Friday, November 13, 2009
Language explosion
Two days ago I went to pick my youngest daughter up from day care. She is 13 months old.
As soon as she saw me, as usual, she got a huge grin on her face.
"Hi!" I said.
"'Ow-r-ew" she said.
"How are you?!" I asked.
She got a huge smile on her face as if to say "yahoo! you understood me!" and said "yah."
"Did she just say 'how are you?'" I asked her teacher, Kelly.
"Sounded like it to me," she said.
Woah.
Today, in addition to calling her dinner by name ("be" she said, pointing to a bean), she also picked up a few other words ("Mimi," among others) -- and she wasn't even repeating me!
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Here's tonight's story:
I was watching her play in her toy room. She had a toy hot dog in her mouth.
"Do you like the hot dog, K?"
"ummy" she said.
No kidding. Yummy."
"Wow. Are you talking now?" I asked her.
"eee-up" she said, nodding.
And then she got a smile on her face and shook her head in baby disbelief. ["silly adults. what crazy questions they ask. of course I'm talking, can't she hear it? seriously."]
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Ah, yet another family member to be proud of! Go, Mimi, go!
Are you talking now?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Indoctrination
Steve is doing one tutorial this semester. Every Thursday he gets together with a guy named K- at noon and discusses public finance for an hour.
Today Steve decided to try to squeeze a flu shot in before hand. "It's okay" said I (munching on my lunch) "I'll just hang out in your office, and if K shows up, I'll tell him you'll be right back and give you a call so you know he's here."
K showed up punctually at noon. He looked around the office for Steve. "He'll be right back," I said.
"Oh, okay," said K, "I'll just get the tea started, then."
... "the tea started" ...
As the impressionable young undergrad walked off with the hot pot to get new water, I thought, "Wow, Steve, you've done your job."
Steve later informed me that, since beginning his tutorial, K has not only become a tea drinker himself -- well versed in the differences between white, green, black, and oolong -- K has ALSO introduced all his housemates to the joys of tea.
That's right. Somewhere in this fine town, a group of four or so underclass men are discussing the finer points of tea drinking. K informs Steve that soon they will purchase a house tea pot so that they can brew their tea together each day.
I'm so proud.
Monday, November 02, 2009
E -- The Negotiator
Based on E's performance in properly depositing her excrement (potty training), she is rewarded with candy. The sudden influx of holloween candy has given her options for rewards, which she decided to test today. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Congratulations E! You did it!
E: I get candy now!
Me: Thats right.
E: I want three candies!
Me: actually, you can have either four M&M's, or two holloween candies.
E: I want four holloween candies!
Me: Nice try, but you can have either four M&M's or two holloween candies.
E, deciding to play hardball: I want four holloween candies!
I repeat my ultimatum.
E, seeing the need to compromise replies: I want three holloween candies.
Me: Good try, but I control the candy supply, you are in no position to negotiate.
E: I want three small Halloween candies.
I repeated my terms, and she re-iterated her offer two more times, until finally.
E: I want holloween candies.
Me: Good choice.
In retrospect, I am quite proud that my two-year-old is a rather sophisticated negotiator. I guess this just proves that kids learn skills fast when they have something to gain.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Vainglory
I am a mover. I like to be on the go.
I am a creator. I like to orchestrate and make things.
I want to be an observer. I am a pathetic observer.
I want to be a listener. My own thoughts get in the way.
I've been reminded again and again over this weekend of the value of allowing GOD to move and create; of providing space for the creator to work and me to observe in wonder; of being still and knowing, trusting, beyond myself; of introspection. These are things I don't do well. I am engrossed in vain-glory, entrapped.
Several years ago I saw my father-in-law head out to work. Brief case in hand, dressed in suit and tie, he started down the sidewalk. He didn't get more than ten paces when he stopped, stooped, and stared. No, stared is not quite it. "Observed." He observed, interested, as if what he was looking at was of more importance than catching his bus, than the work he was to do in the city. A butterfly had perched on a flower. He continued to watch for at least a minute. Do you know how long a minute feels to me in those circumstances? So much of me cries "you will be late for work" or "someone is waiting for you" or, simply, "you're on the move, don't stop now." But stop he did. And looked. And wondered without words.
I want to be still. I want to observe a butterfly with wonder. Furthermore, I want to be known by actions more than words.
I have found art.
I am finding silence.
I hereby commit to studying both over the next few weeks.
Art I will study because it is my stepping stone to observation. I create, I move, I do... and yet, in order TO do ART, I must first be still and observe.
Silence is my (perhaps vain) attempt to rid myself of vainglory. I was challenged this weekend to try a modified vow of silence. (Which I will begin after I finish this post -- and may be after tonight's small group study.) No more talking about myself. No more stories, no narration to justify actions, no explaining myself. No posts on facebook that explain my feelings or discuss what brand of toothpaste I tried this morning. Silence. How will one know me? By actions. Do not justify. Let actions justify. And where actions fall short, rest in an identity that is free from human approval.
With this last goal in mind, this post is peppered with irony.
Gosh, art is a lot easier than silence. I am already anticipating failure within the first hour of trying.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
The sweetest not-sweet thing you could say...
E has been pushing bedtime all night. We've all been there, when everything else seems so much more interesting than sleep. So, she's been pushing the boundaries. She's discovered how many times she can play the "I have to go potty" card before mom and dad catch on. Sadly, not nearly as many times as she'd hoped.
So, she's had to branch out.
"I want another bandaid" (for a small rash that really doesn't need a bandaid -- that one didn't fly.)
"I wanta be in yours arms" -- that one is the kicker. She's been crying it for the last forty five seconds. How can one deny the cry of a toddler shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs that she wants to be in yours arms?
Now it has switched to "I want mamma."
dagger.
I think I'll give my daughter ONE MORE hug and kiss goodnight.
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post script.
It worked. She's now eyes closed, drifting off to dream land. I guess she just needed one last touch of affirmation. Ahh... peace and quiet. Now it's my turn.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Mind-reader
When you have a toddler at home, you have to be a bit of a mind-reader. Sometimes the sentences that come out, while I understand all the words, just are not comprehensible. Unless you can read minds.
Yesterday I scored one point on this front.
PUZZLE: E kept referencing the fire pit in the ceiling. She was insistent that there were fire pits in the attic.
SOLUTION: It got cold last week. "Day care" started using their furnace. They have a small tin chimney that I've noticed has been working hard. Every time we drop E off, we see little bits of smoke rising from the roof. She can see that roof from their playground.
The only experience she has had with smoke has been from either burning food or the fire pit in our back yard.
The chimney was spouting smoke in a steady fashion, and nothing smelt like burnt toast, so I guess, given her knowledge base, I might have logically made the same conclusion as well.
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Sometimes I need S to solve the problem. This morning he scored one point.
PUZZLE: E was "just practicing" on the potty. We like to encourage her to do this as long as possible, so we let her read books while she "practices." If she succeeds, she gets to play with a special stuffed bunny all day. "I want to read the book with the bunnies. Lots and lots of bunnies." --- so I brought her the only book I could think we owned where bunnies were the main character. "No, the OTHER book" she said. "WHAT other book?" I asked. "The bunny book. The other bunny book," she said.
SOLUTION: Steve to the rescue. "The book with the little girl, L. The one one where the little girl gets a new sister. 'I'm a Big Sister Now.'" "THAT's the BUNNY book?!" I asked. "Yes, the little girl walks around with a bunny."
Skeptical, I got the book. "Thanks momma!" E exclaimed.
We open the book. The inside of the front and back of the book are papered with pictures of big sister's baby bunny.
I guess S was right.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
A conversation
I'm in an educational policy class.
This morning we were looking forward at what we'd discuss today.
I pointed to the "should we include homework?" part of the future discussion and said to my small group, "My husband wrote his dissertation on this."
"It's pretty much useless, right? Homework?" said my classmate, as if everyone knew the answer already.
"Actually, NO... he found it's extremely effective (at least in math) in decreasing the SES achievement gap."
Hurry up and publish that dissertation of yours, Steve! We all need it.
