The Secret Language and Logic of Bedtime Math

This is Daddy, with a little bit more on the frustrations of Nate-math.  Remember when we went to the emergency room because we nicked Nate's finger while clipping his nails?  Well, after that, to get him to calm down for the nail clipping, we developed a game.  Each nail was assigned a number from 1 to 20.  We picked which two or three nails we were going to cut each night.  We rolled a die, and Nate added up the numbers until we got to the number corresponding to the nail we were cutting.  If we rolled past it (e.g., we were cutting the middle toe on his left foot – number 18 – and already rolled to 16, then rolled a 3, bringing us to 19), I had to make the game-show “wrong” buzzer sound, which Nate and Jonah both think is the funniest sound in the world.  When we landed on the right number, Nate would get so overexcited that he would forget which nail we were cutting and would frantically start jabbing hands and feet at me until we got the right one. 

Then a few nights ago, we got to the nail-cutting part of the night, and Nate just started bawling, I mean really sobbing.  Why?  Because it was the last night of the dice.  I tried to let him know that if he didn’t want to use the dice, we didn’t have to, and if he wanted to use the dice, we could.  Apparently, I was missing the point – it wasn’t up to either of us.  In the natural order of things – the logic of which is both obvious and fixed to Nate; he really can recall these rules months later – it was just the end of the dice, and there was nothing anybody could do about it, and it made him sad (he did love the dice).  Such a cruel world that we live in, where a boy only gets a few short weeks with his dice. 

So then he decides that the new nail-cutting game has to match his current states obsession.  The numbers that correspond to the fingers and toes remain the same, but now we also have to translate those numbers into their corresponding states.  For example, middle toe, left foot is #18, which is Louisiana.  Because I don’t know the correct order of admission, I usually need to ask Nate (“I want to cut number 15.  What state is that?”).  And because we’re done with the dice, Nate now is just randomly shouting out states, which we’re supposed to add together (just like in the dice game) and I am completely lost.  I’ll want to clip the right big toe, and he’ll go “New Jersey! Rhode Island!”  And then he’ll look at me, expectantly, like I’m supposed to know whether I need to make the buzzer sound because they add up to Tennessee, get excited because they add up to Kentucky (the right big toe state), or just confirm that they add up to Vermont and wait for him to shout Delaware.   

We have a similar game for toothbrushing.  Actually, it’s the whole toothbrushing procedure, governing how we decide whether to run, jump, or walk backward to the bathroom, how many brushes each of us gets, and how quickly or slowly we must return to the bedroom, encircle the rug, and climb up on the bed.  That game doesn’t involve states math, though.  It involves letter math, with the letters being spelled out in Tinkertoys and definitely not said aloud.

Bedtime math is a little easier with Jonah.  Jonah wants to read "Who's Hiding?" x times, and go to the bathroom x times for x minutes, and take his covers off and put his covers on x times.  X = infinity.  The end. 

Comments

[Marsha]

I get exhausted just thinking about what a single evening with your kids is like... but at least you get good stories out of them!

BTW - I have told at least 15 people about state-admission math. They all think it is fabulous and want to meet Nate.

[Grandma Nan]

I, too, get a headache just thinking about all the information and math involved in Nate's complicated games. I'm sure I'd do much better with Jonah's infinity -- I can understand "over and over" better than intricacy.

[Uncle Dave]

Me too with the headaches over states math. Though it sounds like a wild ride over there. Wonderfully funny and touching.