Tap, Tap, Tapping

Rubik's Cube

Image via Wikipedia

Last week, Zippy walked into my room with his big-eyed, I-can’t-believe-I-just-did-that look on his face.  I automatically brace myself.

In the past, that look has proceeded his telling me that he just broke one of my expensive decorative baskets into a large pile of sticks.  Another time, he showed me a large “art” masterpiece on his wall drawn with Sharpie.  Still another time, he had cut a pile of papers into confetti-sized pieces.

If you don’t live with a child with ADHD, the above happenings may surprise you.  Unfortunately, these events are not surprising with Zachary.  And none of these events occurred as a result of rage or frustration.  These things happened on happy days during happy times of total impulsivity.  Zippy does these things without even realizing he’s doing them, and then he sorta “comes to” and is horrified at what he has done.  Yeah, fun stuff.

So last week when he walked in with his big-eyed look of self-horror, I again braced myself for the news.  In his hands were pieces . . . black plastic, maybe? . . . lots of pieces, some of which he was dropping. . . . what is that?  As he walked slowly towards me I could finally make them out — they were pieces of one of Paul’s Rubik’s cubes.  At first I thought maybe he had just popped it apart like we used to do when I was in school — you pop that thing apart, and then you can put it all back together however you want to; thus, “solving” the Rubik!  But, no, I noticed the pieces were actually broken.  This Rubik’s cube was history.  He poured the broken pieces into a pile on my desk.

“What happened?”  I asked.

“Tapping . . .” Zippy gently answered, hoping that explanation would suffice.

“Tapping!?” I wanted to know.  What the heck kind of tapping were you doing, kid?

“Tapping . . .,” he said again as he brought both of his hands together as though holding something. . . something large enough that you have to hold it with two hands.

“Tapping?”  I said again.  “With WHAT?”  I demanded.

“A baseball bat,” was his tiny, nearly whispered response.  He stood, awaiting my wrath.

“A baseball bat?”  I pondered.  “Sweetie, you weren’t tapping.”  All four of our larger-than-life eyes locked for several seconds while the realization sank in.  “Zach, you don’t tap with a baseball bat. . . . You weren’t tapping were you?”

“No,” he answered, quite disappointed in himself.

I motioned for him to go . . . just go.  And he left my room, defeated.  And I shook my head in disbelief as I dumped all those little broken pieces of the smashed Rubik’s cube into the trash.  I couldn’t decide if I was more appalled at Zachary for smashing something with a baseball bat in his room or at ME for somehow thinking it was a good idea to keep a baseball bat in Zachary’s room.

Hmmmm.  You live.  You learn.  The baseball bat needs a new home.

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8 responses to this post.

  1. Poor kid! Made me laugh though!

    Reply

  2. I actually think Zippy has some pretty good language skills…he just uses different adjectives than you would. Right? (I’m trying to spin this into a silver lining. ) LOVE your blog, Kelly! 🙂

    Reply

  3. Posted by Melissa Coco on July 2, 2011 at 8:47 AM

    oh me…
    Atleast it was just a rubik’s cube he was “Tapping”, right? Remind me to tell you about my “kids decide to use tools from the garage while mom works on vacation plans on the computer” story. Doug’s awesome (over the phone from Washington DC) response was — “Did anybody get hurt? ok then- this was a good way to learn this lesson. Furniture and wood floors are not as important as my kids:)” Maybe the rubik’s was a good place to learn not to “tap” with a baseball bat. Praying for the impulsivity to find more positive outlets:)

    Reply

  4. Posted by Kelsey G. on July 3, 2011 at 10:22 PM

    Baseball bats wouldn’t belong in my room. No telling what I would do. hehe

    Reply

  5. Posted by Frog Kyle on July 4, 2011 at 10:38 PM

    “Tapping” it in Zippy fashion is as logical an approach as I’ve heard to the Rubik’s cube in 35 years! So, what’s the problem?! 🙂

    Reply

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