“To Poke, or not to Poke….and Pokemon”

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            Summer ended, and we recently returned to school and the YMCA for before and after-care.  Evan clearly enjoys being back in his routine, but every once in a while, he just cannot help himself.

            Last week, I picked the boys up at the YMCA. It was “come clean” time: Evan has to show me his behavior report from school.  Most days, Evan gets a happy face.  Everything rides on this moment.  We usually end up at Applebees for kids’ night on Wednesday, and we go to McD’s on one other night.  But if Evan gets a sad or a straight face, we definitely go home. 

            (A few weeks ago, Evan lied to me and told me he got a happy face. He had been getting happy faces all week, so I didn’t stop to check, and it was McD’s night, so off we went.  Later, I discovered a sad face in his folder.   I told Evan he would have to bring home a happy face every day for a week to earn his ‘eating out’ privileges back for the following week. It just about killed him. )

            So, on this particular night, Evan approached me, shoulders slumped.  His face was pulled down in an exaggerated frown.  He gestured “sad face” and sighed, shaking his head, expelling a gust of disappointed breath. 

            “What happened?”  I signed, trying not to laugh because he looked so comical, but this was serious business. 

            Evan signed: "Stick – I picked it up – I poke –poke – poke - poked another student with it." (As he gestured, a look of glee momentarily crossed his face. “I know it’s wrong, Mommy, but I just – couldn't – help – it!! Arggghhhhhh!!!) 

            Suddenly a wave of sympathy came over me.  There was no place that Evan could actually just be himself anymore.  There are boys (and girls) who see a stick and desperately want to poke other people – just because it might be fun, just to see what would  happen.  There are others who see a stick, and leave it on the ground, ‘because you’re not supposed to do those things.’  Ben and I are leave-the-stick-on-the-ground kind of people.   Evan is definitely of the first ilk. 

            I should have been cross with Evan.  I should have put on my best scolding face and told him how wrong he was.  Truth be known, in that moment of insight about my youngest son, I was a little jealous.  The world is split into Poke-ers and Poke-ees, and Evan seemed to be on the better side of that equation.   I did finally muster a parental facade and told Evan, “You mustn't poke other children with sticks."

             Evan walked slowly to the car, bottom lip dragging, shoulders dramatically slumped.  He accepted his fate of eating at home.   It was the price of letting the Evanator out. 

            As we drove home, I spent time pondering the readings I did in college from Locke and Hobbes – two political philosophers who wrote about man in his ‘natural state.’  Without rules, (Hobbes) is man a wild thing, destined to bring on the destruction of self and society?  Or, (Locke) given the right information, will he make good decisions and act in the best interest of all? 

Will he poke, or put the stick down?

            The Evanator can abide by Mr. Locke on most days, but about once a week, he stands as proof of Mr. Hobbes philosophy.  Or, maybe – given the incentive of a meal out, is the Evanator living proof that Hobbes was right, and self-interest rules the day? I decided to leave that for further analysis on another day...

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The Power of Pokemon

            I never did understand the whole Pokemon craze.  For those of you that are not parents, the Pokemon virus infects your kids from about age 8 to perhaps 13.  (And maybe beyond?)

             There are cards with characters with a variety of multi-syllabic fictitious monikers that resemble Asian sounding names.  Rest assured, your child (even the ones that struggle with reading simple sight words or pronouncing the /th/ sound) will know, and be able to read and pronounce, all of these names. You will think your child has learned a second language.   

            Each character comes on a card with points and powers listed.  Pokemon is Kiddie-Crack.  Schools have banned them altogether. Trading leads to wars where suddenly one child wants his ‘Avalugg’ back, or claims someone stole his ‘Tyrantrum’. 

            The YMCA only allows kids to bring them on Friday, yet children still sneak them in their pockets and hover on the side of gymnasium, making clandestine trades trying to avoid the eyes of the counselors. 

            When Ben first got bit by the bug, I was aggravated. 

            “Ben, you can tell me all about your dinosaurs, but I don’t want to hear about Pokemon.  Dinosaur knowledge is real.  I don’t have room in my brain for endless facts about make-believe entities that live on trading cards.”

            This seemed like a good policy. Then, Evan got bit by the Pokemon virus, and I finally understand what the big deal is.  

            Many times, I stood by and watched as Evan was left on the social periphery.  I have watched other ‘normal’ children at the playground back away from my son with his strange noises and inability to hear or respond in conversation.  My heart has broken for him too many times to count as I watched Ben easily make new friends, and Evan end up on his own.   Times like this, I become Evan’s playmate, and he pretends he doesn't care – but I know he does.

            Now, Evan has Pokemon.  This is a language – spoken or not – that other kids understand.  When Evan shows someone else his cards, they are interested and willing to look past Evan’s inability to express himself in spoken word.   He understands the point system and can actively trade cards.   Ben and Evan bond over Pokemon at home, too.  They compare cards and look them up in the Pokemon Essential Handbook.  Ben is able to be Evan’s teacher in this, and really feel like the ‘big brother.’ 

            The Pokemon phenomenon is all about fitting in and competing.  It’s a whole social system among kids where their own differences and shortcomings fade into the background, and there is a social hierarchy and economy built on the features of the characters on the cards.  From a marketing standpoint, it’s pure genius.  As a parent of a child who doesn't have an easy time communicating and fitting in, I find myself grateful for Pokemon these days. 

            In a related development, Evan announced to me on Friday that he is in love.

 Evan signed “Girl – at school – my girlfriend – LOVE” and he fluttered his eyelashes and held his hands in a heart shape over his chest.

“Wow,” I signed.  “At school or the Y?”

“School.”

“What color is her hair?” I signed.

“Yellow.” 

“Is she in your class? Where does she sit?”

Evan counted on his fingers...Five seats away from me.

Then, he signed “LOVE” again.    

Here we go, I thought.  Evan has always been very popular with the girls.  This was the first one that he had expressed an interest in.  I wondered why…

As if reading my mind, Evan signed:

 She gave me a Pokemon card.  One-hundred-thirty points!

It seems like she played her cards right. J  

           

           

           

Sea Cucumbers

            Sea cucumbers are soft, slow moving, innocuous looking  creatures that slightly resemble the salad staple they are named after.  They lack the shark’s sharp teeth, the barracuda’s awesome speed, or the sea turtle’s built-in armor.  Nature didn't take everything away from the lowly sea cucumber, however. When threatened, they have the unique off-putting talent of being able to self mutilate and regurgitate their own internal organs at a predator. 

            Every living thing has a way to defend itself.  In the absence of anything glamorously ferocious, that self defense mechanism will be anything that pushes possible danger away.   Evan crosses a crowded restaurant sometimes sticking his tongue out and making faces at people, much to the shock of other patrons.  People try to communicate with him, and Evan will look at them and sign, “Bad,” with the extra drama of drawing a flat hand across his throat as if to say, “Death to you!”

              In China, and as we made our way across the world, Evan horrified strangers (and me!) on two continents by jumping at them, swinging his fist in the air toward them.  One proper English gentleman harrumphed, “Well, isn't he charming?”  At the time, I didn't think so.  I smiled weakly, and apologized. 

           

            These behaviors continue to be off-putting. Adults and other children who try to make first contact with Evan are rarely greeted with what would conventionally be seen as a polite interaction.   Evan might give a scowl and turn his nose up and away as if to say, “Puh-lease! You haven’t earned the right to confer with the Emperor!”  Or, he launches into his ‘you are bad and die,’ routine. 

            In our early days together, I would want the ground to swallow me up whole.  I saw these behaviors on surface-level as RUDE, RUDE, and RUDE.  I agonized about how to get him to stop.  I would sign to Evan, “Be nice.”  Evan was not the least bit moved. Most small children learn early on to develop pleasing behaviors to attract friends and earn the approval and affection of adults.   I marveled that Evan did not seem to care if people liked him. Not one iota. 

            Then, the light bulb went on.

            Evan did not want people to like him.  Not at first.  Especially not at first.  You see, it is better when you are a sea cucumber, or a 6 year old orphan who can’t communicate with others, to vehemently push others away.  When you don’t know if the people around you are friend or foe, it is best to tip the balance of power in your favor by shocking them a bit and making them wary of you.  Evan is very skilled at this. 

            I once read that people only do things that they perceive provide a ‘payoff’ for them.  I would like to report that after almost two years within the safety of our family and under my careful guidance as a parent; Evan now enters a room, smiles and offers an outstretched hand for a handshake.  However, truthfully, Evan’s behavior in this area hasn't changed all that much.  I have thus far failed to convince Evan that being courteous has its own returns.

             What has changed is my perception of his behavior.  Instead of being appalled and embarrassed, I watch him with some amusement and a heap of admiration. Evan exhibits more confidence and self satisfaction than most adults I know. Evan does not invest a lot of time and effort wanting to please everybody all the time.  He gives himself the upper-hand by being unpredictable.  Then, if he decides he likes you, Evan may grant you the privilege of getting to know the sweet, loving boy he can be.  It’s brilliant, actually. 

            A few nights ago, we walked into Applebees and a gentleman was dining alone at the table in front of the TV that Evan prefers.  Evan ran past the hostess, vigorously tapped the man on the arm, and with a scowl and a fully outstretched arm signed, “GO!”        

            I hurried behind Evan, grabbed his hand, and apologized, explaining, “We usually sit there, but we can sit at the next table.”

             To my surprise, the man offered, “I can move. I just sat down; it’s no big deal.”

             I declined his generous offer since I didn't want Evan thinking he had the power to make adults bow to his wishes and move.

             Then, yesterday at the mall, Evan wanted to sit on one of those coin operated cars that move back and forth in the kiddie section.  An older child was sitting on the vehicle already.  Evan marched up to him; chest and bottom lip stuck out, and made his demanding gesture, “MOVE!”   Before I could intervene, the other child – though older and larger – meekly stood up and vacated his spot. 

            It may seem counter-intuitive in a world where there is a high regard for ‘please and thank you,’ but the more I understand Evan, the less I struggle to change him.  Sure, I do try to teach him manners, and hopefully as he gets older he will develop an appreciation for them as socially beneficial.  In the meantime, Evan has a system that works for him.

            Once again, Evan is my teacher.  I watch him and wonder, “What if we all gave up our compulsive need to people-please?”  Oh, I know that we can’t all run around being rude, but I’m sure everyone can think of times we politely allowed someone to invade our space and later wished we hadn't.  Sometimes, in an effort to become uber- civilized, we quell the very instincts that have allowed our species to survive as long as it has.  As most of you know, Ben is the polar opposite - unfailingly sweet and polite.  Ben is entering (gasp) middle school next year.  I actually worry more about him than I do about Evan.  Ben could use a dose of Sea - Cucumber – Chutzpah. 

            For those of you who worry that Evan will have a warped sense of his own power if this all continues, nature has a way of evening things out.  Yesterday, when we arrived home from the mall, Evan had his comeuppance.  Evan had to use the restroom and couldn't (or wouldn't) wait for me to unlock the door. He stood on the stoop and proceeded to urinate off to the side into the grass.  As luck would have it, his relief was a bumblebee’s agitation.  Every living thing has a way to defend itself.  Evan got stung.  On the lip.  It could have been worse. 

 Much worse.   J