My middle child is a dreamer. You might say she’s flighty. A bit of a ding dong.
Trying to get her to focus long enough to complete a task is difficult to say the least. She’s easily distracted. She wants to sing and twirl and play. She is constantly imagining herself somewhere else. The drudgery of this world, things like putting on shoes, cleaning up toys, changing from pajamas into clothes, is just too uninteresting for her. She has no time to stop for such petty nuisances. Picture it:
Me: “Girls, please get your shoes on” (calling to them while packing some things in my bag as we’re getting ready to leave)
Miss: “Okay” (starts to put shoes on)
Lass: “La la lalalala laaaaa” (dancing, twirling, singing, swooping an animal or princess figure through the air, maybe sort of drifting in the direction of her shoes)
Me: “Okay, coats on please!” (handing them coats, realizing Lass is nowhere near getting her shoes on)
Me: “Lass, please get your shoes on!” (while putting Sis’s shoes on her)
Lass: “Laaaaa” (drifting, drifting, close to shoes, still twirling)
Me: “Honey! Put! Your! Shoes! On!”
Lass: “I AM!!!”
Me: “No you’re not. You’re dancing and twirling. That’s not putting on shoes.”
Lass: “MOM I AM! Stop talking.” (more dancing and singing) “I can’t find my shoes!” (They are right next to her)
Me: Head explodes.
The La-La Factor. That’s what this is. It’s taken me a while, but I finally have a name for it. It must be considered in all things. Cleaning up toys? Yes. Getting dressed? Yes. Making sure she doesn’t drown during swimming lessons? Yes.
It requires very precise, very specific instructions, given while making piercing eye contact. Like this exchange before leaving the locker room to go to the pool every single week:
Me: (on eye level with her) “Okay, what is our rule during swimming lessons?”
Lass: “Stay on the side of the pool unless my teacher says.”
Me: “Yes. Do not get in the water unless your teacher tells you to. If you get cold and if your teacher says you can, you can wait your turn in the water, but you always keep one hand on the side of the pool at. all. times. Do you understand?”
Lass: “Yes.”
Me: “Look at my eyes. One hand on the side all the time. Okay?”
Lass: “Okay.”
Excessive you think? Paranoid? Helicopter-ish? Well, even after going through that with her every week, even given the fact that her toes can touch the bottom in the area where they do lessons, I have still nearly had to jump in for a save more than once when she has “forgotten” my instructions, bobbled her little self out and away from the side, and gone under the water (while her teacher is instructing someone else clear across the pool). Even after all that, I still drenched myself while lunging for her in the zero entry area while she was playing before class, and her dancing and flopping around led her to lose her footing and go under (no preplanned instructions for that, I guess).
It’s okay really. Of course. The sweet girl is pretending and dreaming. It’s my job to think about the serious things in life, like potential drownings and keeping the house tidy and getting us where we need to be on time, not hers. But man, the La-La Factor throws a monkey wrench in my plans on a daily basis.
Getting dressed? I give clear instructions for her to get clean underwear, long pants and a long-sleeved shirt and put them on. I leave her to it while I get Sis dressed. I come back a while later and she is lying on her floor, pajamas off, no clothes on, singing a song while twirling her pants over her head. Or she’s pulling her pants up with no underwear on underneath. Or she’s sitting in her closet, pajamas still on, trying to put a dress on a doll. Every. day. She meanders. She flits. She dilly dallies. It’s utterly endearing. And utterly maddening.
In all fairness, Miss is not immune to dilly dallying. I’m sure no child is at this age. Though I think with her it’s less of a La-La Factor and more of a I’m-Pretending-I-Don’t-Hear-You-And-Intentionally-Moving-Very-Slowly-Because-I-Don’t-Like-To-Be-Told-What-To-Do Factor.
Oh well, what can I do? Besides giving specific instructions, periodically losing my mind redirecting gently, and incorporating the La-La Factor into planning for all things? I don’t like to hover. I adore that she’s so imaginative and playful. I guess I just enjoy that she’s dreaming. And leave lots of time to get ready for all things.
