Zuzu: 4.68 yrs old
Bear: 2.57 yrs old
Zuzu, squinting her eyes at us: "I'm watching you!" As though she knows we're up to mischief and she's going to catch us at it. I don't know who she got that from. But she does it just right.
I asked Zuzu to tell me a story. She ran laps around the dining room table while narrating the following:
Once upon a time there was a fairy with bright wings, and she flied all around a tree that made her pixie dust. And one time she flew out into the forest and found her fairy friends, and then she invited them to go to her tree that made her pixie dust. Then she made some pixie dust tea for them. They liked it, and then they had some graham crackers with pixie dust on the top. Then they had some fairy cupcakes.
And then they made a tent in the forest and did a sleepover! Then the other day their wings couldn't fly, so they walked to the pixie dust tree and filled their wings up. Then they flied into the forest and got as many pebbles as they could to make more pixie dust. Thet flew to the pixie dust tree, then suddenly the pebbles turned into pixie dust! Then she poured it down. Then what she did is bought some ribbons and they danced!
And then one day they were going to a party. And then there was a witch, and she was pretending to be nice, but the fairies heard of this witch, so they did not listen to the witch. And then they had a fight. But then one of the fairies got hurt. Her wing got broken, and she couldn't fly any more. And then the other fairies checked to see if she was okay. They brought her to the pixie dust tree, gave her some soup, and then suddenly something very cool happened! Suddenly when they put their wings together it banded her wing and she could fly! [yeah that came from a Tinker Bell movie.] Then they lived happily ever after.
[What happened to the witch? I asked.] She got throwed in the dungeon by the police and she was gonna stay there forever!
Bear does a squeaky, soft, high-pitched voice when he first wakes up in the mornings. And at other times when he's feeling needy. I love it. I love it. I love it so.
Zuzu getting her first professional haircut ... jumping up and down with joy and excitement at the salon, all the employees delighted, hugging the stylist afterward
Bear loves baseball and playdoh.
Zuzu draws the cutest pictures. She draws fairies and mermaids, porcupines and dinosaurs and more. And they all have smiley faces.
Monday, July 25, 2016
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
First day at preschool
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.
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.
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.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Butterflies, ice cream, and head-to-toe mud
Zuzu: 3.68 yrs old
Bear: 1.57 yrs old
The Butterfly House was just what you would imagine, a little piece of fairyland inside a greenhouse. There were instructions posted before you went in, telling you to hurry inside so the winged residents wouldn't escape through the open door, and to keep an eye out for the little creatures underfoot. A gravel path weaved through lush plants with colorful flowers. In one corner a little gurgling fountain ran into a little pond. At first, you didn't see any butterflies. Then you saw one. Then with excitement you spotted a second ... and after you'd been in there a while you saw them everywhere, dozens all at the same time.
A Butterfly Guide was there, just the sort of person you'd want to find in the middle of this tiny Enchanted Forest, a cheerful and absent-minded expert on the subject of butterflies. She kept up a constant chatter, sometimes addressing us and sometimes herself, breaking off frequently to mutter about the bumblebee that kept evading her net or the newly emerged monarchs that were still stretching their wings before they could fly. She told us not to touch the stinging nettles, but said butterflies love them, and some people swear that stinging nettle soup is delicious. She clucked to butterflies the way one would summon a cat, and persuaded them to climb onto her fingers, where they sat folding and unfolding their glorious wings. She helped us to see caterpillar poop on kale leaves. She kept lifting up her baseball cap as she talked, and then pulling it down at a cockeyed angle. Picture Radagast the Brown giving a nature talk.
I think Zuzu was not totally sure what the point was of being there, since we see butterflies in our own backyard. She was quiet, and she looked at the butterflies, and listened to the Butterfly Guide, and smiled at my enthusiasm, but she didn't seem to really connect with it or to understand why we should continue standing there looking at butterflies after we had already seen thirty of them. Bear was in the stroller and seemed interested, but I didn't dare let him down to wander free amongst stinging nettles and fragile wings, so after a while he began to whine and struggle. We left and went to the gift shop, where we got a little butterfly coloring book.
After this we drove just a little further to a Mennonite Country Store. I love shopping at the Country Store, but it isn't close to our house so I hardly every go. As we pulled up I saw a sign announcing that the store was celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary, and they were grilling free brats and handing out free ice cream. I had brought along Snacks for lunch, but this seemed better. We got in line.
There were a lot of people, and it was hot and muggy. Zuzu opened one of the coolers full of soda, pulled out an ice cube, and colored on the sidewalk with it. People stood in a tent preparing food. Mennonite girls in plain dresses with black socks and black shoes and hair in braids. Women in bonnets. We didn't have to wait long to get our food. As we ate in the shade, a man turned on a big machine that I'd taken for farm equipment. There were two wooden barrels on top with silver canisters inside them. The man dumped ice around the canisters and then covered the ice with salt, and I remembered making ice cream in science class as a kid with coffee cans, using the same method. So I informed my children that the man was making ice cream. But I had no idea how the machine worked, with its spinning wheels and pulleys.
Zuzu ate her brat, and then ice cream. Bear ate ice cream.
We then proceeded into the store. At this point I had a toddler on my hands who hadn't napped yet and had eaten ice cream for lunch and who absolutely did not want to be in the stroller anymore. I set him loose in the grocery aisles. He ran back and forth--literally ran--touching everything, shouting barbaric yawps as he went. To his credit, he heeded my command to touch gently; he didn't pull or knock stuff off the shelves (I mean AFTER that one big bag of oats right at the beginning). But he was running, and he was shouting, and the store was very crowded, and let me tell you, the other customers were not at ease with the situation. Normally my children elicit lots of smiles when we're out and about. Today it was more like fear. And concentration, as folks tried to bypass the hollering toddler zigzagging like a maniac at their feet. We did get a smile from a lady in the checkout lane, but that was after I'd wrestled Bear kicking and screaming back into the stroller, and pushed him around the rest of the store still screaming, drowning out the church music they pipe into the place, until he wore himself out. The lady in the checkout lane looked at Bear, and said, "It's tough to be a little guy, isn't it?" In that moment, I think Bear liked her better than me.
We had parked next to a large field. While I was unstrapping Bear from the stroller, Zuzu frolicked a few feet into the field. This of course made Bear very much want to frolic. I am a fan of field frolicking, so I let him. However, when Zuzu saw that her brother had joined her, she took this to mean that the two of them ought to chase each other the entire length of the field, and she plunged down the slope. At the bottom, she discovered that the grass was soggy with mud. One of her feet sank and mud seeped into her shoe. Now, Zuzu is against The State of Being Dirty, so she retreated. Bear, on the other hand, continued barreling full speed ahead. I tried to stop him, but he skirted my outstretched hands, lumbered a few more steps, and more or less belly-flopped into the puddle of mud.
The mud didn't bother Bear. But he was outraged when I scooped him up and carried him to the car. I buckled in the kids without making a single attempt, before driving away, of cleaning or wiping up a drop of mud. I didn't even touch the mud streaked across my own arm from carrying Bear. Bear's shorts were soaked with it. Mud was on his face and his arms and his legs. When we got home and I opened up the back car door to survey the damage, I reminded myself that I had once heard there was a study which concluded that kids today are too clean. The lengths parents go to to maintain their kids' cleanliness is actually sabotaging their health, I remember hearing. Was there ever such a study? Has it been debunked? Don't tell me. I use that study often to make myself feel better.
Also:
Zuzu in a leotard dancing like a ballerina in the sunroom.
Bear discovering the butterfly picture Zuzu had colored during his nap, which I'd taped up in the sunroom. He shouted his word for butterfly very excitedly over and over. Then he came into the dining room to get me, shouting "Buh-eye! Buh-eye!" and pointing to the sunroom. I asked him to show me and he did--he ran across the room and pointed to the picture on the window.
The kids snuggling on the couch with Daddy at bedtime while he read Bible stories.
Zuzu and Bear snuggling sleepily together, for perhaps the first time since he was a newborn. Zuzu asked if he wanted to snuggle, and he was so sleepy that he didn't mind when Daddy put him across her lap. It lasted a few minutes.
Bear: 1.57 yrs old
The Butterfly House was just what you would imagine, a little piece of fairyland inside a greenhouse. There were instructions posted before you went in, telling you to hurry inside so the winged residents wouldn't escape through the open door, and to keep an eye out for the little creatures underfoot. A gravel path weaved through lush plants with colorful flowers. In one corner a little gurgling fountain ran into a little pond. At first, you didn't see any butterflies. Then you saw one. Then with excitement you spotted a second ... and after you'd been in there a while you saw them everywhere, dozens all at the same time.
A Butterfly Guide was there, just the sort of person you'd want to find in the middle of this tiny Enchanted Forest, a cheerful and absent-minded expert on the subject of butterflies. She kept up a constant chatter, sometimes addressing us and sometimes herself, breaking off frequently to mutter about the bumblebee that kept evading her net or the newly emerged monarchs that were still stretching their wings before they could fly. She told us not to touch the stinging nettles, but said butterflies love them, and some people swear that stinging nettle soup is delicious. She clucked to butterflies the way one would summon a cat, and persuaded them to climb onto her fingers, where they sat folding and unfolding their glorious wings. She helped us to see caterpillar poop on kale leaves. She kept lifting up her baseball cap as she talked, and then pulling it down at a cockeyed angle. Picture Radagast the Brown giving a nature talk.
I think Zuzu was not totally sure what the point was of being there, since we see butterflies in our own backyard. She was quiet, and she looked at the butterflies, and listened to the Butterfly Guide, and smiled at my enthusiasm, but she didn't seem to really connect with it or to understand why we should continue standing there looking at butterflies after we had already seen thirty of them. Bear was in the stroller and seemed interested, but I didn't dare let him down to wander free amongst stinging nettles and fragile wings, so after a while he began to whine and struggle. We left and went to the gift shop, where we got a little butterfly coloring book.
After this we drove just a little further to a Mennonite Country Store. I love shopping at the Country Store, but it isn't close to our house so I hardly every go. As we pulled up I saw a sign announcing that the store was celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary, and they were grilling free brats and handing out free ice cream. I had brought along Snacks for lunch, but this seemed better. We got in line.
There were a lot of people, and it was hot and muggy. Zuzu opened one of the coolers full of soda, pulled out an ice cube, and colored on the sidewalk with it. People stood in a tent preparing food. Mennonite girls in plain dresses with black socks and black shoes and hair in braids. Women in bonnets. We didn't have to wait long to get our food. As we ate in the shade, a man turned on a big machine that I'd taken for farm equipment. There were two wooden barrels on top with silver canisters inside them. The man dumped ice around the canisters and then covered the ice with salt, and I remembered making ice cream in science class as a kid with coffee cans, using the same method. So I informed my children that the man was making ice cream. But I had no idea how the machine worked, with its spinning wheels and pulleys.
Zuzu ate her brat, and then ice cream. Bear ate ice cream.
We then proceeded into the store. At this point I had a toddler on my hands who hadn't napped yet and had eaten ice cream for lunch and who absolutely did not want to be in the stroller anymore. I set him loose in the grocery aisles. He ran back and forth--literally ran--touching everything, shouting barbaric yawps as he went. To his credit, he heeded my command to touch gently; he didn't pull or knock stuff off the shelves (I mean AFTER that one big bag of oats right at the beginning). But he was running, and he was shouting, and the store was very crowded, and let me tell you, the other customers were not at ease with the situation. Normally my children elicit lots of smiles when we're out and about. Today it was more like fear. And concentration, as folks tried to bypass the hollering toddler zigzagging like a maniac at their feet. We did get a smile from a lady in the checkout lane, but that was after I'd wrestled Bear kicking and screaming back into the stroller, and pushed him around the rest of the store still screaming, drowning out the church music they pipe into the place, until he wore himself out. The lady in the checkout lane looked at Bear, and said, "It's tough to be a little guy, isn't it?" In that moment, I think Bear liked her better than me.
We had parked next to a large field. While I was unstrapping Bear from the stroller, Zuzu frolicked a few feet into the field. This of course made Bear very much want to frolic. I am a fan of field frolicking, so I let him. However, when Zuzu saw that her brother had joined her, she took this to mean that the two of them ought to chase each other the entire length of the field, and she plunged down the slope. At the bottom, she discovered that the grass was soggy with mud. One of her feet sank and mud seeped into her shoe. Now, Zuzu is against The State of Being Dirty, so she retreated. Bear, on the other hand, continued barreling full speed ahead. I tried to stop him, but he skirted my outstretched hands, lumbered a few more steps, and more or less belly-flopped into the puddle of mud.
The mud didn't bother Bear. But he was outraged when I scooped him up and carried him to the car. I buckled in the kids without making a single attempt, before driving away, of cleaning or wiping up a drop of mud. I didn't even touch the mud streaked across my own arm from carrying Bear. Bear's shorts were soaked with it. Mud was on his face and his arms and his legs. When we got home and I opened up the back car door to survey the damage, I reminded myself that I had once heard there was a study which concluded that kids today are too clean. The lengths parents go to to maintain their kids' cleanliness is actually sabotaging their health, I remember hearing. Was there ever such a study? Has it been debunked? Don't tell me. I use that study often to make myself feel better.
Also:
Zuzu in a leotard dancing like a ballerina in the sunroom.
Bear discovering the butterfly picture Zuzu had colored during his nap, which I'd taped up in the sunroom. He shouted his word for butterfly very excitedly over and over. Then he came into the dining room to get me, shouting "Buh-eye! Buh-eye!" and pointing to the sunroom. I asked him to show me and he did--he ran across the room and pointed to the picture on the window.
The kids snuggling on the couch with Daddy at bedtime while he read Bible stories.
Zuzu and Bear snuggling sleepily together, for perhaps the first time since he was a newborn. Zuzu asked if he wanted to snuggle, and he was so sleepy that he didn't mind when Daddy put him across her lap. It lasted a few minutes.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Waddling; goodbye highchair; poop in the tub
Zuzu: 3.67 yrs old
Bear: 1.56 yrs old
It is July 21, exactly one month after the summer solstice, and for the first time I can tell that the days are shorter.
Bear likes to pound his chest like a gorilla.
Zuzu likes to waddle like a penguin. Except she doesn't exactly waddle, she bounces, adorably. I tried to instruct her on what the word "waddle" actually entails, because after enjoying her bouncing version a few times it began to grate at me that she wasn't using the word waddle correctly, and the meaning of words MATTERS! I told her how to waddle. I showed her how to waddle. I confused her. I took the bounce out of her step. I told her to forget everything I'd just said and done and waddle however she wanted.
Zuzu does not yet take instructions well when it comes to learning something challenging. Her attention span is nothing. If she tries the activity and fails, she wants to be done, to do something else. She doesn't yet understand that she can do it, if she would listen, if she would practice ...
Bear hasn't been in his highchair at all the last few days. He was getting strapped into his highchair for every single meal and snack and many art activities, then one day he climbed into one of the regular chairs at the dining room table and I gave him his plate and let him eat, and since then we've been done with the highchair. Because he throws a fit if I try to put him in it. And because I don't mind it this way, either. If he drops his spoon he'll get it himself. And I don't have to wonder as much if he's had enough food. He gets up and down a lot during the meal, but when he's still hungry he always comes back right away to eat more.
One of Zuzu's friends came over to play. The first thing they did was dress-up. Then they sat together in the rocking chair, snuggled side by side, still wearing their princess dresses, and read Bible stories to each other. Each of them had one of the kids Bibles on their lap, and they flipped through, and took turns telling the stories. Zuzu improvised quite a bit on her turns and her friend corrected her on the details.
While on the phone with poison control yesterday (don't ask--everyone's fine), I was watching both kids in the bathtub splashing happily away, when I noticed the water surrounding Bear slowly fill with poop. He's been having soft poops recently. So the poop in the bathtub wasn't a log. It was a cloud of little soft poop bits. Luckily he was sitting closest to the drain, so when I opened the valve the poop cloud moved away from Zuzu. Still on the phone with poison control, I lifted Zuzu out of the tub, to her surprise and displeasure, and spent the next minute trying to clean the tub and Bear and slapping his hand every time he picked up poop. Finally I finished the call, got rid of the poop, put Zuzu back in the tub and started the bath over.
Bear hollers "hi" and "bye" to strangers whenever we're out shopping. Zuzu still likes to greet other shoppers, too, so we get lots of smiles when we're out and about.
Bear: 1.56 yrs old
It is July 21, exactly one month after the summer solstice, and for the first time I can tell that the days are shorter.
Bear likes to pound his chest like a gorilla.
Zuzu likes to waddle like a penguin. Except she doesn't exactly waddle, she bounces, adorably. I tried to instruct her on what the word "waddle" actually entails, because after enjoying her bouncing version a few times it began to grate at me that she wasn't using the word waddle correctly, and the meaning of words MATTERS! I told her how to waddle. I showed her how to waddle. I confused her. I took the bounce out of her step. I told her to forget everything I'd just said and done and waddle however she wanted.
Zuzu does not yet take instructions well when it comes to learning something challenging. Her attention span is nothing. If she tries the activity and fails, she wants to be done, to do something else. She doesn't yet understand that she can do it, if she would listen, if she would practice ...
Bear hasn't been in his highchair at all the last few days. He was getting strapped into his highchair for every single meal and snack and many art activities, then one day he climbed into one of the regular chairs at the dining room table and I gave him his plate and let him eat, and since then we've been done with the highchair. Because he throws a fit if I try to put him in it. And because I don't mind it this way, either. If he drops his spoon he'll get it himself. And I don't have to wonder as much if he's had enough food. He gets up and down a lot during the meal, but when he's still hungry he always comes back right away to eat more.
One of Zuzu's friends came over to play. The first thing they did was dress-up. Then they sat together in the rocking chair, snuggled side by side, still wearing their princess dresses, and read Bible stories to each other. Each of them had one of the kids Bibles on their lap, and they flipped through, and took turns telling the stories. Zuzu improvised quite a bit on her turns and her friend corrected her on the details.
While on the phone with poison control yesterday (don't ask--everyone's fine), I was watching both kids in the bathtub splashing happily away, when I noticed the water surrounding Bear slowly fill with poop. He's been having soft poops recently. So the poop in the bathtub wasn't a log. It was a cloud of little soft poop bits. Luckily he was sitting closest to the drain, so when I opened the valve the poop cloud moved away from Zuzu. Still on the phone with poison control, I lifted Zuzu out of the tub, to her surprise and displeasure, and spent the next minute trying to clean the tub and Bear and slapping his hand every time he picked up poop. Finally I finished the call, got rid of the poop, put Zuzu back in the tub and started the bath over.
Bear hollers "hi" and "bye" to strangers whenever we're out shopping. Zuzu still likes to greet other shoppers, too, so we get lots of smiles when we're out and about.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Mailing a Package and Spitting Milk
Zuzu: 3.67 yrs old
Bear: 1.56 yrs old
Zuzu in the backseat with the package on her lap that we're going to mail to Arizona. There's a toy inside the box. She knows the toy isn't for her, but she played with it before it went in the box, and she's a little sad that it isn't staying with us. She talks to the toy inside the box all the way to the FedEx store. She tells it what's going on outside, since it can't see for itself. She points out the house where one of her friends used to live, and explains that he moved to a different house. She tells it the color of each car that we pass. She shouts out, "there's an American flag!" Then she carries the package into the FedEx store and puts it on the counter. The FedEx lady is really nice. Zuzu tells her about the toy inside the box. Then she says, "Do you want to see what shoes I'm wearing?" So the FedEx lady leans over the counter and Zuzu holds up her foot, clad in a sparkly Princess Belle flip flop. When we leave, Zuzu shouts the name of the toy up to the heavens, not hoping to get the toy back, not expecting it to hear her, but just giving vent to her feelings of missing the toy.
The kids in a friend's backyard, playing in a blow-up pool. Bear is tentative and clingy when I try to put him in the water. He gets over it quickly. The other kids play at the edge of the pool. Bear stands in the middle. He splashes and stomps and cackles and has an immensely good time.
The way Bear looks holding milk in his mouth, looking up at me with mischief all over his face. "Don't spit it out," I warn him sternly. He has been spraying milk out of his mouth for fun. I've told him no, and now he's just trying to provoke me. His eyes are laughing at me. He keeps taking sips of milk and not swallowing until I've glared at him a while. But he doesn't break the rule again ... he just toes the line.
Bear: 1.56 yrs old
Zuzu in the backseat with the package on her lap that we're going to mail to Arizona. There's a toy inside the box. She knows the toy isn't for her, but she played with it before it went in the box, and she's a little sad that it isn't staying with us. She talks to the toy inside the box all the way to the FedEx store. She tells it what's going on outside, since it can't see for itself. She points out the house where one of her friends used to live, and explains that he moved to a different house. She tells it the color of each car that we pass. She shouts out, "there's an American flag!" Then she carries the package into the FedEx store and puts it on the counter. The FedEx lady is really nice. Zuzu tells her about the toy inside the box. Then she says, "Do you want to see what shoes I'm wearing?" So the FedEx lady leans over the counter and Zuzu holds up her foot, clad in a sparkly Princess Belle flip flop. When we leave, Zuzu shouts the name of the toy up to the heavens, not hoping to get the toy back, not expecting it to hear her, but just giving vent to her feelings of missing the toy.
The kids in a friend's backyard, playing in a blow-up pool. Bear is tentative and clingy when I try to put him in the water. He gets over it quickly. The other kids play at the edge of the pool. Bear stands in the middle. He splashes and stomps and cackles and has an immensely good time.
The way Bear looks holding milk in his mouth, looking up at me with mischief all over his face. "Don't spit it out," I warn him sternly. He has been spraying milk out of his mouth for fun. I've told him no, and now he's just trying to provoke me. His eyes are laughing at me. He keeps taking sips of milk and not swallowing until I've glared at him a while. But he doesn't break the rule again ... he just toes the line.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)