Preschoolers and Choices

Dr. Marian Fritzemeier, Ed.D. ©2014

Author, Speaker, Educator

As a college professor, I chose what committees I happily wanted to serve on. If the college dictated which committees I must be on, I wouldn't have been happy. What about you? Do you serve well if you have choices or have choices made for you? Our preschoolers are no different. They too like to have control. Giving them the power to choose encourages autonomy (independence) while minimizing conflict.

Choices Can Begin Early

Choices can actually begin when babies become toddlers. Simply asking, "Do you want to wear the blue shirt or the green shirt today?" as you hold up the items provides a choice. A toddler can point which empowers them.

This or That?

Limiting choices helps preschoolers select. Many restaurant menus offer innumerable choices that sometimes overwhelm adults. Instead of asking your preschoolers, "What do you want?" ask, "Would you like chicken bites or a grilled cheese sandwich? Do you want milk or juice?" If the preschoolers are verbal, have the children order their own food.

More Choices Examples

Here are some more ways to give children choices. Instead of asking, "Do you want to take a nap?" (Why do parents ask this?) Inquire, "Do you want to nap with your teddy bear blanket or your doggie blanket?" When it's cold outside, don't ask, "Do you want to wear your jacket?" ask, "Do you want to put your shoes on first or your jacket?" After preschoolers make decisions based on two choices, gradually increase the number of choices. For example, "Do you want raisins, a granola bar, or yogurt for snack?"

 You'll discover that your preschoolers do better with choices just like we do.
Image from: www.stockpholio.com I Luv Pencils by Rex Boggs, 8413684208_4

Are You There?

Dr. Marian C. Fritzemeier, Ed.D.

Author, Speaker, Educator

"This will be good news," I hope, answering the long-awaited call. It's the nurse from the neurologist's office. "The doctor has reviewed all your records. He's referring you to Stanford Neurology," she reports.

Stanford. Five years ago. My mind flashes back automatically to grand mal seizures that started at, of all places, McDonalds in East Palo Alto. Aren't they supposed to serve Happy Meals there? Next, the terrifying ambulance ride to Stanford Hospital's Emergency Room. Between seizures I weakly plead, "Can you make them stop?"

The nurse interrupts my thoughts. "Ma'am,... Ma'am, are you there?"

"Yes..., I'm here," I hesitantly reply while silently questioning, "God, are You there?"

I'm physically on the phone, but  my mind's recalling my body seizing over and over again for three more hours on a narrow hospital bed shoved somewhere along the ER's neglected hallway. I softly implore, "Why can't they make them stop?" My husband shakes his head while gently holding my hand. Then my body forcefully thrashes again.

The nurse rattles off more information jolting me to the present. "Do you have any questions?" she finally concludes.

"No, ...No questions," I whisper.

I hit end on my cell phone. Did I really just say, "No questions?" Yeah, I've got questions, but not for the nurse. "God, are you serious? Stanford? I can't go back there. Do You remember how traumatic it was? "

Recently I prayed, "Should I continue pursuing medical options or accept the reality of my brain impairment?

You answer, "Stanford Epilepsy AND their Sleep Center?"

Returning to Stanford is the last place I'd choose for medical treatment. Maybe I should've made more specific requests, like, "Should I continue homeopathy treatments? What about acupuncture? Continue supplements? But Stanford?" Last time I was dismissed like a crazy woman voluntarily producing seizures.

I can't force that horrendous day from my thoughts. Then the radiology tech inquires, "Can you make the seizures stop long enough for a CT scan?"

Can I make them stop? For hours my voice begs anyone who vaguely looks associated with a hospital, "Please, please stop my seizures."  Shaking my head No, "I can't make them stop," I mutter.

Finally, a kind soul pushes medicine through my I.V. The seizures stop within seconds. My body is quiet and still, almost lifeless. As my body begins relaxing, calmness returns. Someone directs, "Your C.T. scan is normal. Sign these papers and you can go home."

A second nurse's voice draws me back during another phone call. "We've scheduled you to arrive at the Stanford Neurology & Epilepsy Center on October 15. You'll be staying with us for up to a week," she explains. "We'll be monitoring your brain 24/7 and videotaping you. Do you have any questions?"

Questions? How many can I list? The questions I asked God over five years ago are still unanswered. Sometimes I wonder, "Are you there, God?" But the question I asked Him a few months ago is now answered. Not in a way I expected nor desired. Today He answers in a clear, calm, reassuring voice. "I'm here. I'm sending you to Stanford."

P.S. Stay tuned to discover what happens at Stanford

Image from: Stock.XCHNG www.sxc.hu/ clouds-and-blue-sky 1387467-s. Accessed 4/18/2014.