Not Ready for Prime Time

Last week, M. Edium's school put on a little program for Thanksgiving. M. Edium had been pouting about it for a few days, and we couldn't figure out why. Then, when I picked him up the day before and he had a meltdown about not getting to bring home a certain coloring page, he managed to sob something about one of his classmates being the captain, when he, M. Edium wanted to be the captain. I asked who he was in the play, and he said no one. I took this to mean that he wasn't participating.

So over dinner, we had a little talk. I asked about some of the other kids in the class, and who they were getting to be in the play. Other kids were Squanto or the king or the leader of the pilgrims, but other kids didn't have parts at all. And I realized that all the kids in the play were older and the kids who weren't are younger.

If there's anything M. Edium hates, it's being treated like a little kid. That's why I don't call him M. Small online any more, or address him as "little dude." Being excluded from a big-kid activity of any kind probably bothered him more than not being in the show. After I congratulated him for being big enough to throw away his own trash by himself without being asked, I offered to go with him so we could watch it together and then he would know what to do when it's his turn to be in it next year, when he's five.

That seemed to cheer him up. Afterward, I told my wife about our conversation, and how I'd figured out that when we left school, he was really upset about the program.

"And the coloring page," M. Edium added.

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Not Ready for Prime Time

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