Given the unexpectedly beautiful November weather we are experiencing, I decided to take the girls to the park in our town. I was not surprised by the number of people there. I have to admit that I was a bit surprised by the number of high school kids there. I did not have a problem with it. I have to admit that I have always been impressed with the level of politeness displayed by the local kids. Angela was particularly enthralled by a group of high school boys. I noticed her keen interest while we were sitting on one of the benches having a snack. When they moved over to the swings, Angela stood up to have a better look.
"Angela, do you like the boys?" I asked her.
"Yes, Mama, " my two-year-old replied. "They cute."
I am so not looking forward to the teenage years.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Self Identity
When she was younger, Alice did not say her first name. Instead, she would just give a blank look if someone asked her name. I was so jealous of my friends whose children would point to themselves and say, "I insert child name." It was also very anxiety producing for a first time parent. Well, there is a reason why the phrase "Be careful what you wish for" is a truism. God heard my prayers. I am now blessed with a daughter who goes up and introduces herself to EVERYONE. Thank goodness I am not a shy person. I would probably need major doses of anti-anxiety meds to cope with having such an extroverted daughter.
It seems like Angela is following in her sister's footsteps with one major exception. She refers to herself as "Me" or "Me too".
"What is your name?" I asked her.
"Me."
"No, honey, what do you call yourself?" I asked again.
"Me."
I thought about it and I realized I walked right into that last one. She wins. I give up.
It seems like Angela is following in her sister's footsteps with one major exception. She refers to herself as "Me" or "Me too".
"What is your name?" I asked her.
"Me."
"No, honey, what do you call yourself?" I asked again.
"Me."
I thought about it and I realized I walked right into that last one. She wins. I give up.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Remedial Finger Painting
On Tuesday I had "Back to School Night" for preschool. I knew Alice was doing great with her Kindergarten enrichment program there, but I was curious to see how Angela was doing with her "work". As I spoke with Angela's teacher, Ms. K could not say enough about Angela's great personality and her comfort with the environment. She was very impressed with how well and how quickly she adjusted to attending school. However, (why is there always a 'however'?), Angela would not finger paint properly. She will not hold her finger straight out and apply the paint with the finger pad. Instead, Angela bends her finger such that she uses her fingernail bed as her artist's brush.
I was not surprised by this. One of Angela's chief quirks is her dislike of anything liquid based on her hands. She will play in the sand box for hours. She will manipulate Play Doh with no hesitation. But, if a drop of some liquid falls on her hands, she immediately calls for me and demands that I clean her hands off.
As I stood listening to Ms. K, I was, in fact, internally marvelling at Angela's ability to reason and adapt. She figured out a way to finger paint without getting her hands dirty. Had this been Alice, I would probably have freaked out and tried to find some remedial finger painting class to "correct" the problem. Such is the joy of the second child. You realize each child has his/her quirks and they are to be embraced. I told Ms. K not to worry and to just give the kid a brush for painting.
I hope all parent-teacher conferences go so smoothly.
I was not surprised by this. One of Angela's chief quirks is her dislike of anything liquid based on her hands. She will play in the sand box for hours. She will manipulate Play Doh with no hesitation. But, if a drop of some liquid falls on her hands, she immediately calls for me and demands that I clean her hands off.
As I stood listening to Ms. K, I was, in fact, internally marvelling at Angela's ability to reason and adapt. She figured out a way to finger paint without getting her hands dirty. Had this been Alice, I would probably have freaked out and tried to find some remedial finger painting class to "correct" the problem. Such is the joy of the second child. You realize each child has his/her quirks and they are to be embraced. I told Ms. K not to worry and to just give the kid a brush for painting.
I hope all parent-teacher conferences go so smoothly.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Penmenship
Until about five minutes ago, I always thought that I had excellent handwriting.
Alice and I were working together on a homework sheet for her Kindergarten enrichment class. Together we sounded out the letters for the word "book". As Alice paired the sounds and letters, I wrote them on a piece of paper. Alice looked at my printed "book" and informed me that it "looked like a butt." Misunderstanding her reference, I wrote out " B U T T" on the paper next to the word "book".
"Alice, 'book' does not look like 'butt'," I told her.
She laughed and pointed to the "oo" in book. "Mommy, your letters look like a butt."
With new comprehension, I looked at my printed "book" and realized that Alice was correct. I also realized that for the last (fill in the blank) years, I have apparently been mooning my readers whenever I had an "oo" word in handwritten notes. I feel like I should blush, but to hell with modesty. Folks should be happy it is just letters and not the real thing.
Alice and I were working together on a homework sheet for her Kindergarten enrichment class. Together we sounded out the letters for the word "book". As Alice paired the sounds and letters, I wrote them on a piece of paper. Alice looked at my printed "book" and informed me that it "looked like a butt." Misunderstanding her reference, I wrote out " B U T T" on the paper next to the word "book".
"Alice, 'book' does not look like 'butt'," I told her.
She laughed and pointed to the "oo" in book. "Mommy, your letters look like a butt."
With new comprehension, I looked at my printed "book" and realized that Alice was correct. I also realized that for the last (fill in the blank) years, I have apparently been mooning my readers whenever I had an "oo" word in handwritten notes. I feel like I should blush, but to hell with modesty. Folks should be happy it is just letters and not the real thing.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Sweetness
I admit that I am totally biased. The subjects of this blog are my children afterall; but, I had to share some recent instances that either put a smile on my face or caused my heart to swell with emotion.
* * *
My town only does a half day kindergarten. Alice has the afternoon session, so she spends her mornings at her old preschool in a kindergarten enrichment program. I felt like I had to do something school related with her as she attended three full days of preschool last year. I did not want her inaugeration into the "big kid" school to seem like a step backward.
I love picking Alice up for kindergarten because every day I see such an example in kindness and sweetness. Alice gives every one of her classmates a hug before she leaves. The first time I saw this I got rather choked up (and it had nothing to do with hormones). It was so wonderful to see kindness to others right before me especially as it seems like news headlines are filled with the antithesis of kindness. Today she actually chased some poor boy down because he needed to get his hug. Alice is sweet and persistent apparently.
* * *
Alice and Angela will definately be a force to be recokened with as they age. I took them to a playground after school on Monday and watched them at work (or play as the case may be). I loved how they looked out for each other. I kind of expected Alice to keep an eye on Angela because she takes her role of "Big Sister" very seriously. What surprised me was how Angela watched out for Alice. Toward the end of our time at the playground, Alice started playing a game with a little boy around her age. Angela interpreted the game as a threat to her older sister. She kept trying to scare the boy by standing behind him, raising her arms and shouting, "BOO!!!!" Angela should not have worried. The little boy kept trying to avoid Alice because he was convinced she was going to turn him into a ferret.
* * *
My town only does a half day kindergarten. Alice has the afternoon session, so she spends her mornings at her old preschool in a kindergarten enrichment program. I felt like I had to do something school related with her as she attended three full days of preschool last year. I did not want her inaugeration into the "big kid" school to seem like a step backward.
I love picking Alice up for kindergarten because every day I see such an example in kindness and sweetness. Alice gives every one of her classmates a hug before she leaves. The first time I saw this I got rather choked up (and it had nothing to do with hormones). It was so wonderful to see kindness to others right before me especially as it seems like news headlines are filled with the antithesis of kindness. Today she actually chased some poor boy down because he needed to get his hug. Alice is sweet and persistent apparently.
* * *
Alice and Angela will definately be a force to be recokened with as they age. I took them to a playground after school on Monday and watched them at work (or play as the case may be). I loved how they looked out for each other. I kind of expected Alice to keep an eye on Angela because she takes her role of "Big Sister" very seriously. What surprised me was how Angela watched out for Alice. Toward the end of our time at the playground, Alice started playing a game with a little boy around her age. Angela interpreted the game as a threat to her older sister. She kept trying to scare the boy by standing behind him, raising her arms and shouting, "BOO!!!!" Angela should not have worried. The little boy kept trying to avoid Alice because he was convinced she was going to turn him into a ferret.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Reward
Some might say that my love of Trader Joe's borders on obsession. I have to agree. I love their products; but, more importantly, my kids love when we shop there. Happy Kids= Happy Mom. Aside from their obvious enjoyment of the tasting area, they love the perpetual hide and seek game with Mr. Bananas. For those of you who don't know, Mr. Bananas is a stuffed monkey dressed in khaki pants and a Hawaiian shirt. The employees have created a "Missing" poster for him and encourage the children to search for him throughout the store. The reward when they find him is an organic lollipop. With such a reward in the balance, it should surprise no one that Alice has become very adept at finding the missing monkey. Last time we went shopping I was particularly impressed with her abilities. She found him in the rafters of a straw hut which houses the plants for sale. I have to admit that I would not never found him in such a location.
We went to get her reward from the store manager, and Alice took out a second lollipop. I told her that the manager already gave one to Angela.
"I know Mommy," Alice informed me. "I wanted to get one for Daddy. He has been a good boy."
I had to giggle a little bit at that one. She handed the lollipop to me for safekeeping until John came home.
I think he was thrilled with his treat. It is always nice to know that one rates highly enough to earn a lollipop.
We went to get her reward from the store manager, and Alice took out a second lollipop. I told her that the manager already gave one to Angela.
"I know Mommy," Alice informed me. "I wanted to get one for Daddy. He has been a good boy."
I had to giggle a little bit at that one. She handed the lollipop to me for safekeeping until John came home.
I think he was thrilled with his treat. It is always nice to know that one rates highly enough to earn a lollipop.
Friday, September 2, 2011
The Munchkin Monster Strikes...
Hurricane Irene left us without electricity for 36 hours. I was okay without the television. The lack of lights was a nuisance but manageable. The thing that drove me toward madness was lack of tea. Not only do I use an electric kettle to boil my water, but my kitchen stove is electric. Knowing my penchant for the leaves (and experiencing first hand my "pleasant" personality due to withdrawal), my dear hubby kindly went to Dunkin' Donuts to purchase their largest container of tea for me. While he was there, he decided to get a large box of munchkins. He thought the kids might enjoy picking on them.
For Angela that was an understatement.
Both John and I found her several times at the kitchen table digging in the box of sugary holes. We would quietly sneak up on her and ask, "Angela, what are you doing?" when we reached her side. I loved how she tried to pass off our discoveries with nonchalance and a sweet smile. But even those two things could not disguise the chipmunk checks she now possessed and the donut crumbs around her mouth.
We were not angry at her. However, Angela must have figured out that cramming her mouth full with donut holes might potentially cause her parental grief. Her tactic- to hide her snacking through camouflage. Instead of eating the whole munchkin, she would take one bite of it and put it back into the box. I guess she thought we were just counting the number of items in the box and we would not notice the large bite in each one.
I am not sure if I should be amused or scared by her logic. Part of me is impressed, but I am left to wonder....is this the sign of a potential criminal mastermind? Am I going to have to worry about her hacking into millions of bank accounts, taking a nickle, and hiding her ill gotten gains in some Swiss bank account?
The only thought that consoles me is that perhaps her behavior is genetic.
If Angela is the Munchkin Monster then Alice is the Muffin Monster. I have never seen a kid so crazy for muffins. I once made these apple whole wheat muffins for breakfast. We had about six left over. I left them on the counter to cool completely before storing them. A few hours later, I went into the kitchen to put the leftovers in a container. There were two left. I walked into John's office and asked, "Not that I care, but did you eat all those muffins?" He looked surprised and informed me that he didn't. This left us with only one other suspect as Angela was not born yet and Puggie is not springy enough to reach the kitchen counter. Another time I actually got the leftover muffins into a tin. Regardless, they were not safe there. When I went to eat one I discovered that all six muffin tops had been devoured. The Muffin Monster's fingerprints were all over this one again.
More proof for the genetic argument comes from the conversation I had with my sister Megan about these instances. Oddly enough while she listened to my stories, she had opened a box of muffins and was eating the top off one of them.
Genetic pools have lots of strange quirks floating around them.
For Angela that was an understatement.
Both John and I found her several times at the kitchen table digging in the box of sugary holes. We would quietly sneak up on her and ask, "Angela, what are you doing?" when we reached her side. I loved how she tried to pass off our discoveries with nonchalance and a sweet smile. But even those two things could not disguise the chipmunk checks she now possessed and the donut crumbs around her mouth.
We were not angry at her. However, Angela must have figured out that cramming her mouth full with donut holes might potentially cause her parental grief. Her tactic- to hide her snacking through camouflage. Instead of eating the whole munchkin, she would take one bite of it and put it back into the box. I guess she thought we were just counting the number of items in the box and we would not notice the large bite in each one.
I am not sure if I should be amused or scared by her logic. Part of me is impressed, but I am left to wonder....is this the sign of a potential criminal mastermind? Am I going to have to worry about her hacking into millions of bank accounts, taking a nickle, and hiding her ill gotten gains in some Swiss bank account?
The only thought that consoles me is that perhaps her behavior is genetic.
If Angela is the Munchkin Monster then Alice is the Muffin Monster. I have never seen a kid so crazy for muffins. I once made these apple whole wheat muffins for breakfast. We had about six left over. I left them on the counter to cool completely before storing them. A few hours later, I went into the kitchen to put the leftovers in a container. There were two left. I walked into John's office and asked, "Not that I care, but did you eat all those muffins?" He looked surprised and informed me that he didn't. This left us with only one other suspect as Angela was not born yet and Puggie is not springy enough to reach the kitchen counter. Another time I actually got the leftover muffins into a tin. Regardless, they were not safe there. When I went to eat one I discovered that all six muffin tops had been devoured. The Muffin Monster's fingerprints were all over this one again.
More proof for the genetic argument comes from the conversation I had with my sister Megan about these instances. Oddly enough while she listened to my stories, she had opened a box of muffins and was eating the top off one of them.
Genetic pools have lots of strange quirks floating around them.
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