It’s funny–sometimes I don’t post for a while. Then I look around and think, gee, how many things I have to post about, why haven’t I? Usually, the answer is something like “I was busy making things and talking about things.”
I’m not a natural blogger, I feel.
TMoTH often comes to be and we’re talking about something-or-other and he says, “You should blog that,” or “That should be blogged.” And I agree with him–but it would never have occurred to me in the first place. Not a natural blogger, me.
But I’m working on it.
I’ve almost finished with wee Luke’s quilt.
I only have left the edging to stitch to the back. I like the quilt–36″ square (my favorite baby-quilt size), and a nice pattern for this child: Friendship Star. His parents will understand why I chose it. I’ll post a photo of the front next week after I know they’ve received it.
No, they don’t get the cat, too.
Chris sent me this the other day. It’s a fairly interesting article about the technique and benefits to focusing on one task at a time, versus multitasking. It’s an interesting read when reading with educating small boy in mind, because it mentions things like doing what you love, in a way you can connect to, and building positive routines. These are things I try to keep in mind every day with B, because I try very consciously to engender positive connections to things that later will be cognitive issues, things to make decisions about. Will I do the dishes? Will I offer to be generous? Will I wash my hands after going to the bathroom? Sure, you laugh… but while it’s nice to know that most people wash their hands, not all do. I want to make sure that he does.
We were out walking today. He had a lot of people make comments to him, usually about his boots. He has ladybug wellingtons, and he wears them everywhere, and he has been receiving a lot of positive feedback lately. However, most of it was over his head–he literally does not hear the comments, as they are thrown over a shoulder or above his head by people who smile but do not hear any kind of reply. They’re already gone. One woman, out walking her Pomeranians, was different. She didn’t ask him how he was or comment on his boots (until much later). Her comments were focused and really interested in his interests, specifically his obvious (by his helmet) interest in space. He was immediately drawn into a conversation.
She wasn’t multitasking–throwing a comment to the Little Boy while talking on the phone or to a friend–she was really interested. And he was therefore really interested in her.
I was totally humbled. I swear, it made me feel that I should never do the dishes while trying to carry on a conversation with him. Ever. What might I be missing?