One of my children loves Santa, and has spent the entire last year talking about him, and thinks he is a swell guy. One of my children thinks he is not to be trusted. Can you tell who feels which way?
These pictures were taken at our ward Christmas party (and I even chose one of the less awkward pictures of Kiddo). Babs walked straight up to him (after waiting what must have been an eternity for a two-year old), and settled in on his lap. She didn't talk to him, but was very content to sit there. She seemed surprised when she was handed a present and had to go.
Kiddo, who had talked about talking to Santa in very positive terms before getting to the party, choose differently once we got there. Until she saw all the other kids with presents (coloring books). Then she found the courage to sit with him. She also did not interact with Santa, but got her gift, and did her duty.
Apparently she's not ready for Santa just yet. (But given last year's experience, we're making progress!)
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
ode to you
This is my sweet girl. Five years ago today I was sitting in the midwife's office, waiting to see if they were going to induce me or not. I had finished collecting all my dissertation data, and had no school commitments for at least a month, and my mom had just flown into town. And when I finally checked into the hospital around 5 pm, I had no idea my girl would make it to me that day (I had never considered a fast labor, but I'm now a believer, seven minute contraction notwithstanding), but she did. Just before 11 pm, she made her grand entrance.
Kiddo is completely not what I expected from my child. (Her best friend in Texas was a complete tomboy. I was once mentioning this to her mother who said, I would have no idea what to do with a girly-girl. Like I do? I thought.) She loves pink, and fancy clothes. She is happiest in a dress (or as she says "girl clothes"). And she loves to dance, especially if that includes twirling. Her lovies are still an old pair of footed pajamas, and a scrap of fabric that used to be a onesie. She is compassionate and patient with her little sister, even though Babs has mostly just antagonized her since she started exercising her free will.
Kiddo is bright, and happy. Everything is an adventure. I recently sat down with her preschool teacher, who pointed out (as I suspected) that Kiddo is way ahead of all the other kids in her academic skills. She worried that Kiddo would be bored. I assured her that was not in Kiddo's personality, and it's true. She excitedly comes home each week telling me about the letter the week, as if she hadn't known that letter, and its sound, for the last three years.
She is helpful, and from reports I overhear from other moms at preschool, much better behaved than a lot of her friends. She wants to learn everything. She often tries to help me with dinner (when I am capable of being helped), and gushes "I want to be just like you mom."
She spent most of the summer picking flowers (weeds) and bringing them to me, to show me how much she loved me. It drove me crazy. But I managed to say thank you every time, knowing that the outpouring of love would eventually be more subtle, and I needed to take it while it came. (I'm expecting more flowers next year though.)
I look into her eyes, which are a lot like mine, and wonder who is this crazy, kind, happy, brilliant child, and how do I keep her that way? I love you Kiddo.
Kiddo is completely not what I expected from my child. (Her best friend in Texas was a complete tomboy. I was once mentioning this to her mother who said, I would have no idea what to do with a girly-girl. Like I do? I thought.) She loves pink, and fancy clothes. She is happiest in a dress (or as she says "girl clothes"). And she loves to dance, especially if that includes twirling. Her lovies are still an old pair of footed pajamas, and a scrap of fabric that used to be a onesie. She is compassionate and patient with her little sister, even though Babs has mostly just antagonized her since she started exercising her free will.
Kiddo is bright, and happy. Everything is an adventure. I recently sat down with her preschool teacher, who pointed out (as I suspected) that Kiddo is way ahead of all the other kids in her academic skills. She worried that Kiddo would be bored. I assured her that was not in Kiddo's personality, and it's true. She excitedly comes home each week telling me about the letter the week, as if she hadn't known that letter, and its sound, for the last three years.
She is helpful, and from reports I overhear from other moms at preschool, much better behaved than a lot of her friends. She wants to learn everything. She often tries to help me with dinner (when I am capable of being helped), and gushes "I want to be just like you mom."
She spent most of the summer picking flowers (weeds) and bringing them to me, to show me how much she loved me. It drove me crazy. But I managed to say thank you every time, knowing that the outpouring of love would eventually be more subtle, and I needed to take it while it came. (I'm expecting more flowers next year though.)
I look into her eyes, which are a lot like mine, and wonder who is this crazy, kind, happy, brilliant child, and how do I keep her that way? I love you Kiddo.
Monday, December 3, 2012
our tree
Doesn't this look like fun? It was! Christmas season is here.
As I put Babs to bed that night, she asked if Santa was coming that night. No, I replied. Tomorrow? she wondered. Still no. But hey, my two-year old can use the word tomorrow correctly in conversation. I'm impressed.
Some of you may think - wow, your first tree since Kiddo was born (which as my sister mentions, was more of my mom's tree, as I had just had my first child, and really couldn't focus on much else). I would like to remind you that we had a tree two years ago. And my kids loved it!
Friday, November 30, 2012
a joke from kiddo
Kiddo shared with my the following joke this morning:
What did the bluebird say to the butterfly?
You look blue-tiful!
She then reported that Daddy makes jokes like that all the time. I'm not sure if she remembered a joke he told him, or made it up herself, but maybe she's starting to get it. (But if I considered yesterday's joke, maybe not.)
What did the bluebird say to the butterfly?
You look blue-tiful!
She then reported that Daddy makes jokes like that all the time. I'm not sure if she remembered a joke he told him, or made it up herself, but maybe she's starting to get it. (But if I considered yesterday's joke, maybe not.)
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
where's kiddo?
For what feels like the ump-teenth time (and with precision like that, you know I've counted correctly) Kiddo yelled from her room this morning: "Mom! Come find me! Pretend you can't find me!"
So I dutifully walked into her room, where it was immediately apparent that she was hiding under her covers. Then we did our little script:
Me: Where is Kiddo? I heard her just a moment ago...
(mostly silence)
Me: I guess I'd better find her. Is she in her doll house?
Kiddo (muffled by covers): No, I don't fit there!
Me: Is she hiding behind the bookcase?
Kiddo: I would never fit there!
Me: Maybe she's in her closet... No...
Me: Well, that was really tiring, I'll just lie down and rest on her bed, (intense giggling)
Me: Wait! This bed, it's giggling, and lumpy! what's wrong here!
Kiddo: It's me! You found me!
Then there's more laughing and tickling.
I was so tired of this game, but she ruined my pity party. After "finding" her today, her little head poked out of the covers and she gushed "This is my favorite game mom." So I suppose I'll be finding her tomorrow too.
So I dutifully walked into her room, where it was immediately apparent that she was hiding under her covers. Then we did our little script:
Me: Where is Kiddo? I heard her just a moment ago...
(mostly silence)
Me: I guess I'd better find her. Is she in her doll house?
Kiddo (muffled by covers): No, I don't fit there!
Me: Is she hiding behind the bookcase?
Kiddo: I would never fit there!
Me: Maybe she's in her closet... No...
Me: Well, that was really tiring, I'll just lie down and rest on her bed, (intense giggling)
Me: Wait! This bed, it's giggling, and lumpy! what's wrong here!
Kiddo: It's me! You found me!
Then there's more laughing and tickling.
I was so tired of this game, but she ruined my pity party. After "finding" her today, her little head poked out of the covers and she gushed "This is my favorite game mom." So I suppose I'll be finding her tomorrow too.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
program participation (or Kiddo reads)
The other morning, the girls were in Babs' room. I walked in to find Kiddo reading this book to Babs. It was wonderful. Babs now frequently asks Kiddo to read to her.
I believe in letting kids who are not yet in school drive their own education. I will teach them things, but only when they show desire. Yet I pushed her into this. But only a little bit.
Kiddo came home at the end of preschool last year with a student evaluation. Among many things, it said that she could recognize her name, and those of many of her classmates. I put this with some other things I'd noticed, and decided to try to teach her how to read over the summer.
Her participation in my goal for her changed from day to day, meaning she's like all of us. Some days we would do the minimum daily work, other days she would read, and read, and read.
Since (pre)school started, I've let her do things at her own pace, although I still practice with her some days. She is becoming an independent reader, even if she doesn't recognize it.
Two Sundays before the primary program, she got assigned her part. In the initial practice, as each child's name was called, he or she came to the podium, repeated the sentence told to him or her by the leaders, then sat down. Unless the assignment was a talk, those children just came up, got the assignment paper, then sat back down. Kiddo was assigned a talk, but didn't understand that she was just supposed to come back down without saying anything. So she stood there, expectently, waiting for someone to tell her what to say. When no help came, she looked at her paper, and clearly read "I am blessed when I choose the right." By that point I got her attention, and had her sit down.
That week, I wrote her a five paragraph talk, which she read for the program. It may not have been written by herself, (I already had her write her own talk, she's not ready for that yet) but it was delivered as well as any of the older kids did, and better than many of them.
Disturbingly, I made her read it about four times to practice. But she recited it almost entirely from memory when the actual program came around.This recitation caused me no small amount of angst, because she had been cracking a joke about her talk for the last few days, and I was very worried it would make it into the talk. She kept to the script though.
As well as her own independent reading, she reads her verse in the scriptures with us each night.
She notices things written all the time. I am becoming aware that if I don't want her to read it, I need to write in cursive.
I am so proud of her.
I believe in letting kids who are not yet in school drive their own education. I will teach them things, but only when they show desire. Yet I pushed her into this. But only a little bit.
Kiddo came home at the end of preschool last year with a student evaluation. Among many things, it said that she could recognize her name, and those of many of her classmates. I put this with some other things I'd noticed, and decided to try to teach her how to read over the summer.
Her participation in my goal for her changed from day to day, meaning she's like all of us. Some days we would do the minimum daily work, other days she would read, and read, and read.
Since (pre)school started, I've let her do things at her own pace, although I still practice with her some days. She is becoming an independent reader, even if she doesn't recognize it.
Two Sundays before the primary program, she got assigned her part. In the initial practice, as each child's name was called, he or she came to the podium, repeated the sentence told to him or her by the leaders, then sat down. Unless the assignment was a talk, those children just came up, got the assignment paper, then sat back down. Kiddo was assigned a talk, but didn't understand that she was just supposed to come back down without saying anything. So she stood there, expectently, waiting for someone to tell her what to say. When no help came, she looked at her paper, and clearly read "I am blessed when I choose the right." By that point I got her attention, and had her sit down.
That week, I wrote her a five paragraph talk, which she read for the program. It may not have been written by herself, (I already had her write her own talk, she's not ready for that yet) but it was delivered as well as any of the older kids did, and better than many of them.
Disturbingly, I made her read it about four times to practice. But she recited it almost entirely from memory when the actual program came around.This recitation caused me no small amount of angst, because she had been cracking a joke about her talk for the last few days, and I was very worried it would make it into the talk. She kept to the script though.
As well as her own independent reading, she reads her verse in the scriptures with us each night.
She notices things written all the time. I am becoming aware that if I don't want her to read it, I need to write in cursive.
I am so proud of her.
Friday, November 9, 2012
service
A few weeks ago Kiddo had a primary lesson on service. It seemed to really stick. The next Saturday, as we were outside (talking to our landlord I believe) she saw that our neighbors hadn't started raking their leaves, and decided she would help. She found her rake, and headed on over.
Well, you have to support a blossoming understanding of service, right? So my husband found his rake, and the two of them worked at it.
Most of the work by Kiddo stopped once there was a serious pile of leaves, but I was proud of her anyway.
Well, you have to support a blossoming understanding of service, right? So my husband found his rake, and the two of them worked at it.
Most of the work by Kiddo stopped once there was a serious pile of leaves, but I was proud of her anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)






