The idea of years is still unknown to Owen. Not long ago, during an excursion to the local elementary school playground, when Mom told him that the adjacent building would be his school when he gets to kindergarten, he explained to all of us later, “I’m going to kindergarten!” But, when? For several days, his favorite refrain was “I want to go to kindergarten.”

His answer on Saturday to the question, “how old are you, Owen?” was confident, unhesitating –

“Three!” That was, after all, the number stuck on top of his cake! If his grasp of the calendar is less than precise, his new comfort with himself as agent and actor is quite precise. He now always begins declarative sentences with “I want …”, “I did” or “I’m going to …” He no longer refers to himself in the third person, like he did last year, when declarative statements often began “Owen is …” or “Owen does …” The discovery of “I” is philosophically important.

Developmentally, there is a distinction between looking/hearing/moving and seeing/listening/deliberating. Owen did eagerly show off his very deliberate “exercises” to me on Thanksgiving, learned from his mother. I could duplicate only some of the stretching myself! He is clearly more agile at three than his grandpa is at 71.

He looks around trying to find what to do next but seems more attuned to revisiting the familiar (at our house, at least) than exploring the unfamiliar. Repetition of play behavior associated with us is the most likely trigger, either at our house or his.

Conversation is an art Owen is still developing. He hears what you say, and frequently parrots it back (including new words), but there is less evidence that he is listening and processing a response. He retains his favorite response to any statement, as he has for some time: “Why?” Retorts with this interrogative are what pass for conversation – and, it does have its charm. Mostly, however, we listen while he talks.

According to his dad, Owen is also showing signs of another aspect of Self – he is beginning to lie! He apparently can code what statement or which answer is most likely to get him what he wants and supplies those words. Regardless of whether they are objectively true, even to Owen.  I encountered an example when babysitting at his house the day after his party. “I have to go potty!” said O., “Okay, do you want to use the big potty or the little one?” (i.e., the regular toilet or the portable “Lil’ Loo” toddler training potty in his room). His choice, ”the little one”.  We go upstairs to his room, “all done!” “Okay, let’s go in the bathroom and wash your hands,” moving next door expecting him to follow, his answer, “Daddy says I don’t have to wash my hands when I use the little potty” – “Oh?” seemed reasonable only for a preschooler who knew he didn’t soil his hands anyway, and didn’t understand the need to take more time from play. Dad confirmed later, it was a lie! 

Owen relates to others as you might expect. Most people in his life are there to pay attention to him and serve him. The only noteworthy exception is his baby sister Mira, now three months old. She doesn’t seem to owe him anything. Perhaps she’s still enough of a novelty to be entertaining for Owen. But everybody else must respond to his commands, “Watch me!” or “Play with me!” Oddly, one of the hallmarks of his toddler assertiveness, “Me do it!” has given way to “You do it …” – is it laziness? Or, more likely, impatience with skills already mastered? He will watch, to see if he can learn more, especially small motor tasks, like operating a screwdriver, but is less likely now to have the patience to perform a task himself. Sometimes, he almost takes pride in saying “I broke it!” so that he can then demand, “Fix it, grampa!”

Play-acting has remained one of his favorite activities for some time. He will be a monster, a dinosaur, a bear, or a pet. Something that can roar or make animal sounds. Often, he plays the role of a worker “man” (fill in the job, followed by “-man”). Having a job seems to be rewarding for him.

Whether animal or worker, he’s usually aware that he is play acting. He doesn’t really believe he is that character. Even when playing with toys, or building with blocks, he frequently slips into the play-acting mode (he’s a monster and smashes the house he’s made with blocks, or a “package man” who drives a toy truck to the opposite side of the room to make a “delivery”). Indeed, play-acting seems to capture his imagination more than engineering. When he builds with Duplo blocks, his buildings

often have no doors or windows, but are simply enclosures for a toy vehicle (a “garage”), or are towers, whose only purpose is to be as high as possible before tumbling down. Although, he does seem to be aware of the need for “stabilizers” on structures made with blocks, it seems awareness of physics is primordial at best.

Owen’s new favorite word, potentially a replacement for the interrogative, “why?”, is “actually.” The meaning of this preface has clearly been learned from adults (his parents?), and in O’s case it is not intended as a statement of fact. Instead, it denotes rebuttal, or change of mind. Much as “why?” is intended as a conversation starter, “actually” at the opening of a statement is intended as an assertion. Owen is declaring, “now it’s my turn!” So, every sentence begins this way.

Do all these observations of my grandson indicate anything more than that he’s growing up? Probably not, but his new mad skills appear to position him advantageously for entering the pre-school of his choice, any time his parents deem it appropriate. Owen’s mother, however, is a professional early childhood development specialist. And, his father is a highly analytical team-building media professional. The family day care center three doors down their street has been Owen’s comfortable

second home since he was an infant. His parents feel that “Miss Eymy” continues to run a supportive, nurturing, and educational environment for her charges – and, now she can accommodate little Mira, too! Not likely they could find a better setup in the short term. So, at least for another year, the day care arrangement will remain unchanged. It is already Owen’s “school.” He has always called it that, as have his parents. Miss Eymy even regaled him with chocolate cupcake on Monday, for a second birthday party!

Although his dad and uncle were both enrolled by age three in more formal pre-schools, we are but one set of grandparents. This grandfather is willing to grant Owen’s parents more good parenting sense than we ever had. Owen will be fine in his fourth year!

School’s Out!

Even Family Day Care Gets Summer Vacation

William Sundwick

It happens every year. This is Owen’s second summer vacation from the family day care provider in his neighborhood. Grampa and GiGi volunteered to take three days out of the facility’s five-day closure. We played, we napped on the Aerobed in Grampa and GiGi’s bedroom, bought just for Owen. And, then the big event Friday – we got a haircut at the award-winning Westover Barber Shop. They specialize in kids’ haircuts! Topping it all off, we visited the Westover Library and had lunch at the Lost Dog Café.

As he gets bigger, Owen is more confident of his place in the world. He is comfortable with us, our

house, our toys – and, we have now discovered, our neighborhood business district! This was his third haircut at Westover Barber Shop. He already knew the people there. And, he knew the Library and Lost Dog, too! Comfortable, confident, more interested in the truck and bus traffic he saw through the windows than what was happening inside.

But, if there was a lull in the adventure content of what he saw and heard, he made up for it with his active imagination – he became a “trash man,” the toy ambulance was rushing to an “emergency,” Grampa was “sick”! Or, Owen was a “monster,” making gruff roaring sounds.

As soon as he arrived Tuesday morning, the first thing he asked for was “trains” (the Brio collection inherited from the older boy next door when he outgrew them).

Then, thanks to GiGi buying sidewalk chalk for him, we went outside on the patio and drew on the pavers – long, straight lines, rather impressive. Grampa suggested two lines, different colors, equal length, next to one another. Then, the two pull-back vehicles entered the scene – a DRAG RACE! (Credit Grampa’s imagination for that.) it worked. The lifted Hummer beat the Crown Vic police car!

To prove to us that he was a “big boy,” Owen presented no resistance to afternoon naps on that nicely dished out Aerobed, with a full-size pillow (prepped, to be sure, with the requisite two bedtime stories). Like the barber shop, naps were a piece of cake for him – been there, done that!

When comfort begins melting into boredom, Owen easily fills in with his play-acting skills (child development specialists like his mom call this “imaginative play”). Presented with the same toys, the same Brio tracks, the same rooms, that he knows so well, he can make something different happen with them each time. The boredom isn’t in his head – maybe his grandparents? But, Grampa, at least, has no problem letting Owen take the lead, letting those wonderful fantasies go wherever they may.

As engaging as he is now, his life will soon be turned upside down with the arrival of a new baby sister! Owen knows she’s coming – Mommy and Daddy have spent much time talking to him about that. When GiGi mentioned her doctor’s appointment, Owen asked, “Do you have a baby in your tummy?”

When It All Comes to an End

… Grandfatherly Affection for a Very Young Grandchild

William Sundwick

I’ve read much about the pros and cons of a late start raising a family. Often, these pieces are aimed at young women, with the best of intentions. There are good feminist reasons for delaying child birth, although not too long, for equally valid medical reasons. And, much research indicates that older parents are often better parents. But, what about dads? Are they also better dads if they are more mature, better established in their chosen profession? There is so much incentive to get more years of education, more secure financial position, better resume – all before becoming “tied down” to a family!

As a result, dads get old before they become grandfathers. 

And grandfathers, especially if they have raised their kids to also start late, can be very old! What may be gained by providing that steadier hand for their children, is offset when it comes to generational continuity as grandfather. I’m not saying that I should live to be a great grandfather, but it would be nice to see your grandchildren (at least one of them) grow into a man, graduate from college, meet a spouse --whatever.

Sigh. I have a 20-month old grandson. There may be more coming, maybe not. But, I know I’m not getting any younger -- despite the rejuvenating effect of babysitting a toddler. Actuarially, I’m not likely to make it very far into his adulthood. I’m 70 now.

 He will soon learn my name -- I hear attempts to say something approaching “appa,” but usually he gives up and just shouts “daa-daa” (even when his own dad is not present).

But, will he ever know me? Since we live in the same area, theoretically there is every chance that we can become very familiar. I am, so far, in pretty good health. No obvious infirmities, but that may change by the time he reaches a more impatient stage in his own development (adolescence).  Grandma seems more playful, less reserved, than Grandpa – perhaps Grandpa is intentionally withholding that playful side, for fear of it being unrequited?

What common experiences will we share? Right now, his world consists mostly of exploring his new-found autonomy and agency -- everything is new. He’s fascinated by all of it, but certain behaviors have longer-lasting appeal, it seems. He loves placing things in containers, and tries endless combinations of different things being placed in the same container. He also assiduously mimics kitchen behavior -- “cut, cut” with a plastic knife or fork is downright compulsive. It is always followed by “eat” or “food” o “hot” -- among his earliest words. Both parents are die-hard hipster foodies! His mother maintains a vegetable garden … and often works there with him. And, his other grandfather gave him a kitchen play set which has been sitting in the dining room since before he could stand at its mock sink and oven. Now he prepares full meals there – placing pots on burners (“hot”), offering plates of fake soft pillow fruits and vegetables to his guests (“eat”, “food”). 

Eventually, I must accept that grandpa will mostly be known by his legacy, not by shared experiences. When it all comes to an end, that legacy will hopefully be transmitted by his dad. His dad knows me, for sure. And, whatever family history is conveyed to my grandchildren, I trust my two sons will relay the appropriate mix of myth vs. reality.

How can I protect him from the future, after I’m gone? I’m convinced that things will get increasingly difficult during his lifetime. By the time he’s my age, much of the planet may well be uninhabitable. Even if apocalyptic climate change is somehow averted, there is still the ever-present danger of social collapse. Migration to another country may be necessary, to escape the inexorable drift toward civil war in the U.S. Then, what about other dangers -- disease, accidents, economic dislocation? I don’t want him to endure any of these afflictions. Can my legacy provide him security? Probably not, alas.

As I contemplate human history, however, I ask myself: isn’t this the universal condition of civilization? One generation passes its legacy to the next, nobody lives forever. That legacy is always a skillful blend of storytelling, part myth, part documented events. Teaching a younger generation “life’s lessons” has always been a dicey proposition, at best -- it makes more sense just to tell a good story!

My grandson doesn’t know any of this yet. He’s too busy finding things that fit inside other things, and mimicking kitchen behavior of his parents. But, he is learning at a phenomenal rate. So long as he is protected from disaster, we’ll tell ourselves, “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” And, his parents both believe they do know it -- all! -- a bonus for him. Their confidence is truly amazing. They are among the lucky few who may be right about that, too!

As for myself, Grandpa, I remain optimistic that my wisdom will be accepted, if offered in small doses. Perhaps it will even be sought at times. Grandparents are, indeed, helpful -- babysitting in a pinch, allowing them escape from the crushing burden of 24/7 toddler parenting duty; or, those errands run for overworked, ambitious parents. And, then, there’s that Virginia 529 college savings plan … 

Fingers crossed, my grandson and I are poised to explore many new things together -- for a while, at least. And, when it all comes to an end – there is that legacy!