There's something about water being on his head that JR just hates. Showers make him nervous, and being dunked is traumatic. I'm sure some of it could come from the fact that he has slipped under water a couple of times and had that drowning sensation. I don't blame him for that.
Splash parks are fantastic, aren't they? Most of the time they're free (if you don't count your property taxes as the entrance fee), and it's really a glorified sprinkler park. I know I would have LOVED one as a kid!
Today I decided to take JR to the splash park without telling him beforehand. I knew it would be a gamble if he would like it, but I also knew that I have plans to take him with friends in two days. So, I had to acclimate him. After about 15 minutes, of running in, dipping his toes or his hands and running back to the towel, he was getting more and more wet and didn't worry as much. I can't say "didn't look back" or "didn't think twice," because I know my son by now. He thinks about it very much and what he's going to do. He lasted for about 25 minutes. I was so proud of him.
Is it bad to say that I'm proud of myself, too? I didn't push him to hard. I kept encouraging him and nudging him along, but I tried very hard not to force it. I didn't give him the option of going home -- I didn't give him an out -- but I didn't make him run in the water. I pointed out different children and how they were playing and what they were doing. I didn't say, "Oh, see, now that kid is doing it right." It was more like, "Oh, see that girl stuck her hand in the water, you could try that."
I'm learning that I need to not be afraid to introduce new things to JR. I'm worried about how he will react and that I will regret trying something new. I'm working on it, and I think I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to look for opportunities that will push him because I'm almost ready for him to push back.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Celebrate a Moment!
J.R. vacuumed his room today!!!!
Okay, it took a bit of coaxing and encouragement, but he did it. Good job, Bud!
Okay, it took a bit of coaxing and encouragement, but he did it. Good job, Bud!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Pain
A post by LeMira
Today my son reminded me of something. He's afraid of pain. He has a very high tolerance for pain because of his elongated stay in the NICU as a baby, but he's also very afraid of it. Telling him to "be brave" or "buckle up" makes him run for cover. When he is in pain, he gets irrational. Mainly because he's afraid of what the remedy might be.
Almost every kid I meet has a love for band-aids. Bandages provide a much-needed placebo affect for their "owies," and they tend to disappear quickly with little ones because of that. I remember one of the first times that I asked my son if he wanted a band-aid (hoping it would calm him down). He was okay with it until I had to pull it off. It was then that I realized his hypersensitivity to touch. Yes, I'd noticed it before, but it was then that it really hit me. Ever since that time, he dreads the band-aid. When he falls and cries, yes, it hurts, but he usually calms quickly when I tell him that he doesn't need a band-aid. If the opposite is true, he screams.
Today's hurtful moment was not bloody, thank goodness. I had just gotten the shampoo lathered into my hair when I heard him crying and wailing. He came in, pointed to his eye and told me that it was hurting. This is where the language barrier came in. I tried to get him to tell me if he'd scratched it, poked it, fallen down, or what. When I finally was able to get out of the shower, put on a robe, and sit and look at it, it was apparent that he had some eyelashes turned in and scratching his eye. Yeah, that hurts!
The problem came when I told him I wanted to help him. He would look at me and ask, "Is it going to hurt?" It took a lot of cajoling to let him know that if he'd let me take care of it, then it wouldn't hurt anymore. I'm happy to say that I didn't lose my temper like I've done so much in the past. It's so hard to stay in control when your child is out of control and not listening. The louder he gets, the louder I get.
I finally asked, "Would you rather let it hurt or let Mommy take care of it?" I still had to get him to clasp his hands so he wouldn't push mine away (a defensive reaction), and I had to hold his head so he wouldn't jerk away. It took a good five minutes for this process. In the meantime, I'm wiping dripping shampoo off my face so it doesn't sting my eyes!
When I was done, the pain was gone for him, and the eyelashes released. Thank heavens I didn't have to use the words "doctor," "medicine," or "band-aid." Who knows what would have happened then?
Today my son reminded me of something. He's afraid of pain. He has a very high tolerance for pain because of his elongated stay in the NICU as a baby, but he's also very afraid of it. Telling him to "be brave" or "buckle up" makes him run for cover. When he is in pain, he gets irrational. Mainly because he's afraid of what the remedy might be.
Today's hurtful moment was not bloody, thank goodness. I had just gotten the shampoo lathered into my hair when I heard him crying and wailing. He came in, pointed to his eye and told me that it was hurting. This is where the language barrier came in. I tried to get him to tell me if he'd scratched it, poked it, fallen down, or what. When I finally was able to get out of the shower, put on a robe, and sit and look at it, it was apparent that he had some eyelashes turned in and scratching his eye. Yeah, that hurts!
The problem came when I told him I wanted to help him. He would look at me and ask, "Is it going to hurt?" It took a lot of cajoling to let him know that if he'd let me take care of it, then it wouldn't hurt anymore. I'm happy to say that I didn't lose my temper like I've done so much in the past. It's so hard to stay in control when your child is out of control and not listening. The louder he gets, the louder I get.
I finally asked, "Would you rather let it hurt or let Mommy take care of it?" I still had to get him to clasp his hands so he wouldn't push mine away (a defensive reaction), and I had to hold his head so he wouldn't jerk away. It took a good five minutes for this process. In the meantime, I'm wiping dripping shampoo off my face so it doesn't sting my eyes!
When I was done, the pain was gone for him, and the eyelashes released. Thank heavens I didn't have to use the words "doctor," "medicine," or "band-aid." Who knows what would have happened then?
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Transition and Incentive
A post by LeMira
The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back. We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is. His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to," "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr." (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.
After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered: transition. Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.
The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it. His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us. One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.
Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week. When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress. Do I think it's because he has a retention problem? No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time). Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling). I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?
By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change. We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school. He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now. Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.
After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store. He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar. At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany. I could make him earn it. Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it.
I started a point system. Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions. He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad. At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns. Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points. I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off. When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his. In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points.
At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less. Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way. He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.
When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay. After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results. He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive. This is a good thing for something he wants. I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.
The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back. We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is. His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to," "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr." (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.
After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered: transition. Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.
The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it. His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us. One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.
Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week. When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress. Do I think it's because he has a retention problem? No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time). Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling). I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?
By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change. We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school. He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now. Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.
After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store. He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar. At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany. I could make him earn it. Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it.
I started a point system. Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions. He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad. At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns. Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points. I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off. When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his. In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points.
At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less. Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way. He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.
When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay. After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results. He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive. This is a good thing for something he wants. I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Vacuum Therapy and Trust (by LeMira)
I swear it seems that any time a person (usually another parent or friend) tells me that they just can't tell that J.R. has any sort of social delays or signs of PDD-NOS, he is sure to have not one, but several reaffirming PDD moments. It's like they happen to remind me that yes, it's real. Yes, I'm not just making up these stories.
When my son was young, it seemed like he loved the vacuum. He'd crawl around the house, find the vacuum, pull up and stand next to it, and just stare. He wasn't scared of it, it seemed, for so long. In fact, he seemed infatuated with it. It was a little odd, I admit, but cute, nonetheless. It was nice that I didn't have a screaming toddler when I vacuumed. Today, I realized that those days are gone. Honestly, I think they disappeared after our last vacuum broke and we threw it out. With that vacuum when J.R.'s comfort; this is the first vacuum change in his life.
The best thing I ever did was make a weekly chore list for J.R. that doesn't change. He's very good at doing his chores as long as it's routine. Recently, we had to change his Wednesday chore from vacuuming his room to sweeping the kitchen (you'll understand why as you keep reading, I hope). J.R. asks every week about this, "We don't have to vacuum, right?" He knows, but he wants and needs reassurance. Today I, being the wonderful mother I am, said, "Oh, why don't I vacuum the living room while you sweep the kitchen?" Sounds reasonable, right?
J.R. responded immediately by plugging his ears and hysterically trying to clamber to his room. Remember how wonderful of a mom I am? I grabbed him, trying to be a tease, and forced him into the living room. Seeing the sheer terror on his face and the tears brimming, I decided the force had to go and the understanding had to come. I calmly asked what, why, and how the vacuum terrified him. He couldn't really answer me definitively, although he tried.
I decided to try something. I let him hold the plug and touch the vacuum. I encouraged him to push the on/off switch; and touch all over the vacuum. I wanted him to get to know the vacuum. When I could see he was still completely terrified after plugging it in, I led him to his bedroom. While sitting on his bed, we practiced plugging his ears for three counts, then not plugging his ears for three counts. Then we took turns being the vacuum while the other person counted and plugged. When he felt comfortable enough, I went and vacuumed the living room while he plugged and counted. No screaming, running, slamming doors, or tears ensued. It was a small success. I then asked him to unplug the vacuum for me. He asked me to go with him, and so I did.
This is not the only irrational fear that my son has. This is only ONE of them. Dealing with these fears has been very difficult and yet educational for me. The biggest breakthrough for me was when I finally admitted that I didn't understand them, and then asked myself how could I understand. That's when I realized that I have fears that seem irrational to others. My irrational fears usually have to do with reptiles, amphibians, and the dark.
We seem to think that dealing with our fears head on and jumping in to them is the way to "get over them," or that doing these pranks (like me pulling my son into the living room) will help us; that it will be therapeutic. The truth is, I think it's actually more detrimental. How would I feel if someone stuck a snake around my neck, or even worse, a frog down my shirt? I'd probably scream! (Now, don't get any ideas.) And then, I would never trust that person near me again with anything moving. EVER.
How did my son feel today when I was carrying him to the vacuum? How did he feel when I turned it on, even just for three seconds, without his permission? I daresay he felt violated. I took the trust and stomped on it. That's why we did the "vacuum therapy." I had to regain his trust.
I find that I have to constantly rebuild trust with him. It pains me that I have to do this because it means that I keep breaking that trust. It's hard. I don't fully understand, and I never will. The one thing I want, though, is for my child to feel like he can always come back to me. I need to figure this one out.
How do you deal with your child's irrational fears?
When my son was young, it seemed like he loved the vacuum. He'd crawl around the house, find the vacuum, pull up and stand next to it, and just stare. He wasn't scared of it, it seemed, for so long. In fact, he seemed infatuated with it. It was a little odd, I admit, but cute, nonetheless. It was nice that I didn't have a screaming toddler when I vacuumed. Today, I realized that those days are gone. Honestly, I think they disappeared after our last vacuum broke and we threw it out. With that vacuum when J.R.'s comfort; this is the first vacuum change in his life.
The best thing I ever did was make a weekly chore list for J.R. that doesn't change. He's very good at doing his chores as long as it's routine. Recently, we had to change his Wednesday chore from vacuuming his room to sweeping the kitchen (you'll understand why as you keep reading, I hope). J.R. asks every week about this, "We don't have to vacuum, right?" He knows, but he wants and needs reassurance. Today I, being the wonderful mother I am, said, "Oh, why don't I vacuum the living room while you sweep the kitchen?" Sounds reasonable, right?
J.R. responded immediately by plugging his ears and hysterically trying to clamber to his room. Remember how wonderful of a mom I am? I grabbed him, trying to be a tease, and forced him into the living room. Seeing the sheer terror on his face and the tears brimming, I decided the force had to go and the understanding had to come. I calmly asked what, why, and how the vacuum terrified him. He couldn't really answer me definitively, although he tried.
I decided to try something. I let him hold the plug and touch the vacuum. I encouraged him to push the on/off switch; and touch all over the vacuum. I wanted him to get to know the vacuum. When I could see he was still completely terrified after plugging it in, I led him to his bedroom. While sitting on his bed, we practiced plugging his ears for three counts, then not plugging his ears for three counts. Then we took turns being the vacuum while the other person counted and plugged. When he felt comfortable enough, I went and vacuumed the living room while he plugged and counted. No screaming, running, slamming doors, or tears ensued. It was a small success. I then asked him to unplug the vacuum for me. He asked me to go with him, and so I did.
This is not the only irrational fear that my son has. This is only ONE of them. Dealing with these fears has been very difficult and yet educational for me. The biggest breakthrough for me was when I finally admitted that I didn't understand them, and then asked myself how could I understand. That's when I realized that I have fears that seem irrational to others. My irrational fears usually have to do with reptiles, amphibians, and the dark.
We seem to think that dealing with our fears head on and jumping in to them is the way to "get over them," or that doing these pranks (like me pulling my son into the living room) will help us; that it will be therapeutic. The truth is, I think it's actually more detrimental. How would I feel if someone stuck a snake around my neck, or even worse, a frog down my shirt? I'd probably scream! (Now, don't get any ideas.) And then, I would never trust that person near me again with anything moving. EVER.
How did my son feel today when I was carrying him to the vacuum? How did he feel when I turned it on, even just for three seconds, without his permission? I daresay he felt violated. I took the trust and stomped on it. That's why we did the "vacuum therapy." I had to regain his trust.
I find that I have to constantly rebuild trust with him. It pains me that I have to do this because it means that I keep breaking that trust. It's hard. I don't fully understand, and I never will. The one thing I want, though, is for my child to feel like he can always come back to me. I need to figure this one out.
How do you deal with your child's irrational fears?
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Today's Fear
Today's the day. Today my little guy sees the child psychologist for his multi-disciplinary assessment. Basically, J.R. is being tested for anything and everything (ADD, ADHD, Autism, etc.). I admit, I'm nervous, scared, anxious, and worried. What if the doctor doesn't see what I'm seeing? What if I forget to tell him something? What if the tests come back negative?
Okay, so I'm sure it's not going to be black or white/positive or negative, I mean, we're seeing a psychologist; but what if there aren't any "abnormalities" other than just the tentative diagnosis* (Cerebral Palsy) the neurologist gave us a month ago? A million questions are running circles in my head, and you can imagine that for someone who gets motion sickness like me, that it's quite sickening. Here are just a few that keep making laps around my brain:
If J.R.'s behaviors are normal, does that mean I'm just too impatient with him?
Is it just my fault?
Will he not get the help he needs in school?
Is there nothing I can do?
Sure, some of these sound selfish, but I don't mean them to be. I'm really worried that what I'm doing as a parent is HURTING my child, enabling him to continue these poor behaviors. Seriously, my biggest fear today is not that J.R. will throw a fit, get angry, or do nothing; my biggest fear is that the doctor will tell me that it was a waste of time and that there is nothing we can do to help my child.
*It's a tentative diagnosis because it will only be definite if we decide to give J.R. an MRI to determine if there's brain damage. We're still deciding what to do with that one.
Okay, so I'm sure it's not going to be black or white/positive or negative, I mean, we're seeing a psychologist; but what if there aren't any "abnormalities" other than just the tentative diagnosis* (Cerebral Palsy) the neurologist gave us a month ago? A million questions are running circles in my head, and you can imagine that for someone who gets motion sickness like me, that it's quite sickening. Here are just a few that keep making laps around my brain:
If J.R.'s behaviors are normal, does that mean I'm just too impatient with him?
Is it just my fault?
Will he not get the help he needs in school?
Is there nothing I can do?
Sure, some of these sound selfish, but I don't mean them to be. I'm really worried that what I'm doing as a parent is HURTING my child, enabling him to continue these poor behaviors. Seriously, my biggest fear today is not that J.R. will throw a fit, get angry, or do nothing; my biggest fear is that the doctor will tell me that it was a waste of time and that there is nothing we can do to help my child.
*It's a tentative diagnosis because it will only be definite if we decide to give J.R. an MRI to determine if there's brain damage. We're still deciding what to do with that one.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
School is Almost in Session
Last spring, as the end of school approached, I started to dread the summer. For a while, I counted down the days until school. Until today, I thought I was the only one in my household doing that.
The first week of July, I noticed that Jackson started getting very clingy. He watched everywhere I went, asked at least three times if I was going to "wait right there," and panicked if I left the room. This past Sunday as we were getting ready to go to church, he said to me, "Mom, you can't leave Primary [the children's class]." I worried and worried about him. Separation Anxiety at six years old? What was going on?
Yesterday I took him to his new school to meet his teacher. As we climbed into the car, in a timid voice, Jackson stated, "Mom we have 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11 days until school. I don't want to go to school." It hit me then. How could I have missed this? How could I think my child, the one who remembers dates like I remember how many cookies are left, had forgotten about school? His anxiety about the new school year has been going on since the last day of school in May. He has been worried all summer long.
Suddenly, I'm panicking inside, too. Last year Jackson attended Transitional Kindergarten (also known as Special Kindergarten) - basically Kindergarten at a slower pace. He excelled there. This year I chose to keep him in Kindergarten because of his social skills - or lack thereof. I debated and debated about where to send him to school, and I finally decided on a local charter school. Fewer students=smaller class sizes, right? I found out there are 30 students registered in his Kindergarten class. 30, really? In a Kindergarten class? Yeah, Panic Attack. The school is trying to recruit more students to hire another teacher or encourage some to go to the 3-day class. Jackson needs and is ready for the 5 day/all day Kindergarten.
Over the last few days, I've been fretting and fretting about how he will handle school. Will he be so lost that he hates it everyday? Will he be brave enough to ask what he doesn't know? Will he use the bathroom or have accidents (he has an irrational fear of new toilets)? How many tears will he cry? Will he learn to make friends, or will they shun him? What will he do without me?
There, I said it. I think he needs me. I can't let go. I want to let go, but can't. How do I do this? Jackson needs advanced warning. School registration was chaotic with parents and kids noisily chatting in small, crowded spaces; and so he didn't get a clear idea of the school. I have a few ideas.
The first week of July, I noticed that Jackson started getting very clingy. He watched everywhere I went, asked at least three times if I was going to "wait right there," and panicked if I left the room. This past Sunday as we were getting ready to go to church, he said to me, "Mom, you can't leave Primary [the children's class]." I worried and worried about him. Separation Anxiety at six years old? What was going on?
Yesterday I took him to his new school to meet his teacher. As we climbed into the car, in a timid voice, Jackson stated, "Mom we have 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11 days until school. I don't want to go to school." It hit me then. How could I have missed this? How could I think my child, the one who remembers dates like I remember how many cookies are left, had forgotten about school? His anxiety about the new school year has been going on since the last day of school in May. He has been worried all summer long.
Suddenly, I'm panicking inside, too. Last year Jackson attended Transitional Kindergarten (also known as Special Kindergarten) - basically Kindergarten at a slower pace. He excelled there. This year I chose to keep him in Kindergarten because of his social skills - or lack thereof. I debated and debated about where to send him to school, and I finally decided on a local charter school. Fewer students=smaller class sizes, right? I found out there are 30 students registered in his Kindergarten class. 30, really? In a Kindergarten class? Yeah, Panic Attack. The school is trying to recruit more students to hire another teacher or encourage some to go to the 3-day class. Jackson needs and is ready for the 5 day/all day Kindergarten.
Over the last few days, I've been fretting and fretting about how he will handle school. Will he be so lost that he hates it everyday? Will he be brave enough to ask what he doesn't know? Will he use the bathroom or have accidents (he has an irrational fear of new toilets)? How many tears will he cry? Will he learn to make friends, or will they shun him? What will he do without me?
There, I said it. I think he needs me. I can't let go. I want to let go, but can't. How do I do this? Jackson needs advanced warning. School registration was chaotic with parents and kids noisily chatting in small, crowded spaces; and so he didn't get a clear idea of the school. I have a few ideas.
- I'm going to call the school next week after it's started for the other grades and ask to take him around the school to see everything.
- Go to the bathroom and flush the toilet; let him practice going by himself.
- Teach him what he needs to do if he has to go to the bathroom, get a drink, etc.
- Remind him to take deep breaths when he's frustrated and perhaps teach him to squeeze the table or his feet if he is frustrated (usually he squeezes my hand hard to get the deep sensory stimulation that he needs).
- Tell him that I love him and that he will be okay, and that it will be fun!
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