A Key to Victor's Identity

Last night, Victor decided to watch the news with me. He loves asking me who everyone is and what they do. He especially loves seeing Barak Obama. "It's Barak Obama!" he says. "He is the president."

(We recently distinguished between "president" and "prophet," and learned that President Bush is now Governor Bush because his term was up.)

Anyway, Victor was interested in everyone's name and position until Dick Durbin came on the screen. His face lit up, and he said, "Hey! He looks like me!"

The Children's Museum

Today we went someplace new: the Children's Museum, downtown. Most of the exhibits are play areas: a kitchen, a doctor's office, a post office, and, most perplexing, a community center. There were also some vehicles to play in: a fire truck, stock car, police car, and airplane nose (which was being renovated). There were several train tables with a large supply of Thomas.

There weren't many people at the museum today, so Victor and Zeke had the run of the place. I was surprised, then, when Victor did not plunge into euphoria when he saw the fire truck, police car, mail Jeep, and stock car. I expected his normal response to any vehicle: "OOOooooo . . . it's a fire truck! Look, Mom, a fire truck! A big, big fire truck! It's so beautiful!," followed by siren noises and a dash for the fire truck.

That's not what happened today. He didn't want to approach them or touch them. He vehemently didn't want to sit in them. He only wanted to play with the Thomas trains.

Weird.

Zeke, on the other hand, was thrilled to sit in the stock car and climb on the fire truck. After ten minutes or so of Thomas, Victor decided to approach the vehicles. First, he went to the gas pump and filled up the stock car. Then he spun the wheel. Then he checked out the fire truck. And after that, he turned into his normal little self (he and Zeke really enjoyed hollering at each other through the pipe on the side of the fire truck).

What do I take away from this experience? I take it as evidence that Victor is growing up. He is approaching new situations more cautiously than before. Since before was dashing towards things while making happy, eardrum-splitting shreiks, it's probably best.

Wednesdays II

My dear sister Liz pointed out another thing that is great about Wednesdays: Life is on. If you don't watch it, it's terrific on all counts. Except for one thing.

Scheduling.

Why, oh why, did NBC have to put Life up against Lost? I am devoted to watching Lost. It is my TV trump, and this season is super-duper so far. NBC has lots of shows I don't like, and I would really appreciate it if they scheduled one of those shows during Lost, and put Life somewhere else. But not Tuesday, because that's my dance class.

Wednesday

Do you know what I like about Wednesday?

On Wednesday, I get to read Miss Manners' weekly column. (I read it online in the Washington Post.) It's delightful and informative.

And that's what I like about Wednesday.

Potty Drama

Last Wednesday morning, Victor told his babysitter that he wanted to wear underwear. He went to his drawer, chose some drawers, and put them on. A short time later, he had an accident in the dining room. When I came home, he had been changed and cleaned up, and he had also successfully used the toilet.

Since he hadn't used a toilet in months, I was completely confused when the babysitter told me he had had an accident. How can you have an accident when you're wearing a diaper?

Anyway, that afternoon, Victor decided that he wanted to stay dry and use a potty. I was skeptical, but decided to go with it. I put a whole lotta candy in a mason jar and set it on top of the fridge where he could see it. Every time he went potty, he got a bunch of candy.

This lasted for several days. Victor was very pleased with his successes, and he was very proud of being a big boy, but since it all seemed too good to be true, I decided that I didn't care if it worked out.

It didn't work out. He lost interest (except for after bedtime, of course). But at least I didn't care this time.

Love

It's Valentine's Day, so I thought I'd write a post about love.

There is a commercial on TV for Sylvan Learning Center, or something similar, in which worried mothers look at their teenagers in despair as the teenagers play soccer and listen to music. The voiceover says, in ominous tones, of course, "Does your son not gets his kicks out of algebra? Does your daughter prefer rocking out to writing an essay?" Then the tone of voice changes and sunnily suggests that your child will develop a lifelong love of learning at Sylvan (or wherever).

PBS runs countless commercials--I mean public service announcements--claiming that its programming turns children into lifetime lovers of reading. It even demonstrates things you can do to make your child book-loving for life.

Enough, I say!

Love is an emotion. It is not an assessment of capability or competence. Loving books does not make you better than someone who loves basketball. Loving learning does not make you better than--well, actually, I don't even know what it means to love learning. I like to absorb interesting facts and master enjoyable skills as much as the next person, but I wouldn't describe the experience as anything akin to my feelings for the people I love.

I am afraid that it is chic to claim a love of books as a shorthand for "I'm a good person." Claiming that one's child loves to read is shorthand for "this is pretty much the best child ever." And claiming that one or one's child likes to read books we all know are dead boring is the coup de grace.

Now, before you think I've jumped off the deep end or point out that I've said a bazillion times how much Victor enjoys books, let me say that my objection is not to reading or to people who enjoy reading. Heck--I like to read! I have even pretended to like books that I thought were boring. (I promise that's behind me.) I just don't think it's a moral failing or indicative of deep inferiority if a person does not like to read.

I propose that we excise the idea of loving to read as a social goal. Instead, we should focus on building competent readers. You don't have to love reading to be a good reader. Good: can read material (novel, newspaper article, white paper, bank statement, contract, play, scriptures, court case) and understand what it means, as shown by an understanding of chronology, cause and effect, plot, instructions, analysis, obligations, and other functional measures. I think it is far more useful to society to have competent readers than book-loving readers, because love does not beget competence (see the entire world of amateur athletics).

Finally, if it is somehow important to society that people "value" reading in a non-economic way, I believe a competent reader is more likely to truly enjoy a good book because he or she will be able to understand it.

So to the moms in the Sylvan commercial, I say, let your son play soccer and maybe he'll be more willing to do his algebra. What person wouldn't rather kick a ball than solve for x? And don't be dismayed that your daughter prefers music to writing essays. The whole opera industry revolves around this premise.

Housekeeping Tips of the Day

You can use a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser to gently coax permanent marker off fabric.

But you should not use a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser on yourself.