Big Questions for a little brain

Lucas has recently started to ask the Big questions. And whereas some children start relatively small and ease into it, Lucas would not have been Lucas if he would follow such a pathway. Hís first Big question was this: "Zijn tomaten nou fruit of groente?" (Is a tomato a kind of fruit or a vegetable?).
Now, I can deal with difficult questions, but unfortunately his need for answers is not easily met. For example, concerning the extinction of dinosaurs, he's less than happy to find out that scientists do not have a definite answer as of yet. He keeps pressing me for information, as according to him, I must know more. "Nee mama, jij moet meer vertellen." "Jij weet het wél." (No mommy, you have to tell me more. You dó know). One of my solutions to this is to ask him what he thinks. So, let it be known that a moon fell on earth and killed all dinosaurs. Also, tomatoes are a fruit, and baby's are born through your belly button, which hurts, but only for a second. Just thought I'd share the answers to Lucas' Life Questions with you.

With this in mind, I remembered an old poem I once wrote. On occasion, Lucas is having monster nightmares, and recently he wondered why mommy and daddy get to sleep together, whereas he had to sleep all alone.

Monsters

Mam zegt dat monsters niet bestaan,
maar hoe weet zij dat nou?
Als ze mijn kamer binnenkomt, verdwijnen ze heel gauw.
Ze springen in de kasten,
en laden bovendien.
Ze laten niets meer van zich horen, laten zich niet zien.
Totdat ze me een kusje geeft,
en weer naar papa gaat,
dan komen ze tevoorschijn, en worden heel erg kwaad.
Nee, papa heeft maar geluk,
dat mama bij hem ligt.
Bij hem zijn kasten werk'lijk leeg en blijven laden dicht.

The presents or presence of a Theory of Mind

During my years as a Ph.D. student I have been reading (and writing) about Theory of Mind, aka the ability to attribute mental states (desires, beliefs and feelings) to oneself and others, an ability which seems to be lacking in many children with autism spectrum disorders. I'm not a huge fan of the Theory of Mind concept, as it is ill defined and ever expanding. In addition, many of the so called Theory of Mind tasks seem to hinge on language abilities as much as a Theory of Mind. And although there have been some successes to test Theory of Mind abilities in apes, Theory of Mind and language seem connected on many levels.

But this week I saw the rudimentary workings of the infamous Theory of Mind in my eldest son Lucas (3 yrs). He knows his birthday is coming up in about two months, and his little brother will have his a mere three days later. But way before that, my husband will turn.... well, that isn't really important for this story. So, I asked Lucas what he thought his dad would like to get as a present. He came up with.... a frog. Yes, a frog. No, no clue. My husband is not particularly interested in frogs, we don't keep any frogs or plan to do so in the near future, and Lucas has never displayed an avid interest in them either. So, to understand his trail of thought, I asked whether he could come up with another present. Some serious thinking happened, after which he was absolutely sure of the complete and utter bliss of his dad  if he got some bones. But not just any bones, T-rex bones. No question marks about the nature of that idea, since Lucas is very interested into that himself. But he didn't take another round of questioning as his final resolve was a bunch of flowers. Typical male instinct kicking in there, probably.

So how does this prove his developing Theory of Mind? It doesn't. But you know what, even I am unable to come up with a decent idea for my husband. So, instead we contemplated presents for his baby brother Kwint. And it didn't take Lucas long to come up with two ideas: penguins and cars. Spot on, and to his credit, Lucas does like penguins, but it's Kwint who's seriously obsessed with them. So, there you have it, Lucas has a Theory of Mind, and a diagnosis of autism is getting more unlikely every day. 

Kwint, on the other hand, is a different story. At a regular visit to the pediatrician (the American consultatiebureau), some eyebrows were raised on the subject of him not using the pronouns 'I' or 'me'. Never mind the pediatrician used a schedule for children aged 2, or the fact that Kwint is having to cope with the challenge of being raised bilingual, or even the fact that he does say words as 'mine' and doesn't meet any other criteria that would merit concerns for a possible developmental disorder. She offered us the opportunity to fill out a huge questionnaire which would be checked by specialists to see if there would be any reason for further checkups. We respectfully declined and went home only to find that the Dutch Van Wiechenschema (used at the Dutch consultatiebureau) considers it a skill for 2,5 year-olds. There still is time...

Excommunication

When you are expecting your first child, everything is exciting and extraordinary. You're totally exhilarated, don't know what to expect (except the obvious) and in case you're me, you tend to examine all kinds of tables with examples of age-related milestones. Now, when you're expecting your second born, things are a little different. Because, of course, you know what to expect, right? But that's just what you think. You are better off not expecting to know what to expect and you should definitely refrain from extrapolating from your previous experiences. Because the existence of 50% gene-overlap counts for exactly nothing. Zero that is.

For example, my first born exceeded my expectations concerning his expressive language development. At 19 months his vocabulary consisted of an exceptionally well pronounced 300-something words, some words more exclusive than others (can anybody explain why a child this age would need the word 'label'?). Now, I honestly did not expect my second born to be exactly the same. And it is not that he is at the other extreme with no words to express himself. But his pronunciation is extraordinary, exquisite and very exclusive (or in this case, I should say very INclusive), with most words falling into either one of three categories: auto, tuttel and behh.

Within the category 'auto':

ootoo (auto/car)

tatooh (tractor/tractor)

otoonn (open/open)

ootehh (oma/grandma)

tootehh (broodje/bread)

tooteh (vogel/bird)

The category 'tuttel' (cuddly blanket):

tuttehh (tuttel/cuddly blanket)

titteh (zitten/sit)

tietuh (vliegtuig, airplane)

ditteh (drinken/drink)

ditteh/dit (dicht/shut)

tietteh (fiets/bike)

tuiteh (buiten/outside)

tuttah (Lucas/Lucas) (who - by the way - does not appreciate being called a cuddly blanket)

thitheh (visje/fish)

tijteh (kijken/look)

And the category 'behh':

bah (bah/bwegh)

boo (boom/tree)

ba (bal/ball)

bui (buik/tummy)

The less exclusive, 'other' category:

nee (no), o-o!, kaaa! (klaar/done), koe (cow), jaaa! (lamp/lamp), kaa! (kaas/cheese), papa (daddy), mama (mommy, toettoet (sound of car), aai (hug), kie-ke-boe (peekaboo), haa (haar/hair), tnnn (teen/toe), neu (neus/nose), pepehh (piemel/private parts), wawa (hond/dog)

And last, and also least category 'English':

car, go, eaja (ear), choochoo, hi

Think I'm exaggerating? You'll just have to excuse me.

It's my way or the highway

Kwint:"Grrrrr."
Me: "O really, is that so?"
Kwint: "Dadadadaa."
Me: "Well whaddaya know"
Kwint: "Tata. Bwww."
Just a sample of the conversations I have with my youngest (11 months). But I suspect he's hiding the truth from me: that he can actually say real words. I know it, because of these little amused smiles he gives me when I try to coax the word mama out of him. "Mama! Say ma-ma! You can do it, ma-ma!" But instead, he winks, curls his nose and proudly pronounces me 'Bwwwww'. And when you think you've heard it all, then let me tell you what he does next. He turns his head ever so slightly, clacks his tongue and looks me in the eye expectantly. And what else can I do but clack back?

Although I can't keep up with Lucas' developing language, here are some samples:

"kijk mama, een doggie!"
"I love youuu"
"Dat is mine he?"
"Who's dit?"
"Ik wil jou een hug geven"
"Everybody SIT DOWN." (Now where would that come from?)

And of course, all the words from 'Happy birthday to you'. Although, really, there aren't that many different words in that song.

When we're on the subject of stubborn minds, I might as well talk about a conversation I had with Lucas, aka mister Negotiator. He still has these afternoon naps (of three hours!), and I recently started waking him before the three hours are up. But the little man does not like that. So following a careful wake-up procedure involving hugs, kisses, tickles and whatnot, I have to lure him out of bed.
"Maybe you want to watch a little television?"
Lucas: "Welllllll, no, I don't think so."
"Hmmm." Feverishly looking for alternative bait... "Some crackers?"
Lucas: "Wellllll, no. I don't think so." (a moment of silence). "But I want some cookies."

Mirror mirror...

At only two years of age (ok, technically he turns three in about two weeks), my son is like the enchanted mirror from Snow White. Unfortunately, he doesn't say what you want to hear, but uses your own words against you. Thus, today while he used a reflex hammer to hit his father on the head, he triumphantly stated: "Doesn't hurt!" I wonder what hurt his father more: the reflex hammer or his own words being thrown into his face? Of course my son was a doctor and was in the process of healing daddy. And the fact that that required the use of force was a necessary evil.  But my guess is that the words hurt more. Because my son is an absolute master in using your own words against you, which turns out to be lethal in combination with his ability to sense it when you're lying. But no worries, the lethal moments are nothing compared to the hilarious scenarios it also produces. For instance, just a second ago, he saw me writing on his dad's laptop. His first question was aimed to get his facts checked: "Is dat papa's joeter?" (Is that dad' s computer?") After confirming his suspicions, he swiftly knocked me out with the following statement: "MAG jij op papa's joeter?" (Are you allowed to go on dad's computer?) with emphasis on the word 'mag'. Because he is perfectly aware that he is not allowed to go on dad's computer. Ergo, nobody is allowed to do that. So, apparently, it's not only looking at your mirror image when you see your child. It's like listening to your mirror image as well. Sounds schizophrenic, doesn't it?

Gotta go now...my mirror image is calling me.

No biggie

This week's theme of 'no biggie' is brought to you by childhood diseases, cars, flying over to L.A. and tummies. Maybe I should explain myself.
1. Childhood diseases.
After almost three years without any serious childhood diseases, we've finally been struck by one. We found out that Lucas has a certain type of whooping cough. Since the likelihood of us all getting infected was big (and we are in fact ill, just don't know whether this is whooping cough), it was advised that we should all take antibiotics. So we're officially all on antibiotics. By the way, I love this 24-hour economy thing they've got going on. I actually called the advice nurse on Thursday evening (11 pm), who was nice enough to give us advice (probably in her job description, hence the name advice nurse). She also set us up with an appointment for the next morning. I could pick up the meds for Lucas straight after the appointment. Then I actually got a call from the doctor herself on SUNDAY with the results of the lab test and was able to pick up the meds for Kwint and ourselves on Sunday as well. No biggie.
2. Cars.
How come I always find myself in between cars like the one in the picture? And it's not that our car is tiny, it's just that those other cars are huge. No biggie.
3. Flying over to L.A.
Tomorrow I will just happen to catch a flight to L.A. for a couple of days for my ADOS workshop. Pop in and out of the airplane, pop in and out of the Hilton hotel I'll stay in. No biggie.
4. Tummies.
Lucas is having some trouble with his tummy. He is kind of potty trained, but does not want to do a number 2 on the toilet or in his diaper for that matter. He's keeping it all in, which results in huge bellies until he can no longer hold it. Poor little dude. We now started on prunes, since that helped him when he was still a baby. No biggie.

Featuring Lucas' developing English:
"Mommy's coming" (Yes, we're on to sentences now)

Featuring humoristic language by Lucas:
"Wat is dat nou voor onzin?" (This was said when Lucas was reading a book about a little man called onzin. Lucas is currently in a habit to ask 'wat is dat nou voor...' when he sees or hears anything. I guess it's something to do with the why phase, although he doesn't quite grasp the concept of why yet.)

Crouching tiger, hidden dragon

Remember my blog about crouching tiger? Meet hidden dragon. He is crouching tiger's big brother.

Featuring Lucas' talk (both Dutch and English):

In the aquarium:
Lucas: "Waar is papa?"
Ik: "Papa geeft Kwint even een schone luier, hij is even met Kwint naar de w.c."
Lucas: (met een hele hoge stem) "Een hele kleine w.c., he, voor Kwint?"


At home:
Ik: "Lucas, give me high five!"
Lucas: (gives me high five) "Ten! Dat is ten, he?"

Ik: "Lucas, je mag nog heel even spelen, daarna ga je naar bed."
Lucas: "Mag ik nog een heleboel spelen?"

Lucas: "Wil jij ook neus peuteren?"

USAccident

So, I forgot to mention that Kwint managed to hit his head against a shelf at daycare yesterday. Now, I would say that that is nothing out of the ordinary, and wouldn't think about it twice. Back home, we would maybe hear why our son had a throbbing red light on his forehead when we'd come to pick him up. But no, in the USA you get an actual accident report. With the time, an actual report of the accident and the way they handled the situation. Should I now sue them? I don't know the rules of this country yet, so I'm just asking.

So, I proudly present: Kwint's first accident report! May there be lots to follow.

A case of late onset separation anxiety

Today was the big day: Kwint's first daycare day. No more mommy, enter big bad world. He's been with me for the last 3 to 4 months, since we took him out of daycare in October after our house got sold, Bart moved to California, and I temporarily moved in with my parents. He hasn't seen too many strangers during these months, and I wasn't too sure how his happy demeanor would be affected when I wouldn't be there.

Sure thing, we stumbled into a major case of separation anxiety. Separation anxiety, for those of you unfamiliar with the concept, is a normal developmental stage in which a child becomes frightened when they enter an unfamliar place or meet unfamiliar people. Obviously, the anxiety is most notable when the child is separated from its parents, hence separation anxiety.
In our case, we're talking about roaming emotions such as feelings of being abandoned, feeling unloved and a general feeling of total loss, in need of reassurance. Yep, I felt it all. And Kwint? He had a lovely day at daycare, was showing everybody his cute smiles and came home a happy baby.
My diagnosis: late onset separation anxiety.

In the category Lucas-talk:

Lucas: "Mama, ik wil je borsten zien."
Ik: "Nou Lucas dat is niet zo netjes om te vragen."
Lucas: "Mama, mag ik je borsten zien?"

In de Ikea
Ik: "Kijk Lucas, daar staat jouw bed. Dat is precies dezelfde."
Lucas (in de auto op de terugweg van de Ikea): "Nou kan ik niet meer slapen thuis. Bed niet thuis."

Legal alien in the hair salon

I decided it was time for Lucas to get a haircut. Now, if you are a parent of a toddler, you know this is not something you undertake lightly. Children - especially toddlers - don't like it when people mess with their hair. They don't like it when somebody decides for them. They don't like it when they have to sit still and they certainly don't like to wait. Come to think of it, they don't like anything they didn't think up themselves. Generally speaking, the outcome of a toddler's haircut would be a funky hairdo with uneven strands of hair, a deranged toddler, a tired mom/dad, and a hair stylist seriously considering a new career path. So when I finally decided that whilst having a daughter is fun, dabbling in gender change is a precarious thing, it was Time with a capital T.

But toddler behavior aside, I have to do Lucas right. He is absolutely adorable when it comes to cutting his hair. He gets into the big chair (even when you see sheer terror on his face) and sits quite still (even when they come at him with a razor). In my favor, I have to say that I seriously prepped him by showing him what the hair stylists did with/to other children.

So far for the overall experience. Since the move to California meant leaving behind our familiar hair stylist (I seriously considered taking her with us), I had to find a new hair salon willing to take on toddlers. And I found just that around the corner. From the outside I had already gathered that it was an Indian hair salon, so I was not surprised when, upon entering the salon, I found Lucas and me to be the only non-Indians. Now, I have never been in the role of non-native, non-majority person. The feeling of being the only 'other' one is a bit daunting I must admit. You get these furtive looks and raised eyebrows, experience an intense feeling of not knowing the rules and feel you would like to behind something. In this case, this would be the big ficus in the middle of the shop (which, it has to be said, also looked like a non-native and was most certainly in dire need of a haircut too). But I stuck my ground, standing in the middle of the shop, with my very blonde toddler, not knowing when it was our turn. The outcome: Lucas was on his best behavior and can now be called the first blonde Indian boy.

[insert beautiful picture of heaps of black hair on the floor, with strands of Lucas' blonde hair on top. Unfortunately, I didn't take this picture, because I was afraid they would really think me crazy at that point.]

Sometimes you just feel...

...tired, hun?

He tries so hard to be a big boy with all the potty training, going to school, learning English, teaching his little brother just how to do stuff whilst at the same time teaching him to stay away from 'his' toys. And let's not forget the most important thing: trying to get his parents to do the things he wants them to do. In this last category, we've tried to tighten the reigns a bit. So now, instead of bossing us around, he asks kindly ("Ma-ma, wil jij mij hel-pen...", with lots of emphasis on every syllable). It's the little details that matter, right?

But there are other times when the role of being a big boy is a bit daunting. He will then declare himself a little baby. That is, when he decides he's not a girl. Gender identity supposedly develops somewhere between the ages of 1,5 and 2,5-3 (although at this time children still assume you can swap sides), but we're still waiting on that particluar coin to drop. I think it's mostly to do with wanting to be a girl. Cause girls get to like pink.

Crouching tiger, hidden talent

So, of course I know my children to be very bright. VERY bright :-) As any mother does. Lucas (2;9 yrs) finds letters and words very interesting, so we've started importing alphabet books from the Netherlands. Now, I thought I would hold off teaching letters to Kwint (9 months) until he could walk. But whaddaya know, the dude already reads! He devours whole books. First, he carefully opens the book with his little fingers. This is followed  by a close scrutiny of the pictures and words. After he approves of the subject of the book (of course not all books are equally interesting), he prudently tastes the sounds of the letters by licking the words on the first page. Then it's off to the next page. What an appetite for learning, eh!

In keeping with today's subject of reading, I can't hold this from y'all:
Lucas: (looking through the pages of the thesis his father wrote) "Dit is onzin, he mama?"

Pavlovian baby

Today I have witnessed what I believe to be a Pavlovian reaction in one of my children. Should I be worried? For those of you unfamiliar with the ideas of Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, he's the guy who invented 'the conditional reflex', which consists of the idea of conditioning as an automatic form of learning. Two things should be mentioned though:

1.
Common knowledge tells us that Pavlov signalled the occurence of food by ringing a bell and thus bringing about the conditional reflex of saliva production in a dog who believed dinnertime was nigh. However, it seems that Pavlov also used other instruments among which were metronomes, visual stimuli and electric shocks. Where was the ethical committee when that last one entered his mind, eh?
2.

Apparently he had an assistent (also Ivan) who worked with him. Ivan Tolochinov did not nearly get as much publicity as Pavlov did upon presenting the results. Does this sound familiar to any of my old junior research fellas?

But my writings are wandering from the actual subject of this blog, which is my youngest son of 9 months. He is always full of energy, playing and prancing about. However, I KNOW he gets tired around 2,5 hours after waking. Not that it really shows, because at this time he's still crawling about like a cute ant on acid (or just a regular ant for that matter, because ants always look peculiarly busy to me). So I take him to his bed, and as soon as I hit the music-button of the babyphone-type-apparatus, he starts yawning and hangs in my arms. Hello Pavlov!

To end this pseudo-scientific blog, I'll give you a quote from my all-time favorite comedian Eddie Izzard, who talked about the results of Pavlov's cat experiment. Of course the results of this study have never been published, since it did not result in significant effects (which is something for another blog):

Day 1:                 Rang bell, cat fucked off.
Day 2:                 Rang bell, cat went and answered door.
Day 3:                 Rang bell, cat said he had eaten earlier.
Day 4:                 Went to ring bell, but cat had stolen batteries.
Final day-day 5:   Went and rang bell with new batteries, but cat put his paw on bell so it only made a
                           thunk noise. Then cat rang his own bell. I ate food.