serious talk: my john

my little shaded studs

we've been on a wild ride with my john the past year or so - he's an amazingly sweet, remarkable, mannerly, kind little boy, but there's a switch inside him that flips when he gets frustrated or overwhelmed, and he just can't process his big feelings. the result is some really disruptive behavior that's been a challenge for him to control.

there've been good weeks and bad weeks, and after a particularly tough spell recently we decided to seek professional help. john had his first therapy session today, and he loved it and they seem to think we'll be able to help him find some coping mechanisms to learn how to control his emotional outbursts and process big feelings in a more productive way. i'm excited for him, that he will be a little more prepared by the time we start kindergarten in the fall.

in the meantime, his little brain is unbelievable. 

on the way to therapy today, i asked him how he met his "different grandpas" - a pair of imaginary characters that are a vivid part of his imaginary play. he told me the story. 

apparently while he was in "japans" trying to protect everyone from a meteorite, it turned out the meteorite was actually two guys landing from outer space who asked to be john's grandpas. he said yes. they both started out good but then one got kidnapped by a bad guy who shot a bad arrow at him and then dropped him off on mars while the bad guy stole a whole bunch of supplies. now there's a bad different grandpa and a good different grandpa.

he told me all of this with such a straight face, and so much inflection and detail. what a vivid imagination he has.

but sometimes, mommy gets a little too fanciful for john. a couple of nights ago, as i snuggled him before bed, he said, "mommy, the stories we tell at bed time don't make any sense."

curious, i asked, "why do you say that, john?"

he responded, "talking animals? me, too fast or too high? dinosaurs that dance and sing? those things aren't real."

"but it's nice to use our imaginations, isn't it? to be creative?" i suggested.

"mommy, tonight i want you to tell me a story that's ... serious."

i suppose i was put in my place. so i told a story of dinosaurs who did not speak (and certainly did not dance or sing) but instead ate plants in the swamp. it was pretty boring, but he was pleased.

the next night we were back to different grandpas and talking dogs, though, so i guess i can't complain.