Careers

"You know what I say about business?" Rose asked me over lunch. "Everybody is a consumer, but not everybody is a producer."

"Wow, that's pretty insightful," I said. "Did you just think of that yourself?"

"Yep," said Rosie. "I always try to look on the bright side."

"So what do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked.

"The direction I'm leaning in right now is trapeze artist," she said.

"But then you wouldn't be a producer," I said, "unless you consider that producing entertainment for others to consume is being a producer."

"No," she said thoughtfully. "I'm also leaning towards directing movies or stage plays, though."

Meeting New People

I took Rosie to my old workplace today and in the rush, forgot to consider that she'd be meeting some of my former co-workers. It would have been better if I had prepared her - she doesn't distinguish faces very well, so that's one reason greeting is frightening for her. She hid behind me and made agitated noises somewhere between whimpers and squeals. I got her calmed down, and then someone tried a little peek-a-boo to cheer her, and of course it had the opposite effect. "I want to go hooooommmme!"

I think we need to create a formal plan for how to handle this. A social story can probably help. Plus maybe suggesting that she pick out a feature on each person's face that looks unique. She can do individual features. Must think...

Magpie

Today was a particularly good day. Rosie's been going around for the last couple of days with that content and satisfied look that results from a job well done followed by a treat. In this case, she's finished with her second grade work and was promoted to third grade on Monday. Yesterday we went to the library and she's been absorbed by something interesting and new to read practically every conscious minute.

So today, we got up in a leisurely fashion, and then Rose decided to start working on her summer projects. She got out her microscope and notebook and started going through her new slides and drawing out her observations. Her dad punctured a finger and I made a slide smear for her. After six pages of notes and drawings - this from a kid who would rather jump off a cliff than complete a page of handwriting practice in school - she quietly put away her microscope and tidied up completely without any prompting.

Next, she decided she wanted to help out, and put a load of dishes into the dishwasher for the first time - nearly perfectly. "I felt I wanted to do something useful," she said. Darn straight that's useful! I'm glad to know that I can try to put this into a regular range of chores.

Overall, a very satisfying day for everyone. Though she was a bit distressed by her dad's reaction in the afternoon, when it turned out that she had been so attracted to the tiny screws in his computer case that she gathered them all up and secreted them in a dresser drawer. "They're so shiny!" she wailed. "I couldn't help it! I didn't know!" It's ok, I told her, you're just like a magpie. She loved that. Magpies came up in conversation all day. I had no idea there were so many literary phrases that included magpies.

What to do when you worry too much

We've found a fantastic kid's book titled What To Do When You Worry Too Much. It gives kids a great cognitive tool to use to help control worries that spiral out of control, objectifying the worry into a pesty creature that you imagine forcing into a box and locking up away from the nourishment of your attention, so that it instead of growing, it starves until it's small enough to take out and look at when you're ready.

In just a couple of weeks, Rose has been able to reduce the impact of various anxieties and uncertainties, which is fantastic. It's not that the worries don't happen (ants! moths! germs! new experiences! unfamiliar procedures!), because the world is still full of worries; and it's not that the box metaphor gets used deliberately every time a worry arises. It seems that it's the very idea of knowing that you can objectify the worry and refuse to "feed" it that works. She has that much more control and ability to back off the escalation of anxiety and her reactions aren't as severe.

I've started using it myself; as a visual metaphor it's a bit more effective than the more verbal reasoning of adult cognitive therapy. ("Now, what's the worst that can actually happen?") And I need it - I've gone off my anxiety / depression meds, so I'm right back where I am, except better-rested.

Ironically, Rose came in while I was writing this, flipping out about the possibility that there might be a moth in the bathroom. "Don't feed that worry, " I said. She thought about this but still twisted her mouth up and jumped from foot to foot.

I tried another tack. "You're borrowing a worry - do you know what I mean? You don't see a moth in there, but you think there might be one and you don't know for sure, so you've gone down to the worry bank and asked the teller for a worry, since you're all out." That got a grin, and at least a change in breathing. "What could you do about it?"

"I could go use your bathroom," she said.

"If that works for you," I said.

"OK!"