Clever Behaviorist Kid: Exposure
My kids (or at least Serena) seem to have been born with an intuitive understanding of exposure. I mean, I get that behavior therapy didn’t totally invent the idea of doing things you’re afraid of until you’re not afraid of them anymore. The idea of confronting your fears is kind of all around us (and not always advisable, in a non-systematic, without-a-therapist way).
But Serena got it in preschool. For herself and for her brother. One of her preschool anxieties was Staying for Lunch. We had this awesome preschool where preschool itself was from 9–11:30, and then kids could stay for 50-minute sessions after that, on an as-needed basis). So as we were trying to get our kids ready for the longer days that are kindergarten, we gradually had them stay later at preschool. This was the source of a fair amount of anxiety for both kids. Perhaps we should’ve just switched them to super-long days immediately (in a “flooding” kind of way).
Anyway, one Friday afternoon, for some reason, we gave Serena the choice. Do you want to stay for lunch on Friday? And she said, “Yes, because I’m still a little scared to stay for lunch, so if I stay more often, maybe I’ll get used to it faster.”
Had we talked to her about that possibility? Maybe. But still, she internalized it, somehow.
She applied this to her brother, too. For the first few years of his life, Ben did not like being the only one on one floor of our house. Our house is not large. You can have a conversation from anywhere in the house to anywhere in the house, with relative ease. But this made him uncomfortable. Perhaps he figured out that we didn’t leave him alone on a floor when he was tiny (enough to fall down stairs, e.g.) and assumed it was dangerous? I don’t know.
So we tried systematic desensitization years ago. You need to go to the bathroom during dinner? (We don’t have a bathroom on the main floor.) You go upstairs, and I’ll wait at the bottom of the stairs and count to 10, and then I’ll come up. I’ll count to 20. 30. I’ll be at the bottom of the stairs. I’m staying at the table to eat my dinner. That kind of thing.
But then he started asking his sister to go with him upstairs, and she obliged. We were sort of fascinated that his little sister’s presence provided the necessary company/comfort, but it did. Until she stopped. One evening I said to Ben, “You know what’s the best way to get more comfortable being upstairs by yourself?” and he said, “Ask Serena to go with you”? (?!?!?!?)
And she said, “No, I think Ben should go by himself, so he gets used to it. Ben, just go!”
Granted, we all tend to lose our conviction in exposure once the anxiety reaches a certain point. For Serena, this was her penguin book. Penguin goes on vacation, I think it was called.
Now, acquiring this book was quite a story, too. We first discovered the penguin stuffed animal when one was part of a silent-auction-basket at her preschool. We didn’t bid. She was heartbroken. But I had noticed that they were part of that Kohl’s Cares program, which means they were $5, so I suggested she could save her allowance and buy the stuffed penguin. So she did. And then she saved up and bought the associated book.
This is a super-sweet book about friendship and distance and cultures (sort of), and I saw no reason for alarm. But Serena started crying immediately when the penguin and his new crab-friend were first separated. In the car, on the way home from Kohl’s. I heard her crying and nearly pulled over, because I thought she was in pain or something. But no, it was just so sad. Even once she knew that they were reunited later (sorry, should have offered a spoiler alert there), she would start sobbing uncontrollably on that page. Then she was upset that she had wasted her money on a book she couldn’t read because it was too upsetting.
So I told her that if she read it enough she would eventually be able to read that part without finding it as upsetting, and she could enjoy the book. Brave kid, she tried it. She brought that book with her everywhere, including to a friend’s ice skating recital (if that’s what they’re called).
It worked. Here’s hoping that lesson generalizes to the next major source of anxiety.
