The only things that flourish in an armpit are hair and bacteria. Children need more space and fresher air. You can usually tell when a child has spent too much time in the armpit. Aside from the odor, they have that wide-eyed expression indicating extreme discomfort with life outside the armpit.
A typical conversation with an "armpit child" will go like this:
Hi there, Mr. Personality. (I have changed the child's name because to actually identify him would be inappropriate.) The child looks shocked as if I've just stomped on his foot.
How old are you now, Mr. P? His eyes dart back and forth. I can tell he's contemplating running.
Can you tell Ms. Angela how old you are? This, of course, is his mother. She's the one with the armpit and is never far away. She looks at Mr. P hopefully. Maybe he will suddenly demonstrate some signs of life. He looks at her hopefully. Maybe she will answer for him like she always does.
After several seconds, Mother says, "He's ten. He's just a little shy."
What a relief! I thought he didn't know how old he is.
Ten year old Mr. P crawls back into the armpit looking relieved. Mother has explained his diagnosis of Terminal Shyness and now, hopefully, everyone will be sympathetic enough to ignore him.
Shyness isn't a birth defect to be massaged and excused. It isn't crippling until your mother turns it into a reason for not having friends, never participating in church, sports, choir, etc, or for just simple rudeness. A child should be able to answer simple questions. He/she may not like the interaction but they should be able to do it. Social skills are like a muscle; the more you use them, the stronger they get.
Let's face it. Some mothers enjoy being the cave their kids can crawl into. It keeps their kids close and when they do venture out, it keeps them running back. To continuously attribute stunted social skills to shyness is to build the mild social fears of a toddler into the massive wall of self-centeredness that vexes our society today. A child who can't tell you how old he is becomes a teenager who can't look up from his electronic game, a college student who can't go out without headphones, an adult who doesn't know how to respond when you introduce yourself. Parents who use shyness as an excuse are failing to recognize the potential in the child and the task before them to help the child realize that potential.
Shyness is nothing more than the fear that you will say or do the wrong thing, a feeling of inadequacy. With my own children I've tried to get them to see these conversations from the other persons point of view. "What will they think if you don't speak to them?" "How will that make them feel?" "They are speaking to you because they like you; not grilling you because there's something wrong with you." "It makes them happy when you speak back to them." "They think you're so smart."
My first child had to be prevented from leaving with the meter reader. The two children that have followed wouldn't speak to anyone if I didn't insist on it. The nine year old will now respond when spoken to and I continue to remind him when we go into social situations to consider the feelings of others instead of his own shyness. He'd be in my armpit now if he could. The third, a two year old, has a form of violent shyness. He used to try to hit anyone who attempted to draw him out. I put a stop to that but now he hits himself. Go figure. With time and consistency on my part that will change too.
Free up those armpits, ladies!
A typical conversation with an "armpit child" will go like this:
Hi there, Mr. Personality. (I have changed the child's name because to actually identify him would be inappropriate.) The child looks shocked as if I've just stomped on his foot.
How old are you now, Mr. P? His eyes dart back and forth. I can tell he's contemplating running.
Can you tell Ms. Angela how old you are? This, of course, is his mother. She's the one with the armpit and is never far away. She looks at Mr. P hopefully. Maybe he will suddenly demonstrate some signs of life. He looks at her hopefully. Maybe she will answer for him like she always does.
After several seconds, Mother says, "He's ten. He's just a little shy."
What a relief! I thought he didn't know how old he is.
Ten year old Mr. P crawls back into the armpit looking relieved. Mother has explained his diagnosis of Terminal Shyness and now, hopefully, everyone will be sympathetic enough to ignore him.
Shyness isn't a birth defect to be massaged and excused. It isn't crippling until your mother turns it into a reason for not having friends, never participating in church, sports, choir, etc, or for just simple rudeness. A child should be able to answer simple questions. He/she may not like the interaction but they should be able to do it. Social skills are like a muscle; the more you use them, the stronger they get.
Let's face it. Some mothers enjoy being the cave their kids can crawl into. It keeps their kids close and when they do venture out, it keeps them running back. To continuously attribute stunted social skills to shyness is to build the mild social fears of a toddler into the massive wall of self-centeredness that vexes our society today. A child who can't tell you how old he is becomes a teenager who can't look up from his electronic game, a college student who can't go out without headphones, an adult who doesn't know how to respond when you introduce yourself. Parents who use shyness as an excuse are failing to recognize the potential in the child and the task before them to help the child realize that potential.
Shyness is nothing more than the fear that you will say or do the wrong thing, a feeling of inadequacy. With my own children I've tried to get them to see these conversations from the other persons point of view. "What will they think if you don't speak to them?" "How will that make them feel?" "They are speaking to you because they like you; not grilling you because there's something wrong with you." "It makes them happy when you speak back to them." "They think you're so smart."
My first child had to be prevented from leaving with the meter reader. The two children that have followed wouldn't speak to anyone if I didn't insist on it. The nine year old will now respond when spoken to and I continue to remind him when we go into social situations to consider the feelings of others instead of his own shyness. He'd be in my armpit now if he could. The third, a two year old, has a form of violent shyness. He used to try to hit anyone who attempted to draw him out. I put a stop to that but now he hits himself. Go figure. With time and consistency on my part that will change too.
Free up those armpits, ladies!
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