thoughts from the park

School starts in 5 days. So I asked Kiddo if there was anything she'd like to do. "Go to the park?" she asked. Okay. So after the Boy's nap, off we went.

Part of the reason she wanted to go to the park is because she *finally* learned how to swing on her own, and wanted to practice. Because I am so ready to not push her any more, I wanted her to practice. She sang a happy song and swung for a really long time.

The Boy brought two books to the park. He was much more interested in being read to and wandering around the park with his two books than the swings, the slides, or climbing around.

And as I watch Babs emerge from the slide I thought: When did my little girl get so long and lean? Where did my little brick go? I guess she is old enough to go to kindergarten... even if I still wish it were half day.

snak!

The boy loves fruit snacks. The girls, not so much, not any more. He also knows what they're called.

Over the last little while, when I've asked "do you want a snack?" He excitedly yells "Snak! Snak!" thinking I'm about to dish out some fruit snacks. And he was so sad when I didn't. (Depending on the day, there were either tears or throwing things to express his frustration.)

So I started to rephrase things, lest I utter the word "snack." "Do you want something to eat?" is what I say now.

On Sunday night, we stayed up as a family watching a movie. Usually we put him to bed in the middle of it all, but this time we let him stay up. As we neared the end, he looked me in the eye, with the I-can-barely-talk-but-we-need-to-communicate-right-now look.

"Som-ping eat," he announced.

I was so proud. And had my husband get him an applesauce (a food he seems to enjoy, but is only willing to eat when he's really hungry).

who doesn't love an almost two year old?

This is my desktop background. It makes me laugh every time I see it. He is not in pain, just digging the sand from a drain pipe.

It is very helpful in my current attempts to see life as a series of opportunities and experiences, not obligations. I get to smile each time I use the computer.

tiny thugs

We were at my friend's house the other day with lots of little kids playing in their backyard. Many of the very little kids (by that I mean the boy's age) kept digging in the fairy gardens that belonged to some of Babs' friends. But not my boy, because we'd been here before, so he knew better, and I was watching, because I knew better.

But other kids did dig, and this upset the older kids (Bab's age) a lot, especially the twin owners of the fairy gardens.

Babs came to me crying: "My brother is leading a baby team to go dig in the fairy garden!"

"Sweetie, he's not in the fairy garden, I've been watching."

"But they say that he's doing it, and he's getting all the other babies to help him!"

I tried to calm her down while in my head imagining the complex operation of both organizing a gang of babies, and having a 22 month old as the leader.

But rumors are persistent... my friend is still trying to convince her girls that my Boy was not the ring leader too.

(He looks guilty, don't you think?)

popstar dreams

Babs got the movie "Barbie Princess and the Pop Star" from the library today. Since we have already read the book three or four times (also from the library), we knew the story line. As Babs heard the theme song, she was thrilled.

"This is the song from my guitar! It's a pop star guitar! You bought it for me mom, thank you!"

"Actually Grandma bought it for you."

"We need to send her a note to say thank you" she gushed. (Dear Grandma, thank you for the Pop Star guitar. If only mom would find it for me, then I could play it every day again. I love the Pop Star!)


She's had the guitar for at least two years. Before receiving the guitar, every time we'd go to Target, she would find it, and press the buttons on the display. She loved it. So I swallowed my distaste, and told Grandma it would be a perfect gift. I believe Grandma had to look at a few stores to finally get it. And it is well loved.


When we first moved into this house, before all the toys were unpacked, and the clutter reigned supreme, it was one of the girls favorite activities: They would march around our area rug, one of them "playing" the guitar while the other sang along. Hours and days of fun have come from the popstar guitar.


And tomorrow we get to watch the movie again. (I'm so excited.) Babs wants a Pop Star Barbie. And pop star boots. And a pop star dress.

She used to have a skirt that she called her pop star skirt. Since it was too small, I passed it on. But today, now that she better understands the awesomeness that is the pop star, she wants another one. Sigh.

no walking or talking

My grandpa tells us not to teach our children to walk or to talk, because it just gets complicated after they learn those things. While I try to take his advice, I've had no luck with this particular piece. But I do recognize that he has a point.

My boy has been babbling sweet nothings behind me in the car for months now (possibly a year...). And I love it - a little background music to my life. But every once in a while I would think "Oh no! Before long there will start to be words, then I will have to listen and respond" and I would sigh, resigned that all in all, talking is a useful skill.

And now it's here.

"Knah-Knah!" "who's there?"

"Pane!" "Do you see a plane?"

"Tuck." "Yes, there's a truck."

"Buhssss." "Oh, I see the bus too."

"Choo-chooo!" "Yes, this is an overpass" (just like the one where the train is).

"Bah." "Yes, you and Babs can both have a Nutty Bar."

"Lub-lub!" "No, I don't have a drink for you. Sorry."


The redeeming side of these simple conversations, is that although I repeat what he says a lot, he's repeating what I say a lot, and adding new words every day.

knock, knock

My children love to tell jokes, even if they're not very good at it. They especially love knock, knock jokes. And they do it often enough (and tell the same jokes enough) that my not quite 2 year old gets in on the game.

Boy: "Nah, nah!" (he will repeat this line as often as necessary to get me to give the proper response)
me: "Who's there?"
Boy: (long pause) "Tow!" (rhymes with cow) (more pause) "Moooo!" then he laughs, because he's cracked himself up. He cracks me up too.

(This is how the joke actually goes:
Knock-knock
Who's there?
The interupting cow
The interu-
MOOOOO!
Teach it to your kids, you can enjoy it forever...)