Out of the Frying Pan

It's funny, sometimes, how one set of issues will resolve, only to leave another, trickier set of issues in its place. Not funny ha-ha; but funny on-my-knees-praying-at-4:30-in-the-morning.

Issue #1: Release death grip from my neck and go play like a little boy. CHECK! On Monday, a group of neighborhood boys were playing football in our yard. Paul was fascinated. First he watched, covertly, out the window. Then, he opened the door, ran outside, screamed "Good job, boys!" and ran back inside. The boys eventually became curious about this reverse-ding-dong-ditchem cheerleader they had and asked him if he wanted to play. He shook his head no the first couple of times, but when they finished the game and hopped on their bikes, he begged me to let him go for a spin with the boys. After one spin around the block, I scooted to watch from home while Paul happily rode in the midst of the pack. I was so excited to see him comfortable and playing and having fun with kids that I nearly broke down and cried.

NEW ISSUE: Now all Paul wants to do is "play big boys". Which wouldn't be a problem except the boys are all ten, eleven and twelve. They seem like great boys (most of them), and most of them have younger siblings (girls. Paul's not interested in playing dolls, more's the pity), but they are big boys with big boy interests and big boy conversations. We had noticed previously with his cousins and some friends that he seems more keyed in to older boys than to kids his own age. He's street smart and competitive, and there's something about the bigger boys that attracts him. But I'm hoping to dial that back a little bit, let him be a six year old who plays six year old games and has six year old conversations with six year old friends. So now the prayer is how to limit and supervise his play time with the big boys without impeding on his one social connection thus far.

Issue #2: Overcoming fear of school. CHECK! This week Paul's been going to a kindergarten readiness class. (We've been trying to call it camp, to avoid confusion with the anticipation of school, WHICH STARTS IN LESS THAN THREE WEEKS!). Day one: clung to me all but the last twenty minutes, when he finally said, "Go, Mom. Go work. Paul stay." That afternoon/evening, processed "school" incessantly. (Broke my heart a little bit - "No, the teacher won't hit you with a stick." "Yes, I promise I will always come for you and take you home.") Day two: wanted to be carried to the door of the school, but then walked into his classroom. Days three and four: walked in like a big boy, happy and excited to be there. Whew! There's a lot of trauma in his history surrounding school, so this is HUGE!

Paul in his CAL T-shirt, ready to audition for the chapel band.

NEW ISSUE: Paul may be ready emotionally for school, but is school ready for him? He's enrolled in kindergarten at a wonderful K-12 Christian school, the school where I work and where his big sister will be a freshman. And I know he'll be loved on and prayed for. But it's also a rigorously academic school, and even the kindergartners jump in and take off reading and writing, adding and subtracting. Paul can match corporate logos on television to various items around our house, he can tell me how to get from our house to the sporting goods store, he can cook his own breakfast, and he knows how to jump-start my car (long story). But he's only been speaking English for two months. He doesn't know his letters. He gets easily frustrated and confused with numbers, which results in randomly shouting any number that comes to mind. And sitting still doesn't seem to come naturally. But we're going to try it. And we're going to pray, pray, pray it's not too frustrating or overwhelming, but that instead we can all work together to meet his needs right where they are.