Driving Miss Daisy
I am fully convinced that Seth is really a fussy 89-year-old woman who’s trapped in the body of a 3 1/2-year-old boy.
More often than not, if I turn on my music, he gets upset with me telling me to turn it off because “it’s too loud”. (If he can hear it even slightly, its too loud.) Also when he takes a bath or has gone to the pool, he’ll exclaim, “don’t get my hair wet!”
In traffic, there are alot of times he’ll scream at me to slow down. And he refuses to eat peanut butter and jelly or really anything that makes his hands sticky.
A few months ago, his babysitter corrected him. He got mad and carried a grudge for more than 6 weeks. He couldn’t even remember WHY he was perturbed but he sure could remember to be angry with her.
On Wednesday, when I walked the dog, he accompanied with his Harley Trike. He’d fuss if I tried to give him a push to get him going. He’d fuss if I didn’t. He’d fuss about going too fast. Apparently, his idea of a safe speed is barely moving. He has been fussing like a little old lady since he’s come out of the womb. (Although he has had alot of therapy for his Sensory Integration Dysfunction, as you can see, there are still a few issues we deal with.)
So I’ve been calling him “Daisy” these days — from the movie, “Driving Miss Daisy.” Because sometimes I get very frustrated and saying that is sort of a joke that keeps me from screaming at him. My hubby thinks this nickname is funny and has taken to calling Seth “Daisy” too. And wow, I can completely relate to Morgan Freeman’s character in that movie. Because that cranky ole’ Miss Daisy has nothing on Seth some days.
Nap Queen on 08 Feb 2006 at 4:37 am #
Oh. My. God. You really had me laughing at this one. Your son sounds like a HOOT and I think it’s hilarious that you’ve been calling him Daisy!!!!!!!!! What an awesome mom.
Bridgermama on 08 Feb 2006 at 5:55 am #
You are so clever! I love the way you can add humor to a crazy situation. Your little guy is so lucky to have such a patient funny mama.
Jaelithe on 08 Feb 2006 at 3:58 pm #
Ah Isaac is sensory seeking instead of sensory avoiding when it comes to music. Meaning that he constantly asking me to turn some sort of particular music on and then begging me to leave said music on ALL DAY LONG. Which sounds like fun until you’ve listened to the World Lullabies CD for the 432nd time in a row, and now he’s begging for you to turn the TV on too so he can watch Thomas or something, but when you turn the music off as you turn the TV on so that everyone in the house doesn’t develop noise-induced ADD, he SCREAMS like and art historian who just saw someone take a chain saw to the Mona Lisa.
He will also yell and cry and glare daggers at you and even every once in a great while go so far as to come up and smack you if you try to sing along with his favorite songs. Seriously.
(He’s not generally a hitter. I think he’s hit someone maybe less than 20 times in his life– which is a pretty excellent record for an almost-two-year-old!– but probably half those times were times when someone started singing along with his music and wouldn’t stop).
(And no, it’s not ’cause I’m a terrible singer, LOL. He actualy likes it quite a bit when I sing songs to him acapella. He just can’t stand it when I sing along with his CDs).
He’s really freaked out by a lot of other noises, though. Positively terrified of vaccuum cleaners, loud blenders, electric screwdrivers, or any similar loud high-pitched whirring noise. His whole body goes rigid like someone just shocked him with an electric current when he hears one of his “scary” noises, and he often cries– pitiful, terrified crying, not the fake toddler tantrum kind– for half an hour straight even after you’ve turned the offending appliance off.
Needless to say, we don’t get to vaccum as much as we would like around here . . .
I sure would think this kid was weird if he didn’t remind me SO much of myself when I was little . . . I was, after all, that kid who flat out refused to wear wool, polyester or corduroy because they “sounded funny,” when I moved, and who spent 30 minutes adjusting my sock seams and futzing with the tag at the back of my shirt before I could leave the house . . . Heck, compared to me, Isaac is positively angelic.
Here’s hoping our early-intervention SI therapy keeps him that way.
Kristen on 09 Feb 2006 at 1:21 am #
Yeah, my daughter does funny stuff like that - and I tell everyone that she’s a reincarnated 65 year old. She actually took her trash all the way from her play room to the trash can (she’s 19 months…) and she likes to just sit in her rocking chair and read…
melissa on 09 Feb 2006 at 7:45 am #
hil.ar.i.ous!
Ranger Tom on 09 Feb 2006 at 9:12 am #
Write the book!
Rude Cactus on 09 Feb 2006 at 1:24 pm #
That’s hilarious! I love the characterization!
Christina_the_wench on 09 Feb 2006 at 1:28 pm #
You’re good, girl. You’re really good. Write more!
Anonymous on 10 Feb 2006 at 3:04 am #
Who’s kid is this? Are you sure there wasn’t a mix up at the hospital?
Love ya,
Bic
consise10 on 10 Feb 2006 at 11:16 am #
Does Seth have alot of material goods,like toys ? does he cry and want everything he he sees ? Does he get to interact with other children ?
Dawn on 10 Feb 2006 at 3:39 pm #
Em is a sensory seeking too. Hot water? Needs it hotter. CD player plays all night long…
We used to call her “LBA” for “Little Bad Ass” , sinc eit seemed like bad parenting to call her Little Bad Ass all the time.
They never grow out of SI, but it does improve - I promise- as they get better with reading their own cues.
Jaelithe on 10 Feb 2006 at 6:16 pm #
Consise10: Of course! We all know that medically diagnosed neurological disorders that cause children to overreact to certain kinds of stimuli are directly caused by kids having too many toys.
My memories of spending my early childhood in such poverty that one year my only Christmas present from my mother was a (beautiful) handmade rag doll must be entirely false, clearly! Otherwise why would the sound of something scratching on cloth have sounded as an unsettling to my young ears as an ambulance siren?
I must actually have been a spoiled rich kid with no friends. Brilliant! Thanks so much. Now I just have to track down my real, emotionally neglectful rich family, and figure out who altered my memories to make me think I’d been raised by a loving and attentive woman who worked her way through an evil divorce and crushing poverty to become a brilliant English professor instead.