A Change in Plan

One of the things that most parents learn early on is that only bad things can come from abrupt changes to the game plan. Unless it involves a visit to see baby elephants or Ben & Jerry’s, most kids - particularly ones that are less flexible and slightly deficient in frustration tolerance - really don’t like to be taken by surprise. Preschoolers especially seem to have a knack for locking in on “the plan.” Any hope to shift their thinking requires a great deal of pre-emptive parental intervention and patience.

The same kind of patience it took to grow out your bangs for the first time. Only now, it takes repetition not barrettes for reinforcement. Creative thinking in place of hair gels with mega hold. And when things get really ugly (and the headband used to be your only fallback solution) use this instead: “ASK DADDY WHY THE PLAN CHANGED!”

Brett recently missed the pre-emptive parental intervention step. Instead of the normal routine of dropping Colin off at preschool at 9am, Brett had to change up the plan. The new plan involved dropping Colin off at his BEST FRIEND’s house at 8:30, heading across town to drop Lawton (and all his stuff) off at Grandma’s house by 9:00, and then busting it downtown to make a 9:30 meeting (showered and not in shorts for a change). Way more coordination than is required of me by 9:30am at the office.

So conventional wisdom might expect that a bonus 30 minutes at one’s BEST FRIEND’s house would be the cause of great delight. But then you would not be thinking like a focused preschooler who missed the all important parental set-up. Kind of like a computer who has trouble working with more than one application open at a time.
So the car meltdown ensued and Colin refused to get out the car. First there was wailing. Then there was prodding. Then there was pounding on the steering wheel. No baby elephant could have moved this boy. And so Brett waited. But the tears did not stop and so Brett did what we often have to do as parents, he got out the hair gel with mega hold.

He drove around to kill time until school opened. After several laps around a traffic circle, making grunting noises in lieu of profanity, he arrived at school roughly 7 1/2 minutes before 9am. Just early enough to say with surprise "Oh, we’re early today" but not too early to reveal the true desperation for early childcare assistance. After that, he raced across town to make the Lawton drop. Managing the drop off in ninety seconds, he made it to his downtown meeting by 9:32 thanks to some strategically timed speeding and a visitor friendly parking lot.

So when our friend Ellen mentioned last week that she was suggesting a change to our regular Sunday Supper kid routine, we knew that we needed to take immediate action. Instead of the normal routine of feeding the 9 kids first, then plopping them in front of a movie while the 8 adults ate (a very reliable and grown up friendly routine) … Ellen decided to mix up the plan with an after dinner craft activity that involved hammers. Hammers and lots of boys.

We sat Colin down on Thursday to explain the new plan – a plan that did not involve Scoobey-Doo or an animated talking animal. It was immediately met with some resistance, until hammers were mentioned and we confirmed the dessert plan remained intact. The luminarie project turned out to be a great success for all participants last night. The only slight issue that came up had to do with Colin wanting his luminarie on "all night long" in his room. Baby steps.

As I’ve been considering this whole issue of warning, I’ve actually been thinking about how much we as adults still require it ourselves. And, how even with it, it still often isn't enough to keep the crankiness at bay.

For example, even though I’ve had many life experiences to tell me that laptops not plugged in to an electric socket will, in fact, use and drain my battery and even though Microsoft was kind enough to put a batter indicator in my system tray for status, I still curse my laptop every time it shuts down “unexpectedly”. Doesn’t it know when I’m right in the middle of something very important?

Or, even more illustrative, I have gotten no less than a dozen emails over the past several weeks telling me that my 2008 benefits are changing. While I have acknowledged this truth, I guarantee that when I finally log in to enroll this week I will freak out about my new premiums. Because even with the warning, I can't stop long enough to really grock the inevitable disappointment and hit to my pocketbook that I know is just around the corner.

And so, I fully expect to not get out of the proverbial car for awhile -- or click accept on my new benefits enrollment -- without first doing a little dog and pony show in the privacy of my office. After that, I just may treat myself to a little Ben & Jerry's.