Independence Day

Some children are independent. Give them a task to do, like getting dressed, and they’ll insist on doing it by themselves. Try to help them, and they’ll scream in agony at the assistance, no matter how hopelessly they’ve entangled their neck in the shirt’s armhole.

Abbie is not independent. Give her a task to do, like getting dressed, and she’ll ignore me in hopes that I’ll forget. Try to help her, and she’ll work with me, putting her arms through the appropriate armholes, trying to force me out of her room in hopes that she can go back to reading or living her Ferris wheel fantasies vicariously through her Little People.

This lack of independence should be obvious to me from her potty training difficulties. She’d rather endure a diaper change than take the initiative to use the potty when needed. Instead of telling me she needs to go potty, she prefers sitting in a soaking wet diaper. She even prefers sitting in a poopy diaper until I notice rather than let me know; a sore bottom is a small price to pay to keep her dependent persona.

I’m trying to instill a sense of independence in Abbie. I’m mostly failing, but I’m trying. The secret is to properly motivate her, to give her a reward for completing her task. To motivate her through the getting dressed chore, I’m refusing to give her breakfast until she picks out an outfit. My goal is to get her used to picking out her clothes first thing in the morning, and maybe one day opening her door to find her fully dressed.

Currently she’s willing to wait for breakfast. I’ve found that if I push her for about a half-hour, nagging her every time I pass her door, she’ll eventually run into the kitchen shirt in hand about the time the boys finish their breakfast. Obviously, she feels my nagging her qualifies as sufficient to appear dependent on my help.