Sod of the Month

The nice thing about having two children, at least in our family, is that rarely do they both behave disgustingly at the same time. Their respective phases tend to be just that: respective, and while there always, always seems to be one that is out of kilter, there is more often than not one delightful child to counter the Sod of the Month.

Liam started Grade 0 at a nice Anglican all boys' school this year and given that:
i. he was at a Montessori nursery school before, and
ii. he is Jewish,
you can only imagine the culture shock. Charting your own course a la Maria Montessori, coupled with Jewish Chutzpah is not de rigeur at said Anglican school. Oy vey! Liam is also sensitive, imaginative, pig-headed, empathetic, intelligent and very (ahem) exuberant. Nevertheless, all of these bits and pieces have made Grade 0 quite an adjustment and his hard work trying to hold it together in the classroom has left him often unbridled at home.

But, like most things, the phase seems to be ebbing and Liam is settling back into the best of himself - thoughtful, caring, responsible and wickedly funny.

And just as he does, Benjamin develops what can only be described as a paediatric fashion pathology. I don't know if he has genuine sensory issues (likely), innate fashion sense (unlikely) or if he is just entirely full of shit (most likely), but getting this child dressed has become the bane of our existence. To put it in perspective, Ben is 3.5 years old. He is fiercely independent, has a memory like an elephant, screams and shouts a lot, is one of the cutest kids you will ever meet (and he knows it) and is naturally affectionate and sweet-natured. He is about the height of a garden gnome as well, which makes his bad-ass repetition of TV catch phrases all the more ironic. (I particularly enjoyed it when he asked me two weeks ago, "How about my balls on a silver platter?")

For about a month now, every dressing episode ends in tears (mostly him; sometimes me). He insists on wearing T-shirts in Winter (and no - not with a long sleeve thermal underneath), only wears tops with hoods, won't wear jeans because they're 'not comfy', wears one pair of shoes only, will only wear underpants with pictures, refuses to wear PJ's without underpants and favours one particular pair of dodgy tracksuit pants that he will haul out of the wash to wear if he needs to.

The worst part is that after 40 minutes of negotiating, star charts, choices and limits, when he is finally dressed relatively appropriately, he will burst into tears, tell me he is 'not comfy', 'not cool' or that what he is wearing is 'disgusting' and the process begins again.

I have tried Zero Tolerance. I have shouted. I have ignored and ignored and ignored. I have offered options. I have downloaded a Star Chart app on my iPhone (so far, the most useful tool). I even locked him in his room at the game reserve this weekend until he got dressed. It works. Once. And then we are back to Square 1 the very next day.

Luckily, he's the second child, so I'm not too bothered if he leaves the house in track pants, an Iron Man mask and Liam's over-sized T-shirt. I also know now that in every phase that is irritating to parents, there's a lesson the little blighter is learning about himself, the world and how he negotiates through it.

And I would never admit it to Benjamin, but somehow, his manic compulsion is one of the funniest, sweetest things I've ever seen.