It's sunday night. I'm sitting on the couch, surfing sc as is normal. B. is doing whatever it is that she does. The last christmas cartoon comes to an end. The little guy walks up beside me and gives me a hug. I hug him back. Then I tell him it's time to get his jammies on and get ready for bed.
Suddenly, the corners of his mouth turn down. His eyes well up with tears. His bottom lip starts to quiver. Now, this is not normal behavior for him, he usually loves bedtime, because that's when we go and read the next exciting adventure of Bilbo. But tonight, I knew something was wrong. So I said, in true male fashion, 'what's wrong?' He choked back the tears, swallowed hard, and in his little quivering voice said, 'don't we get to play a game of sorry?'
You see, for several weeks now, part of our nightly routine has been to have a MinuteMade frozen juice bar, play a game of sorry, get ready for bed and read Bilbo. Some might even remember that I used the game of sorry to teach him the importance of hitting the target when he goes potty, which worked instantly, and very well.
But today was different.
We had gone grocery shopping, and he was a very good boy in the store. I started to do dishes, and he asked if he could help, and did a wonderful job. He picked up all his toys. He even went around and turned off all the lights that weren't in use. And he did this all without even being asked, just took it on himself to do them.
What I hadn't realized was that in his mind, if he was a really good boy, and did extra, maybe we'd play two games that night, because he knew I would be at school on Monday and not be able to play at all. Imagine his shock and disappointment when he realized that not only were there not two games of sorry tonight, but there were NO games of sorry!
My heart just broke for him. I almost caved and said we'd play a quick game, just because he'd been such a good boy all day, but it was past bedtime, and it just was no longer an option. So I very gently and carefully explained to him that he had gotten to go out to the store, got to help with the dishes (which, by the way, he loves to do, at least for now), got to watch several christmas shows, and was still going to get to hear the adventures of Bilbo. He agreed with each and every one of my points, but I could tell he still felt somewhat betrayed.
That got me thinking as to what my actions were teaching this little guy. Was I saying to him that if he does everything I've told him is his job, and also goes the extra mile, it won't result in extra priveledges, and one might even be taken away? Is that enough of an incentive to make him stop trying to excel? Will he see any extra effort as pointless?
Well, I did my best to stave off that idea by telling him that a game of sorry was not written in stone, that it was something I enjoyed doing with him, but not to expect it every night. I did my best to show him that there were other special things that he had today to displace the sorry game. I started him on the path of understanding that excelling in a task is a reward in itself, even if there are no external rewards given. I think he understood, at least as well as a child can.
Just in case, I think we'll play two games of sorry tonight.
