Zuzu: 3.83 yrs old
Bear: 1.72 yrs old
Drop-off was easy. Hubs came too. Zuzu hugged us and kissed us and skipped happily into the classroom.
She was cheerful at pick-up and was excited to tell me that they had had snacks. She described the snack as "circles." Hm.
Bear wasn't as happy to have me to himself as I realized I must have been thinking he would be. He seemed a little lonely without Zuzu. We went to music class--his first music class of the fall, first time without Zuzu, first time in a new building with a new teacher, and he kept making frowny faces and alternating between shy and playful. He didn't cling to me, or seem like he needed to be comforted. He was just trying to figure the place out. Once it gets familiar I think he'll have a great time.
This afternoon I took Zuzu to her first ballet/tap class. Hubs stopped by for part of that, too. I LOVED watching those little ballerinas through the glass. Zuzu seemed to have as much fun as I was sure she would. One of her friends is in the class and they were so giddy together. At one point they put their hands on each other's shoulders and kissed on the lips.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Goodbye traditions
7/31/15
Zuzu: 3.70 yrs old
Bear: 1.59 yrs old
Zuzu takes goodbyes very seriously. She has traditions: hugs are crucial, and often more than one hug is required; and she wants to watch the person leave. She wants to see them climb into the car, see them drive away. If her traditions get skipped, it's difficult for Zuzu to move on. Recently I dropped the kids off for an hour at a learning center. When I picked them up, the teacher told me she noticed Zuzu right after I left, sitting quietly at a table trying to hold back tears. When she asked her what was wrong, Zuzu tearfully told the teacher that she hadn't given me a hug. The teacher didn't say much else about it, but I suspect there was a bit of a meltdown. Another time, we were with friends at a playground, and our friends had to leave, so I said goodbye while Zuzu and Bear kept playing. When Zuzu found out our friends were gone, she wailed to the heavens and ran toward the parking lot hoping to catch them, to say goodbye and give them hugs. But they were long gone. She wept loudly on the way home.
I want to tell Zuzu reassuring things when this happens, like "our friends know you love them," and "we'll see them again soon." But it doesn't help. Zuzu isn't worried that our friends don't know she loves them without a hug. I think she just feels incomplete. I think it's like the feeling I get when I see open parenthesis and the writer forgets the close parenthesis. It's upsetting, and being reassured that the writer did, in fact, complete his or her parenthetical thought despite the lack of close parenthesis wouldn't really placate me. The only thing that would work is either drawing the missing parenthesis with a pen or deciding to just stop thinking about it because it isn't worth going crazy over.
When Zuzu misses part of her goodbye routine, the best thing I can do is draw the close parenthesis with a pen--that is, deliver her goodbye messages via a phone call or text or something, and that brings her peace.
Zuzu: 3.70 yrs old
Bear: 1.59 yrs old
Zuzu takes goodbyes very seriously. She has traditions: hugs are crucial, and often more than one hug is required; and she wants to watch the person leave. She wants to see them climb into the car, see them drive away. If her traditions get skipped, it's difficult for Zuzu to move on. Recently I dropped the kids off for an hour at a learning center. When I picked them up, the teacher told me she noticed Zuzu right after I left, sitting quietly at a table trying to hold back tears. When she asked her what was wrong, Zuzu tearfully told the teacher that she hadn't given me a hug. The teacher didn't say much else about it, but I suspect there was a bit of a meltdown. Another time, we were with friends at a playground, and our friends had to leave, so I said goodbye while Zuzu and Bear kept playing. When Zuzu found out our friends were gone, she wailed to the heavens and ran toward the parking lot hoping to catch them, to say goodbye and give them hugs. But they were long gone. She wept loudly on the way home.
I want to tell Zuzu reassuring things when this happens, like "our friends know you love them," and "we'll see them again soon." But it doesn't help. Zuzu isn't worried that our friends don't know she loves them without a hug. I think she just feels incomplete. I think it's like the feeling I get when I see open parenthesis and the writer forgets the close parenthesis. It's upsetting, and being reassured that the writer did, in fact, complete his or her parenthetical thought despite the lack of close parenthesis wouldn't really placate me. The only thing that would work is either drawing the missing parenthesis with a pen or deciding to just stop thinking about it because it isn't worth going crazy over.
When Zuzu misses part of her goodbye routine, the best thing I can do is draw the close parenthesis with a pen--that is, deliver her goodbye messages via a phone call or text or something, and that brings her peace.
Do: a deer, a female POOP!
Zuzu: 3.83 yrs old
Bear: 1.72 yrs old
This is how we sang that song from Sound of Music.
Do: a deer, a female POOP!
Re: a drop of golden POOP!
Mi: a name I call my POOP!
Fa: a long long way to POOP!
So: a needle pulling POOP!
La: a note to follow POOP!
Te: a drink with jam and POOP!
That will bring us back to POOP!
I not only allowed this, not only encouraged it, but I led the kids in singing it. I mean, Zuzu started it. She's been singing it--the normal version--quite a bit since I taught it to her. She doesn't get it all right but she does her best and it's adorable. We were listening to it on a cd in the car, and when we stopped at the grocery store, Zuzu told me she was going to sing it inside and that people would love to hear it. She was right. People did love to hear her singing it on her way through the grocery store.
But later at night she got the idea of doing a poop version. It made me laugh. Bear pretended he was in on the joke and laughed too. That made me laugh harder, which got Zuzu excited and she kept singing, but since she was getting the words all mixed up I had to help her. And then the kids were enjoying it so much that I began to sing it robustly, shouting the word POOP! right in the kids' faces and laughing heartily after ever single line. Bear loved the POOP! shouting part and joined right in.
The kids loved me for it. They crawled all over me with shining, laughing faces.
The problem with moments like this is that the kids will want to sing the poop song every day for basically eternity, and as of tomorrow I will be so over it.
Bear: 1.72 yrs old
This is how we sang that song from Sound of Music.
Do: a deer, a female POOP!
Re: a drop of golden POOP!
Mi: a name I call my POOP!
Fa: a long long way to POOP!
So: a needle pulling POOP!
La: a note to follow POOP!
Te: a drink with jam and POOP!
That will bring us back to POOP!
I not only allowed this, not only encouraged it, but I led the kids in singing it. I mean, Zuzu started it. She's been singing it--the normal version--quite a bit since I taught it to her. She doesn't get it all right but she does her best and it's adorable. We were listening to it on a cd in the car, and when we stopped at the grocery store, Zuzu told me she was going to sing it inside and that people would love to hear it. She was right. People did love to hear her singing it on her way through the grocery store.
But later at night she got the idea of doing a poop version. It made me laugh. Bear pretended he was in on the joke and laughed too. That made me laugh harder, which got Zuzu excited and she kept singing, but since she was getting the words all mixed up I had to help her. And then the kids were enjoying it so much that I began to sing it robustly, shouting the word POOP! right in the kids' faces and laughing heartily after ever single line. Bear loved the POOP! shouting part and joined right in.
The kids loved me for it. They crawled all over me with shining, laughing faces.
The problem with moments like this is that the kids will want to sing the poop song every day for basically eternity, and as of tomorrow I will be so over it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)