When Maddie was in second grade, we moved out of our house for a year during a massive remodel. When we found our rental, I knew immediately we were in trouble: There is a 7-11 right on the corner and we would pass it every day. I knew to expect requests to stop there for junk food every single time. I’m not obsessive about food, but neither do I want my kids to live on candy and chips. So I made a rule: We could go to 7-11 once a week. We decided on Friday after school. Making a big deal about not going on other days would cancel the Friday plan. I was such a genius!
I was hilariously optimistic about my plan.
One of Maddie’s favorite foods on this earth is Cheetos. She is a very choosy eater, with a small repertoire of acceptable foods. Cheetos are among them.
So one day I had my kids and my mom in the car. I had just remarked to my mom, “Maddie’s NEVER in a bad mood!” That’s mostly true. She’s a chipper kid.
And then, what we now refer to as The Cheetos Incident: Maddie asked me to stop for some Cheetos. “No, not today,” I said.
“Please, Mom,” she said.
“I said not today. We can go on Friday.”
“Please! Please!”
“No, Maddie,” I said, starting to get a little agitated.
“Could we please get some Cheetos?” she repeated.
This went on for a minute, maybe, and I got increasingly perturbed. My voice got a little louder, and I got more and more animated. I was trying to drive and deal with this incessant asking.
“Maddie, I’m getting very frustrated.”
Finally I said, very firmly, “MADDIE! If you don’t stop asking, you will lose screen privileges for the rest of the day! STOP ASKING ME!”
And then it was quiet. I exhaled a breath of relief. I had finally put this issue to rest. I had finally gotten through to her.
And then: “So, can we get some Cheetos?”
“Are you KIDDING ME?” was all I could conjure up.
It was both hilarious and discouraging at the same time.
Years later I would understand what happened.
When she was eleven or so, Maddie had a similar exchange with my husband. She repeatedly asked him for something, and I watched agitation increase as she continued to press the issue. Finally, he blew up. It was a short final exchange, and then he left the room. I turned to Maddie and said, “Maddie, you have to recognize when someone’s getting upset.”
The revelatory response: “Well, how can you tell?”
I couldn’t believe it. It explained everything. She just couldn’t see it coming, even though it seemed awfully clear to me. It was a slow build to a final expression of frustration, and she just had no idea what was coming.
That was a huge moment for me. I finally understood what I hadn’t before: She just didn’t have the natural ability to read emotions AT ALL. Or to predict the likely outcome. It was something we’ve worked hard to teach her. So did her psychologist and her social skills teacher.
So imagine my gratification after a particular phone call last weekend.
I called home at a rather unfortunate moment. My husband was taking the kids to a Giants game. Luckily on the weekends, the whole ferry experience is much easier because the usual commuters aren’t filling up the parking lot. Still, the line grows early, and if you want a seat on the deck, you ought to get there early. I called right at the mad scramble to leave. I talked to each kid and then wanted to have a brief conversation with my husband.
“He’s worked up,” said Maddie.
Yes, he’s worked up! I’m sure he was. It was my sister who pointed out the significance of that simple remark. She remembered the “how can i tell?” story.
I can’t say she can always read people. I mean, who can? But she has come so far.
I’m so proud of her. And so hopeful that she will continue to develop that ability.
The Year of Living Hopefully 