Stacking of the Fourth Brick.

I have always felt a little uncomfortable around boastful parents who feel it’s their duty to reiterate how well their child is doing, and what they’ve achieved. Therefore, I have been a little stingy, or a better description would be, reluctant, to overplay Amelie’s development. But I mention it today because recently Amelie has began to collapse under the pressure of gaining perfection. For example, she has been practising the art of stacking blocks at nursery. I was met by one of her carers when I came to pick Amelie one evening. She was keen to tell me that Amelie had stacked four bricks on top of the each other. To bolster this achievement she showed me a picture taken of Amelie placing the last block on the previous three. I agreed that it was a momentous success. The carer then went on to say how clever Amelie was… no, actually that’s wrong; she wanted confirmation from myself that she was clever. Advanced is a word I’m hearing more of recently when conversation turns to Amelie’s progression. Due to the aforementioned reasons, I was reluctant to just rush in and agree, feeling to do so may make me one of those delusional parents who think their child is the best child in the world. Instead, I pointed out that being Amelie is out first child, I have no frame of reference if her achievements far exceed her age. I then added, to hopefully deflect from the fact I was feeling very uncomfortable, that I didn’t know where this cleverness came from. In retrospect, I should have said she gets it from her mother, so if you’re reading this Carla, sorry (but it’s true – that clever gene has definitely been handed down from yourself). I then went into the room, picked Amelie up and took her back home. At home, I retrieved four wooden blocks we had purchased months ago, and called Carla into the room. I placed them in front of Amelie and asked her to show Mummy what she’d learnt, expecting very little from the demand. Surprisingly, Amelie began to stack the blocks, and on first attempt balanced all four. The room quickly filled with clapping and cheers. Amelie then proceeded to remove the blocks and try again. On the second attempt she failed, only stacking three blocks instead of the four. The fact that she failed was of no concern to myself, or Carla, but for Amelie, based on her emotional outburst, it was the end of the world. We tried to comfort her the best we could, but her frustrations had already taken over and nothing was going to calm her down, save for maybe a few grapes (Amie can’t get enough of them).

This isn’t an isolated case, either. We have noticed her falling on the floor in moments of despair, bawling uncontrollably, at the slightest fault, problem or obstacle she cannot master. If she wants something, and cannot articulate what her needs are, or we cannot understand her demands, then again, she falls to the floor in a heap. If she wants to go into the kitchen, and we close the door, because her hands haven’t mastered the latch, she cries her eyes out. We have also noted her engaging in acts that could potentially be dangerous. We have an open fire, one of those wood burning fires. We never use it, but Amelie has a habit of grabbing the guard and shaking it. With no fire, the act is just annoying. But that’s not to say that one day there won’t be a fire. So we said repeatedly, No. No. Dangerous, Amelie. This didn’t work. We raised our voice slightly and addressed her at the same level. Still nothing. We picked her up and moved her to a different part of the room. This just made her laugh. We repeated this action over and over, and it turned into a game for Amelie.

It appears we, as parents, are not supposed to take these outbursts personally. Amelie is frustrated, and is unable to communicate in a way that would allow us to understand what is triggering her frustrations. It takes a little detective work on our part. Post-collapse, we have to look at what events led up to the outburst, and work backwards. Can we prevent them from happening again, and if not, what other means can we implement to reduce the risk of her becoming upset. It is not conducive to a baby to hear the word No repeatedly. They are new to the world and everything they touch, see or hear is fascinating. For a child to grow up unable to experience the world around them without hearing the word No, could potentially end in the child becoming very negative later in life. Distraction is the key, or so I’ve been told. If a child is doing something they shouldn’t, for example, shaking a fireguard, the key is not to say No, but instead, introduce something that looks more fun than the act they’re currently engaged in. Distraction. If they become frustrated and begin to cry, for example, being unable to stack the fourth brick, make encouraging noises that suggest failure can be okay. To summarise – implement distraction techniques and encourage failure. Or roughly translated – help temper your child’s motivation by encouraging attention deficit disorder. Okay, I’m being flippant, something I’ll assume came from growing up in a world surrounded by people saying no to me a lot. Regardless, I hope it’s just a phase she’s going through.