Frustration

Four toys, but only two hands.

I watch Greyson struggle to pick up his four shapes - triangle, circle, square, octagon. He gets three, but the fourth is tricky. He chases it around with his hand, already full of another shape. Squatting on the floor, squawking in frustration.

After a minute he gets angry, but he keeps trying. I have tried reason, encouragement, problem-solving.

"Maybe you could take two trips, Greyson"

or

"You can do it, keep trying, don't get mad!"

More tears, it hurts to watch sometimes. I see myself in him now, his need to get it right, his frustration at not figuring it out. I don't want that for him.

I try showing him how to load the pieces into his shirt and carry them all that way.

No luck, that's not what he wants!

"You're growing bigger and stronger every day, you'll be able to pick them all up soon!"

Still more tears. I videotape him, feeling guilty all the while. A second after I turn off the camera, he picks up all four pieces. He walks towards me, snot and tears flowing, still screaming.

I pick him up, rub his back, tell him I'm proud.

"You did it!"

Still crying. Poor guy can't enjoy his moment of pride. We walk around the house, he calms down. Puts his head on my shoulder, still clutching his four toys in his two hands.