Nico has come a long way in learning how to deal with his emotions.
When he was an infant and toddler, before he could talk, whenever he was frustrated he would shriek, throw himself on the ground and log roll across the floor. These days, he has found more socially acceptable ways to handle his feelings.
I am particularly pleased to see that Nico has gotten very good at expressing himself through words, even if I am sometimes the target of his anger. Last week, I gave Nico a small notebook and encouraged him to write down his observations and feelings. He then proceeded to write a series of notes to his family members.
The first one, after Vic took him for a drive, said:
Thanks For The fun ride In down town.
The second one, to his brother, said:
I love win you Do Your stinky face. You are so cute And Funny.
His note to me, after we went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch, said:
Dear Lisa: [I'm not sure why he addressed me by my first name]
Thanks For Leting me Go to Dim Sum.
Then, in a particularly gracious mood, after a shopping trip, he wrote a note to the entire family:
Dear Lisa Vic and Nolan:
Thank you For Leting Me Have the Alarm Clock.
The next two notes took a political turn. Perhaps because we live between one neighbor who has an Obama sign in his front yard and a family with a McCain sign in their yard, Nico was interested in his dad's take on things, being an Independent and all:
Who Are You Going to vote??? Obama or Mcain?
Then, it looks like he got impatient because the next note said:
I Relly Want to Know.
I was quite proud of Nico's sophistication and interest in the presidential election, but alas, his next three notes followed his latest Captain Underpants obsession:
Please Dont fart in a Diper!!!
Please Dont Poop in a Diaper!
Please Oh Please Dont Pee in a Diaper too!!! Okay?!!!? Rerember!
Then, tonight, Nico somehow got his foot jammed in his brother's bedroom door. Nico screamed in pain and doubled over, holding his injured foot. When he finally stood up again, he started hitting the door with both fists. If there were a cartoon bubble above his head, it would have said something like "@#$%!# #@#$@%". Eventually, Nico settled down - without me telling him to - and he went to his bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later to hand me a note.
I hate the door. Its a teribol dork.
I told Nico I agreed with him that the door was quite terrible, and Nico repeated, "And it's a DORK." He told me to read the other side of his note.
The other side said:
It was so amusing to me that Nico sat down at his desk to compose his note and that even in his frustrated state, he signed his note with "Love, Nico". It reminded me of a story my mother-in-law told me about Vic when he was Nico's age. She had punished Vic for misbehaving and ordered him to sit still in a chair in the middle of the room. After he was allowed to leave his post, Vic wrote a note to his mom that read: "Dear Mommy, I don't like you very much right now. Love, Victor".
Six-year-old boys are so lovable!