Everyday is Mother's Day

Every parent has likely said something along the lines of, "However old you may get, you will always be my baby!" As kids, they likely look up to us parents, perhaps we are even their heroes.  However, I am wont to think that before too long, the scales drop.  But, maybe not....

Recently one of our engineer friends showed up on a list of "10 powerful women in the world of technology." Malini was perusing the list and Abhi happened to be sitting nearby.  She thought the mention was pretty cool and worth sharing. So she called him over and showed him the title of the article and in a bid to pique his interest some more, she said, "Abhi, there is somebody on this list that you know."  Now, Malini quit her software engineering job pretty much the day Abhi was born and he has only heard about her having worked in the tech industry. But, pat came his query, "You, amma?"

To him, amma was clearly still Superwoman. 

Mr. Abhi Goes to School

Despite all their similarities, Arjun and Abhi have very distinct personalities. Arjun is the earnest one, Abhi is the interesting one. Arjun is driven more internally while Abhi is the reactive one. Many of his likes and dislikes seem to suspiciously mirror those of Arjun's. Going to school was no different. Arjun pretty much took to school (both Scripps Montessori and PV Elementary) right away, making friends and being totally involved and dedicated to his school work and activities. He is a bit of a perfectionist (total mystery to us of course) and gets very upset if you try to suggest that he is not doing something the correct way (once again, a big mystery).

Abhi could not wait to start school. He wanted to be just like his "eatta" and given his multiple visits to Arjun's class in Scripps, he was raring to go. The first week was fine and then the glow seemed to vanish. School was not just fun and games. There were lessons to be done and stuff to be learned. You had to repeat the same lesson and even worse, you had to remember what you had been taught. He adopted the tears strategy - as soon as his teacher (Ms Ada) asked him to do a lesson, he would burst into tears. She soon cut back from 3 lessons a day to just one. We would elicit promises from him every morning that he would not cry that day. Ms Ada was rather puzzled because he seemed to pick up stuff pretty quickly. Given his exposure to Arjun's learning and Malini's efforts, he was clearly ahead of where Arjun was when he started.

When I asked him why he didn't want to do the lessons, Abhi said that it was because, "I know I can't do it." Maybe our actions have something to do with this: We would often get upset when Arjun would make mistakes or be slow in doing some of his home work. So this may be Abhi's way of avoiding all that unpleasantness. Of course given that this is Abhi, I wouldn't put it past him to have computed that this is the easier way to get out of doing work!

Through all this, Abhi's natural instincts continued to shine through. Once after a bout of crying he told Ms Ada, "Don't tell my parents I cried. Its our secret." Another time, he asks her,
"What time will my amma pick me up?"
Ada: "11.30."
Abhi: "When will it be 11.30?"
Ada explained how the two clock hands would be positioned at 11.30. Then Abhi asks her:
"Can you please get me a small clock so that I can keep it with me? I want to know when it is 11.30."

Thankfully, things are looking up a bit. He has been better the last few days, going so far as to actually ask for lessons to do. He has worked his way up to 4 lessons a day and seems to enjoy (or at least tolerate) school much more. He would still like to be done though: Yesterday he wanted to know why he could not graduate like Arjun had earlier this year and then supplied the answer on his own: "Because I am not a big boy."
What gives us more cause for hope though is what he did in class yesterday: Out of the blue, he told Ms Ada that he wanted to sing a song for her and then proceeded to sing a made-up song which he refused to divulge to us. Starting to see their teachers as equals to their parents is a big milestone in a kids schooling life. Has Abhi reached that point? Maybe, but we are keeping our fingers crossed.

"What is this red thing, acha?"

I was working on the New Zealand photos on my computer and Abhi was playing on the carpet behind me. He wasn't doing anything particular - just messing about. At such times he tends to keep up a constant patter which I have learnt to respond without really paying attention. I could hear that he was asking some question, but didn't turn around. The question was repeated, "What is this red thing, acha?" I ignored it again, hoping that he would either lose interest or figure it out himself. He asked again and something in his voice made me turn and look. Sure enough, there was some red stuff all over his fingers and with a start I realized that he had been playing with my photo trimmer. The trimmer has spare blades which I had taped down to prevent accidents, but our man had peeled them off and cut his finger in the process. But he didn't seem to be in any pain, just mildly concerned about the "red thing."

I, of course, was a tad bit more perturbed and jumped out of my chair and started making a fuss, calling out to Malini in between. In my defense, his fingers looked quite bloody and it was hard to tell what the injury was. By now he had cottoned on to the fact that something bad had happened to him and that he should be upset and was bawling away. I lead him to the sink and rinsed his fingers - thankfully it was just one cut - it was a bit deep, which explained all the blood. He continued to sob through all this until Malini reminded him that his finger was not actually hurting. Once the band-aid was on, he calmed down immediately, although he made a show of feeling sorry for himself.

Just another reminder of how kids will take their cue about how to react (even for something that happened to them) from parents and other adults. Of course, adults are prone to this as well...

Goal Oriented Parenting

I was at the Golden Canyon trail head (in the Death Valley NP) waiting for some of the group to finish their hike. I was struggling (as is often our wont) to get some food into Arjun (who was a bit under the weather) and Changu asked if I used "goal-oriented" approaches. Which is a fancy name for the "If you eat this, then you can eat that" approach, where "this" is presumably something you want the kid to have while "that" is something the kid would rather have. Changu, of course immediately realized the problem - Arjun doesn't really have a "that." Even so, I replied that we try to avoid doing that. The one parenting class I attended stressed how providing additional food as an incentive to consuming food could lead to problems. Another point (which still makes a lot of sense) is to never link two things that are not really related. This food thing itself is a good example: if the kid is not eating because they are not hungry or interested in eating, providing access to some other food is not a great incentive. Another common example is "If you don't finish your lunch, we can't go to the park in the evening." (All my examples tend to be eating related for obvious reasons.) The eating has nothing to do with going to the park. Child psychologists tell us that such linkage will only cause the kid to think of the desired behavior (eating, doing homework, cleaning room, whatever) as a punishment. What you would like is for them to want to do the activity. A better approach is to show how the downside derives from the negative activity, as in: "If you don't finish your homework in time, then we won't have time for a book."

Having said all this, I must say that we are blatant abusers of this quasi-rule. Arjun and Abhi discovered the 'existence' of Santa a week ago and I arrived home one day to a breathless Abhi telling me that Santa was going to bring him gifts that night (he was convinced that night was Christmas). Of course he also had heard about the tooth fairy and included that mythical gift-giver in the same sentence until I was thoroughly confused as well. This is especially moot since he is quite far from loosing his milk teeth and getting visits from the tooth fairy. As far as Santa is concerned, they also know that they are supposed to be "good" to get gifts and we have been using that threat ("Santa is not going to bring you gifts", etc) as a way to get some desired behavior. I cringe inwardly whenever I make these threats, but hey, sometimes you just want them to listen!

We got another "incentive" to dangle this weekend - Antibiotics! Both Arjun and Abhi started on Amoxycillin (dispensed as a pink suspension with bubble gum flavor) on Saturday and they both absolutely love the stuff. They get a tsp of the stuff twice a day and the way they lick the spoon clean you would think it is some kind of nectar or that they are starving. We have of course promptly resorted to "Well, if you want the 'pink medicine' you better eat your breakfast", etc. As babies both of them hated any kind of medicine and we had to pretty much hold their noses to prevent them from spitting it out. This was especially true for Arjun, but it all changed abruptly one winter day in Dec 2005. He was almost 2 years old and he had been prescribed antibiotics (the same 'pink medicine') for the very first time, for an ear infection. The first couple of doses were the same struggle - somebody restraining his arms and legs, somebody else holding his nose, a third person to pour the stuff into his mouth, with all of us covered in pink, sticky stuff. We wondered how we were going do this for 9 more days. He had been miserable for almost a week before he started on the antibiotics. However, after just after two doses he was much better and he just started loving the stuff. He realized that medicines could actually make him feel better and after that day we have never had to struggle with giving him medication. This is, btw, a truism of parenting - just when you are thinking there is no hope, things suddenly change for the better.

Speaking of Santa and other imaginary magical things, kids are not alone in believing in them. How often do we as adults console ourselves with the prospect of irrational promises coming true? A couplet by the Urdu poet, Mirza Ghalib, goes as follows:
"Humko maloom hai jannat ki haqeeqat kya hai, phir bhi,
Dil ko khush rakhne ko, Ghalib, ye khayal acha hai."
Loosely translated: "I know what the reality of heaven is, but even so, it is a great concept for giving you hope."

Chasing after sunk cost

One trait that distinguishes humans from animals is that humans care about 'sunk cost' while animals don't. There is actually serious research that underscores this: See paper. Basically, we humans tend to keep investing in lost causes simply because we have already invested in them. This is clearly self perpetuating - the more you invest, the more the unwillingness to pull away. Animals don't seem to exhibit this behavior - a predator chasing its prey will pull up and stop if the prey starts pulling away and not simply keep going because it has already chased the prey for a while. Marketers love to study such compulsions on the part of humans because it gives them insight into what kind of campaigns will succeed. I am wondering if this insight could apply to a number of our everyday actions.

Take the obsession with not wanting to "waste food." This is often used to justify shoving down that last morsel, well past the point of over eating. The sunk cost in the food is not going to come back whether the food is consumed or not. That starving child in Africa is not going to be satiated because you overate. Will consuming the food in a manner unlikely to yield the intended benefits really constitute "not wasting?" Or are we simply investing more resources (weight gain, bloating, indigestion, or whatever else one gets from over-eating) to justify the already sunk cost (of the prepared food)? Perhaps a more rational response would be to monitor what actually gets consumed and then prepare the next meal accordingly.

Another instance that may be particular to parenting goes as follows: you take the effort to plan an outing (park, zoo, beach, where ever) that you think will appeal to the kids. You get there and they are not that interested in the available activities. How do you respond? Many parents get all worked up and angrily announce that if they don't start cooperating and having some fun, then darn it, this is the "last time we'll ever take you anywhere!" Of course, it is the frustration talking and of course, part of it is for the effect - maybe this threat (even if clearly unenforceable) will get them to realize that all this effort was for them to have fun. I contend that this is just another case of taking on additional cost (loss of composure on your part, kids feeling bad about being yelled at, etc) in order to justify the sunk cost of planning and executing the outing. Better solution? Enquire calmly why they are not enjoying the outing. Suggest that they should have told you before you headed out. Remember this for the next time. Also, remember that kids don't always have to make sense - can we adults explain all our actions/reactions at all times? (ok, this last point doesn't have much to do with the main theme of this blog, but it kinda felt germane.)

My yoga master is often commenting on how humans have made their bodies slaves to their minds. I believe this is the fundamental cause for the above described irrational behavior. The positive thing is that we can use the power of that same mind to realize this and not repeat such actions. Can we really be totally rational? Of course not - that would make us robots and not very interesting. But watch out for the cases of chasing after sunk cost in your day to day life - I am willing to wager that you will find them to be more common than you might have expected.

No Escape

Every parent has likely experienced this - making a throwaway statement to their kid only to to have it come back and get you in the posterior (or "bumbalati" as Arjun & Abhi call it). This is just a mild example of that - it can get much worse.
We started Abhi in a day care last week and he hates it. Mostly he hates the idea of being left alone - he was all gung-ho about the prospect of day care until he realized that his big brother would not be there with him. Then he started campaigning for me to stay in day care with him. In a bid to pacify him, I told him, "Sure, I'll come" and then (very cleverly, I thought) added, "But I have to first ask my boss. If he says ok, then I'll come to your day care." He calmed down and I patted myself on back and left for work. As I reached work, I got a phone call and a very tearful Abhi asks, "What did your boss say?" Hmm... hadn't expected this, but I quickly replied that I had not asked my boss yet. Then realizing that this question would not go away, I added,
"But I don't think I will be able to ask him today."
"Why acha?" Ah, the dreaded "why?"
"Because he is not feeling well."
"Why is he not feeling well?"
"He has a cold."
"He has a cold? How did he get a cold?"
"Um..ah...he went out in the rain."
"He went out in the rain? Why did he go out in the rain?"
"Uh...he had go somewhere." The strain of the conversation was getting to me.
"He had to go somewhere? Did he run?"
"Yes, he ran very fast."
"He ran very fast, acha? Why did he run very fast?"
I had to make this stop.
"Ok Abhi, acha has to go now. bye." And quickly hung up.