Calming Down

Ramona has a tendancy to get excited about things. She doesn't really forget things. She can't quite "move on".

This morning after breakfast Sumner settled into his perch in the Living Room to play with his lego nights, puling apart their limbs and rebuilding them in new ways. Ramona, in just her underwear, sat in bed with four dolls lined up and sitting along the wall across from her. She was talking with her big eyes to them about something that seemed urgent. Phil and I scurried around, not wanted to squander the few minutes they were "playing nicely", which is what Ramona calls entertaining herself.

Soon enough, the dolls were not enough for Ramona and she came to pester me. She told me about her plot to have a candle for every child at her birthday party (in six months) so that no one will try to blow out her candles, because "that would frustrate me if they did that." I agreed to this plan and then Sumner came in to ask who wanted to make a tower out of their fold-out tent with him. He was really asking me, but I was folding laundry and couldn't oblige. Ramona wanted to help, but she wanted to make a princess castle. He insisted on his idea and they ran to the site of the tent to battle out. Within the minute, there was shouting and wailing. I went to the scene and was able to peacefully negotiate a bargin where Ramona used the tent for the princess castle and Sumner used his bunk bed for the tower. They were satisfied and he went to collect the materials (paper, tape, and scissors) that he needed to build his tower.

Ramona lasted at the tent in the Living Room for about three minutes, while I swiffered the kitchen floor. Then she was drawn back to Sumner. He just wanted to make his tower in peace. She demanded that she be able to make her princess tower on the lower bunk. Soon, her squeaks turned into more shouting and wailing. Again, I intervened and they agreed to split the bunk bed. Then, for about a half hour they played together--nicely. The bunk bed was on its way to being transformed. Sumner weaved paper, made paper pockets, lots of triangular shapes with plans to tape them all over his bed. I am not sure what Ramona was doing aside from chirping and running to get stuff for him. I mopped the floor and caught the end of Weekend Addition.

The creating cullminated with Sumner up on his bunk taping furiously and then stopping to cut and throwing the scraps down to Ramona, who was once again screaming and crying. I tiptoed over the wet floor to reach them. She wanted his black scissors, but had worked herself bast wailing to a low grade tantrum. Sumner had the best scissors in the house.

Doesn't every house have a best scissors? We've got the useless (but safe) plastic kid scissors and kid's zig zag scissors and sewing shears (off limits to kids) and some crappy scissors (I picked up from some retiring teacher one May) and even meat scissors and then: the good ones. The Good Ones are used for pretty much everything from cutting open a bag of shelled crawfish to cutting off loose threads on clothing to kids' art projects. Ramona, understandably, wanted the Good Ones. So, I intervened again (should have stayed out of it) and brokered a deal where I would retrive the Zig Zag scissors and Ramona could use the Good Ones. They were amiable to this judgement.

But as soon as Ramona had the Good Ones and Sumner had the Zig Zags, she started screaming. "Those [the Zig Zags] are so special to me. I want them." She had really lost it this time. I couldn't talk to her. Sumner just went on working safely out of her way on the top bunk. She went from wailing to frenzy to near seizure. I tried to break in and talk. Sumner's paper scraps were landing on my head. She screamed. I tried to hold her and then rubbing her. Rubbing her gave me a word in edgewise.

I explained to her that it seemed that she just wanted whatever Sumner had and that she should just get down to using the Good Ones and get over it (dammit). I ackowledged that I thought she must want to play with Sumner, but that he was focused and she needed to let him do his thing (this part of the word in edgewise was much shorted than the dammit part). I asked her what we could do to calm her down. I suggested a book or a drink of water or listening to music or praying. She stopped crying. She furrowed her brow. I thought I was making headway. She had an idea. She said, "Having the scissors that Sumner has would calm me down."

I give up.