William and lying

William is officially at the age where he has begun telling lies to get out of being in trouble, lies to get out of telling us things, and lies just because he doesn't feel like talking. It is driving both his mom and I, because it is the best word, bonkers.

Of course a kid will lie to get out of trouble. I've never foreseen William being anymore noble than any kid his age. I know he won't take the blame for something he did that he knows will get him in trouble. This is something I would like to break him of. The punishment for lying is double what the punishment would be if he told the truth. I've yet to see how, if at all, this will work, as it may just lead him to find more ways to lie.

What is worse, and hurts much more in my opinion, is William's hesitancy to talk about what he has been doing with us. If he was at his grandma's, or at gymnastics, or even just at the dinner table talking about his day at daycare, usually we have to poke and prod to get more out of him than "Ummm I don't know". Usually we know he knows, especially if we ask him right after he was just doing something, and we can't figure out why. Perhaps he thinks that not saying anything will keep him from getting in trouble.

 I've always hoped that William and I would have the excellent relationship I've had with my parents, that I could go to them with anything and, no matter what it was, they would do all they could to help me rather than meet what I had said with anger (on most occasions). I've tried this approach with William, but he still seems reluctant to share his thoughts.

Perhaps I just need to give the kid time. Perhaps I am too naive to think that I will ever be his confidant. Perhaps I am too ignorant to know whether or not this is normal three year old behavior. Perhaps I've been too harsh with punishments for lying so now he fears talking to me about anything. Perhaps it is I who need to change.

Whatever it is, the kid's a real blabber mouth if you ever mention Iron Man in his presence.

Abengers Assemble!

William's First Video Game

I realize because of the gulfs of time between each update on this blog that William's progress may be impossible to gauge. I apologize for this, and I hope that anything left out can be extrapolated to the degree necessary for enjoyment of the blog. I also realize that I have promised to continue updates before, and have failed horribly at these deadlines due to my preference for never missing an update of my webcomic. Thus, I will not make that promise. This blog will update when I have something to say, but it will still be on Wednesdays.

William and I got our first Father-Son video game the other day, a game which I am sure he will look back with more fondness than I, a game by the title: Lego Star Wars III. A game that I will argue is more challenging than Dark Souls. A game which stresses the very limits of my abilities. A game that might be called Star Wars, but should really be called "William! The Red button! No! The Red one! UP! UP! No! Too far up!"

As a poor college student, I haven't been able to afford any of the Star Wars movies, so William's education rests almost solely on the movies we've been able to find at the local library, and the Clone Wars tv series. As of this moment that would be episode 1: The Phantom Menace, which raises the weird question: Why is William obsessed with Darth Vader? William loves Darth Vader, or as he calls him, Darth Bater. I don't think he has quite come to realize Darth Vader is a bad guy, anyway, William's Star Wars preferences has no bearing on the point of this post, which is William and my first foray into co-op gaming, a tradition which can only get better.

As it turns out, William, as a three year old, is actually quite good at moving his character. He picked up how to move and hit things pretty easily, with only a few pit falls and "Daddy! Help!"s, although he still becomes confused on how to move in an exact direction at times, up usually is up-left, left is usually left-down, etc, etc. William's main hang-up is his insatiable curiosity about doors and windows. He loves them, or, to be more specific, he loves to possibility of what could be on the opposite side. He will run at a window for five minutes, becoming more and more aggravated at the video game designer's gall to put something that looked like a door or window into a spot that is really just a wall. 

As he is furiously swinging a lightsaber at the most unbreakable door in the universe, I usually am the one left high and dry needing a character with the force to move something that is actually in the way of level progress. After the first few levels I have come to realize that story mode is not for William and I, and instead we should focus our efforts on free play. In free play I can be any character I wish, and don't need William to understand the mission in order to complete it.

William loves the game, and I love watching his face as droids fly at the wall as he learns the proper use of the 'b' button.

Parenting is hard

I'm gonna tell you guys a big secret: Parenting is hard.
It's hard dealing with a kid who won't listen when you tell him to do something.
It's hard knowing how to discipline and punish, especially as the child grows and the rules need to be updated.
It's hard trying to divide your time between work, school, free time and kid time.
It's hard integrating education in play.
It's hard developing a rewards system that works.
But most of all it's hard switching from one to the next, as some conglomeration of difficulty which increases daily as the rest of the world vies for attention.

William is an amazing kid. One day he'll be as sweet as can be. He'll read stories, he'll say please and thank you, and he'll sit still long enough to learn some letters. Other days he'll be the terror of the house, running, screaming "No!", and generally being a mess. I realize that in many ways this sounds like every other kid, but William will always be unique, special to me because he's the kid I care about all of these things. I care about why he is doing what he is, why he is acting the way he is. The way I deal with him will influence what he grows up into. He could grow up into a scientist, a teacher, a soldier, anything depending on what I play with him, how I discipline him, and how I teach him.

But most of all, I want him to grow up to be a guy I would want to hang out with. A guy I would call a good guy. For the time being I have to be a parent, not a friend, so that he can grow up into a guy I can call a good son, and a friend.

William and the Yogre

For christmas this past year William received perhaps the greatest gift ever, the Imaginext Ogre. (Which can be seen here.) Although his mom was less than ecstatic, I was instantly drawn to the toy ever since I saw it gazing at me from the upper shelves of Toys R Us. The sounds. The range of movement. The size. The man shaped hole in the feet. The Ogre is no ordinary kids toy, it is the epitome of knight crushing monsters.

Or so I thought.

It is here where I revel in the amazingness of children's minds. When William began to play with the Ogre, whom he has taken to calling "Yogre", he immediately set it to work repairing his cars, castles, and armor. It seems that his new toy tools fit perfectly in Yogre's green, meaty fists, which to William meant that he was an engineer, a mechanic, a carpenter, and a builder. He worked for the king, not against him. I found this an amazing feat, and felt worse for having assumed Yogre was some angry, unintelligent brute.