Today was a bit of a juggling day and I picked up the boys with Mr. 1 in tow with the plan to spend an hour at the Museum of Science before dropping them off at Google with the Daddy so I could go to the Boston City-Wide Allergy Meeting. We wandered a bit with the boys not particularly wanting to interact with anything - after a long day at school they wanted to just push buttons for a bit. After a bit of encouragement, they perked up and we explored the fish tank with Mr. 1 who loved watching the fish the older boys made and piled in the command module for a flight. Everyone was definitely tired though.
I warned them we only had time for one last thing and Mr. 7 chose Mathematica and we explored a bit which we translated to chasing Mr. 1 down who wasn't interested while being called to look at things by Mr. 7. A bit cranky myself, I told the boys we had to go and Mr. 5 got angry and refused to come. He hadn't gotten to choose a last thing and was not leaving. It wasn't just the sad tears of disappointment - it was angry, yelling, and running away tears and I did not have the fortitude to deal with such drama. So our lovely trip ended with me yelling at everyone, lecturing on gratitude, taking away privileges, and finally telling Mr. 5 I was not taking him back for a long time despite the fact that I had to renew my membership to go in the first place. Some days do not end as well as you'd like.
I've been thinking about how best to teach the boys gratitude. They've learned to say thank you when given things but do not seem to appreciate us changing all our plans to fit in something that they really wanted to do. Or the work that went into a dinner one boy decides he doesn't like even before he's tried it. We talk about these things but sometimes I feel like they just don't care despite their hollow thank yous. Those are the days I leave the museum with a crying Mr. 5 and a cranky Mr. 1.
Then again - they often surprise me by asking how they can help when I'm having a hard day or telling me I'm the best cook ever. Maybe we'll do okay in the end.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I know the feeling! Poor Becca!
ReplyDeleteFirst Son had similar issues last week when we left Cowtown (a living history museum of the 1870s). Luckily Grammy was there so I could focus more on him and discussing the situation. I almost always find myself saying, "Remember, if you don't come happily when it's time to leave we won't be able to come back." Every time we go anywhere.