Thursday, January 31, 2008

Arthur eaten

I experienced a first tonight. I was in a car with my wife and both daughters, and Reesa was the loud, non-stop chatterbox while her sister Genevieve sat quietly enough to be almost unnoticed. Reesa kept talking about her best friends, Arthur, DW and Jenny. What was it she said? That the monster was impolite? Something like that. (My verification source, a.k.a. wife, is currently unavailable for fact check services. She's sleeping.) Anyway, we asked why she thought the monster was impolite, and she said, "Because, it ate Ahfur, and DW, and Jenny."

Hmm. I suppose it is considered rude to eat your friends.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

S.S. ment

The local school district conducts an early development assessment and opportunity to connect with early childhood resources. In advance of going, I explained to Genevieve a little about what she could expect at the assessment. It was done in a playful class environment, lasted an hour, and she loved it. And why not -- lots of adults paying close attention to her and challenging her with various skill tests. Afterwards, she talked a lot about her "S.S. ment."

Note: Today, Genevieve skipped for the first time at her creative movement class.

Delaying tactics

Reesa is very happy with her new hair doo. Today at the YMCA child watch, Reesa announced that her sister has bangs, and that she has a wedge cut. (Sorry, no pictures yet.)

Reesa has also mastered the fine art of serial pooping. For the past many days (at home, not at school) she has managed to hold her BM until nap time, and then announce "I have a poopy diapee!" Cleaned up with a fresh diaper, she will generally generate a new poopy diaper within one to twenty minutes. She can do this three or four times, delaying nap time for an hour or so. After all this activity, she is sometimes unable to nap.

Monday, January 21, 2008

The hair store

In the category of Blindingly obvious if only I'd taken a minute to give it half a thought, I offer you my daughters' hairstyles.

I realize now that I liked the fact that Reesa's hair had grown long and, with the exception of some tidy-up trimmings, had been left to grow. Then today, momma took the girls to the "hair store," and Bammo! Reesa comes home with a wedge cut. If you don't know what a wedge cut is, well, good chance is you're a guy, and it doesn't matter anyhow. What became blindingly obvious to me in that moment was that I was going to have no control, and little influence, over how my daughters will look. Not that I wouldn't have come to that conclusion anyway, but I really hadn't thought about Reesa actually getting shorter hair.

Now that the bubble has been burst, I am steeling myself for the nose ring, purple hair and totally unflattering clothing that will be coming our way soon. And I do mean soon, because even though the infant and toddler years do seem to last a long time (due to the fact that I was awake for twice as many hours as in pre-child years), now it seems like it's starting to fly by.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Far away land


Lately, my wife and I have been spending various parts of the (or entire) nights sleeping apart from each other and with a child. Early one morning, I woke in Reesa’s bed with the two-year old on her knees, fixing me with the stare that probably woke me up.

“Daddy,” she said conversationally, “do you live in a far away land?”

“Um, no, I live here in this house. I’m in your bed.”

“You don’t live in a far away land?”

“Uh, no.” I rolled over. “But I wish I were there now.”

Another morning, another parent, another early morning conversation.

“Mommy, do you like mushrooms? Does daddy like mushrooms? We don’t like mushrooms. Dey too spicy. I don’t like mushrooms.”


Reesa is very interested in dolls, and is very caring for them in her own way. Dolls sleep with blankets covering their faces, and can only stay warm with hats over their eyes. “Oh, I cuddle you, baby. Here you go. Ssshhhh.”


Reesa says “bakset” (basket), “Ge’ e’ eive” (Genevieve), and “somefing” (something). One of her prayers is, “I tankful for da lovey t’ees (lovely trees), an’ da lovey food…Ah-men!”

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

A fable will do

I've generally been able to let me children know when I don't know an answer to a question. Sometimes I'll say something like this: "Well, I'm not sure why that is, but maybe..." And the remainder will be filled in with my best guess or what I know about similar situations.

If I simply say, “I don’t know,” Genevieve will reply, “Make something up, daddy.” She wants an explanation for everything, and if she can't get that then she wants a conjecture, and failing that a fable will do. She insatiably and always wants to know.

So when she is asking for the 21st reason during the fifth minute of a car ride, my choices are:
(1) to remember how I once wanted to know why for everything, or
(2) to say "This is the last one, then I'm out of why's", or
(3) to start providing stories with increasingly less connection to plausible reality, or
(4) to bang my head against the steering wheel while softly whimpering.

Number four is recommended only while at a complete stop. Other than that, they are equally effective (or ineffective) as a coping mechanism.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Rock star for a minute

Reesa really knows how to make daddy feel good. Whenever I pick her up at the end of child care, I get the rock star treatment. As soon as she sees me walking toward her room, or to the playground or wherever she is at the time, she shouts "Daddy! Daddy! Look at this! Daddy! That's my daddy! Daddy! Watch this! Daddy!" She runs to me and throws her little body into my arms and laughs. Oooo yeah, it is GREAT to be her father in those moments. I love being her father in lots of other moments, but I can feel the ego eatin' up the adolation in public.

I also want to document this behavior now, because it can look different at another age. Take today, for example. First, see Reesa, receive rock star treatment. Then, go down hallway and meet Genevieve as she is opening the door out of her room, dressed to go outside to the playground. She gives me a dark look that suggests 'oh yuck, that stinky ugly farty dog is here again' and she says, "I don't want to go home with you now!" Ahh, feel the love!