"How old are you, Dad?" Nathan asked me this morning.
"11," I replied, to evoke a reaction.
"No, you're not 11!" he said.
"12?"
"No!"
"How old do you think I am?"
He mused. "16,000?"
I laughed. "Well, pretty close."
"Come on, how old are you really?"
"38," I replied, not trying to evoke a reaction.
"38! Wow, that's really, really, old!" he said.
I remember when I used to think the same thing.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Wait a minute!
Jen was putting Nate to sleep, as is our custom, by reading him a book and then doing short prayers. We've now incorporated Susanna's idea into the routine--asking Jesus, "What do you want to say to us tonight?" We didn't know if four-and-a-half years old was too young to "get it," but...well, I'll let you judge for yourself.
Jen and Nathan had each shared the best and worst parts of their day with each other, and prayed for various friends and family members. They listened to Jesus together for a brief moment.
"Well, what do you think Jesus said?" she asked.
He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I fink I heard Jesus say...'The force be with you!'"
Jen did a double-take, then saw him smiling. "Jesus didn't say that!" she laughed.
"No," he agreed. "I'm just joking. I think he said, 'I am always with you.'"
"That does sound like Jesus," she affirmed. "He is always with us."
Jen and Nathan had each shared the best and worst parts of their day with each other, and prayed for various friends and family members. They listened to Jesus together for a brief moment.
"Well, what do you think Jesus said?" she asked.
He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I fink I heard Jesus say...'The force be with you!'"
Jen did a double-take, then saw him smiling. "Jesus didn't say that!" she laughed.
"No," he agreed. "I'm just joking. I think he said, 'I am always with you.'"
"That does sound like Jesus," she affirmed. "He is always with us."
Riddle: How is a 2-year-old like a train?
"Choo-choo!" exclaimed Michael, as if were his first time seeing a real, live train. Actually, we see these same trains every week or two when we go to Grandma & Papa's house. I long for that ability to so live in the present that, like a small child, I can always enjoy my current experience as if it were my first time. But my story's gotten derailed.
"Choo-choo nigh-night," he observed. Indeed, the train was dark and sitting still on the tracks. He expanded on his point: "Dat choo-choo not going, choo-choo nigh-night. That choo-choo doe nigh-night dust wike me!"
I laughed. "Yes, the train does go to sleep, just like you." I hadn't seen if from that perspective...
"Choo-choo nigh-night," he observed. Indeed, the train was dark and sitting still on the tracks. He expanded on his point: "Dat choo-choo not going, choo-choo nigh-night. That choo-choo doe nigh-night dust wike me!"
I laughed. "Yes, the train does go to sleep, just like you." I hadn't seen if from that perspective...
How to Make Tonic
All week Susanna and Nate have been running outside to make tonics. The other day I found the recipe 8-year-old Susanna had written on a neatly folded piece of lined paper, in purple marker:
How to make tonic
First, skin it.
Sec. put on tree.
Third, rubb it.
Fourth, water it
Fith, lick it
Sixth, felle better
I don't know what it cures, and I don't even know what the main ingredient is...but sounds a little scary to me.
How to make tonic
First, skin it.
Sec. put on tree.
Third, rubb it.
Fourth, water it
Fith, lick it
Sixth, felle better
I don't know what it cures, and I don't even know what the main ingredient is...but sounds a little scary to me.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
2 Bits... (Or, More Adventures in Toddlerese)
"Na-Nay's dun!" exclaimed Michael.
"Nathan has a gun?" I clarified.
"No, Na-Nay's dun!" he repeated.
"You want Nathan's gun?" I tried again. This familiar process often takes 5-10 attempts before we successfully establish the communication breakthrough.
"No! Na-Nay's . . . ummmm, Nathan's finished!" he said, trying a different tactic.
"Oh, he's DONE!" I finally got it.
"Yes!" he said, elated. That is what he had said!
"Nathan has a gun?" I clarified.
"No, Na-Nay's dun!" he repeated.
"You want Nathan's gun?" I tried again. This familiar process often takes 5-10 attempts before we successfully establish the communication breakthrough.
"No! Na-Nay's . . . ummmm, Nathan's finished!" he said, trying a different tactic.
"Oh, he's DONE!" I finally got it.
"Yes!" he said, elated. That is what he had said!
"Dat duck-duck-wain fowest."
"Duck-Duck-Rain forest? Is that a game you play?"
"No, dat duck-duck-wain fowest."
"Uhh...I don't know what you're saying."
"Dat dup duck wain fowest."
"Hmmm,...Where is it?" Sometimes context helps me with the decoding.
"Over dere!" Mike pointed at a large (and I do mean large) oak tree--it had a spread of about 80-90 feet.
"Oh, that's not a rain forest, that's a tree... Oh!" The light bulb went on for me. "Do you mean 'That deep dark rain forest?'"
"Yes!" Ahh, the sweet taste of victory. These are great moments for us.
"Duck-Duck-Rain forest? Is that a game you play?"
"No, dat duck-duck-wain fowest."
"Uhh...I don't know what you're saying."
"Dat dup duck wain fowest."
"Hmmm,...Where is it?" Sometimes context helps me with the decoding.
"Over dere!" Mike pointed at a large (and I do mean large) oak tree--it had a spread of about 80-90 feet.
"Oh, that's not a rain forest, that's a tree... Oh!" The light bulb went on for me. "Do you mean 'That deep dark rain forest?'"
"Yes!" Ahh, the sweet taste of victory. These are great moments for us.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Toddler Question
Michael built what looked (to my naive eyes) like a tower out of megablocks.
"I need to take a pitcha!" he told me.
"Oh, is that a camera?" I asked.
"Uh-huh. How do you boot up mine tama?" he asked.
I guess these days cameras do need to be booted up--as every two-year-old knows.
"I need to take a pitcha!" he told me.
"Oh, is that a camera?" I asked.
"Uh-huh. How do you boot up mine tama?" he asked.
I guess these days cameras do need to be booted up--as every two-year-old knows.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Don't Bug Me
Since Susanna's friend introduced us to the game, we spot VW Bugs, PT Cruisers and convertibles of every kind where ever we go. Saturday I decided to mix it up a little bit when I was driving with Susanna.
Susanna: Bug!
Me: Aaack! Where?! Is it on me? (Slapping at my back and shoulders) I hate bugs!!
Susanna (laughing): Dad! You're acting just like Mommy. (Moments later, spotting another one) Bug!
Me: AAack! Spbltssppptt!! Yuck! Where? Is it in my mouth? Spppllltt! Yuck! I hate bugs! (It worked--I did get another satisfying laugh.)
Susanna: Cruiser!
Me (predictably): Aaack! Where? (Slapping at my back and shoulders) I hate Cruisers!
(I'll omit some brief conversation in the interlude between bugs and Cruisers)
Susanna: Bug!
Me: I don't believe you. You're just trying to scare me!
We can be pretty silly now and then.
Susanna: Bug!
Me: Aaack! Where?! Is it on me? (Slapping at my back and shoulders) I hate bugs!!
Susanna (laughing): Dad! You're acting just like Mommy. (Moments later, spotting another one) Bug!
Me: AAack! Spbltssppptt!! Yuck! Where? Is it in my mouth? Spppllltt! Yuck! I hate bugs! (It worked--I did get another satisfying laugh.)
Susanna: Cruiser!
Me (predictably): Aaack! Where? (Slapping at my back and shoulders) I hate Cruisers!
(I'll omit some brief conversation in the interlude between bugs and Cruisers)
Susanna: Bug!
Me: I don't believe you. You're just trying to scare me!
We can be pretty silly now and then.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Control Issues
The very next night we did the same routine, but Susanna was not in the room with us.
I asked Nathan, "What was your favorite part of the day?"
He replied, "Can I ask Michael something?"
I agreed, so he addressed his brother in stern tones: "Michael, do NOT talk about the Star Wars Legos game. You can't keep saying that!"
No response from Mike on my right side, but I remarked, "Well, Nathan, we can't control him, but now he knows you don't want him to talk about that. Now, do you want to tell us the best part of your day?"
"My best part was playing Lego Star Wars at our cousin's house today." (We had visited ANOTHER cousin, who has ANOTHER version of it.) I was thankful for the darkness hiding my smile at the irony here.
"Michael, what was your favorite part of the day?"
"Hmmmmm . . . I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
From my left erupted an enraged roar, then: "Michael! I told you not to talk about that!"
No one likes to be controlled, but if we're honest, most of us would like to control the people around us, wouldn't we? We just get more sophisticated as we grow older . . .
I asked Nathan, "What was your favorite part of the day?"
He replied, "Can I ask Michael something?"
I agreed, so he addressed his brother in stern tones: "Michael, do NOT talk about the Star Wars Legos game. You can't keep saying that!"
No response from Mike on my right side, but I remarked, "Well, Nathan, we can't control him, but now he knows you don't want him to talk about that. Now, do you want to tell us the best part of your day?"
"My best part was playing Lego Star Wars at our cousin's house today." (We had visited ANOTHER cousin, who has ANOTHER version of it.) I was thankful for the darkness hiding my smile at the irony here.
"Michael, what was your favorite part of the day?"
"Hmmmmm . . . I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
From my left erupted an enraged roar, then: "Michael! I told you not to talk about that!"
No one likes to be controlled, but if we're honest, most of us would like to control the people around us, wouldn't we? We just get more sophisticated as we grow older . . .
Friday, January 18, 2008
Compline
Our family had a very nice winter break, staying with good friends who took great care of us. While mommy was away for several days at a conference, the 3 kids and dad slept in one room. I decided to adapt Susanna's bedtime prayer routine for use with the younger boys, which resulted in a unique and amusing experience. Though a little long for the blog, I think it's worth the telling.
Picture a darkened room with a child in one small bed, and myself and the other two children on mattresses on the floor. One by one I asked them, "What was your favorite part of the day?"
Susanna: "My favorite part of today was being at my cousin Kristie's house."
Dad: "My favorite part was talking with Uncle Pete, Aunt Susan, and Aunt Tina."
Nate: "My favorite part was playing Lego Star Wers on the computer with John. I got to be Luke Skywalker, and I got to be a droid, and I got to be the Empire, and I got to be a storm trooper, and I got to be the Emperor." Nate waxed eloquent about the computer game until I gently ended his soliloquy.
"What about you, Michael?"
Mike: "Hummmmmm, mine favite part was I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
Nathan: "What did he say?"
Me: "He says he was Luke, he was a droid, he was the Emperor. Now let's each say the worst part of our day."
Susanna: "My worst part was when I got hurt."
Nathan: "My worst part was when someone spoke rudely to me and hurt my feewings."
Me: "Michael, what was your worst part of today?"
Mike: "Hummm, mine woost part, I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
"Alright, thank you Michael. Now let's all be quiet and listen to Jesus for a minute. Jesus, is there anything you want to say to us?" After a brief moment, "I think I heard Jesus say, 'I love you, and I have all of you in my hands.' Susanna, what did you hear?"
Susanna: "I heard, 'I love you and I'm holding you in my hand."
Me: "Wow--that's almost the same," (which is unusual) "and it does sound like Jesus. What about you, Nate?"
Nathan: "I heard, 'Don't hit, don't push, don't bite, and there is no such thing as being rude."
Susanna: "I think you mean, 'Don't be rude.'"
Nathan: "Yeah, 'Don't be rude.'"
Me: "Those are good rules. How about you, Michael?"
Mike: "Hummmmmmmmmm. I be Wuke, I be Empwew, I be doid."
We sang our nightly prayer song, and I fell asleep amused and grateful for the joys of parenting an 8-year-old, 4-year-old, and 2-year-old. It's a great perspective on the world.
Picture a darkened room with a child in one small bed, and myself and the other two children on mattresses on the floor. One by one I asked them, "What was your favorite part of the day?"
Susanna: "My favorite part of today was being at my cousin Kristie's house."
Dad: "My favorite part was talking with Uncle Pete, Aunt Susan, and Aunt Tina."
Nate: "My favorite part was playing Lego Star Wers on the computer with John. I got to be Luke Skywalker, and I got to be a droid, and I got to be the Empire, and I got to be a storm trooper, and I got to be the Emperor." Nate waxed eloquent about the computer game until I gently ended his soliloquy.
"What about you, Michael?"
Mike: "Hummmmmm, mine favite part was I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
Nathan: "What did he say?"
Me: "He says he was Luke, he was a droid, he was the Emperor. Now let's each say the worst part of our day."
Susanna: "My worst part was when I got hurt."
Nathan: "My worst part was when someone spoke rudely to me and hurt my feewings."
Me: "Michael, what was your worst part of today?"
Mike: "Hummm, mine woost part, I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
"Alright, thank you Michael. Now let's all be quiet and listen to Jesus for a minute. Jesus, is there anything you want to say to us?" After a brief moment, "I think I heard Jesus say, 'I love you, and I have all of you in my hands.' Susanna, what did you hear?"
Susanna: "I heard, 'I love you and I'm holding you in my hand."
Me: "Wow--that's almost the same," (which is unusual) "and it does sound like Jesus. What about you, Nate?"
Nathan: "I heard, 'Don't hit, don't push, don't bite, and there is no such thing as being rude."
Susanna: "I think you mean, 'Don't be rude.'"
Nathan: "Yeah, 'Don't be rude.'"
Me: "Those are good rules. How about you, Michael?"
Mike: "Hummmmmmmmmm. I be Wuke, I be Empwew, I be doid."
We sang our nightly prayer song, and I fell asleep amused and grateful for the joys of parenting an 8-year-old, 4-year-old, and 2-year-old. It's a great perspective on the world.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Toddler-English Lexicon
(All entries thanks to Michael, the expert two-year-old in our house.)
Pie Dough Man: Popular superhero. "Me have pie dough man jammies!" (Hint: Pie dough man, pie dough man; does whatever a pie dough can!)
Dough, Eggo, Dough!: Popular kid's show. "Me want us watch Dough Eggo!" "Oh, you want to watch 'Go, Diego, Go!' ?"
Oooze: to employ any object for it's function
Taw: 1. Vehicle. "You dive mama's taw?" 2. Musical instrument. "Me want you ooze youse taw." "You want me to use the car?" "No, taw!" "Huh? A cow?" "No, taw! Youse taw!" "Show me." (He leads me by the hand into the study and points.) "Oh, you want me to use the guitar!" "Uh-huh!"
Donup: "Me donup wike you. Wike Mommy." "You're a grownup like me and mommy?" "Yes me do." "You do what?" "Me donup."
Bad duy: villains. "Me see bad duys!"
Dove: protective hand wear. "Me weaw mine bad duy doves, Daddy." Maybe all bad guys wear gloves? I don't know.
Pie Dough Man: Popular superhero. "Me have pie dough man jammies!" (Hint: Pie dough man, pie dough man; does whatever a pie dough can!)
Dough, Eggo, Dough!: Popular kid's show. "Me want us watch Dough Eggo!" "Oh, you want to watch 'Go, Diego, Go!' ?"
Oooze: to employ any object for it's function
Taw: 1. Vehicle. "You dive mama's taw?" 2. Musical instrument. "Me want you ooze youse taw." "You want me to use the car?" "No, taw!" "Huh? A cow?" "No, taw! Youse taw!" "Show me." (He leads me by the hand into the study and points.) "Oh, you want me to use the guitar!" "Uh-huh!"
Donup: "Me donup wike you. Wike Mommy." "You're a grownup like me and mommy?" "Yes me do." "You do what?" "Me donup."
Bad duy: villains. "Me see bad duys!"
Dove: protective hand wear. "Me weaw mine bad duy doves, Daddy." Maybe all bad guys wear gloves? I don't know.
Monday, December 31, 2007
A Christmas Eve Memory
A little interaction between our kids on Christmas eve reveals how much they've imbibed the Christmas spirit.
Susanna was explaining, "A boy said to me, 'Put that down, little girl!' I told him, 'Don't call me a little girl! I'm bigger than you.'"
"Was he in third grade?" I asked.
"No, he's in first grade," she replied, indignant.
At this point four-year-old Nate piped in with his advice: "Next time you see him, tell him, 'You want a piece of me?!' Then do something to him."
Nice to see all our hard work to instill Christian virtues of kindness and peacemaking is sinking in!
Susanna was explaining, "A boy said to me, 'Put that down, little girl!' I told him, 'Don't call me a little girl! I'm bigger than you.'"
"Was he in third grade?" I asked.
"No, he's in first grade," she replied, indignant.
At this point four-year-old Nate piped in with his advice: "Next time you see him, tell him, 'You want a piece of me?!' Then do something to him."
Nice to see all our hard work to instill Christian virtues of kindness and peacemaking is sinking in!
Friday, December 21, 2007
Tongue Twisters
"Nathan, tell mommy the hard word you discovered yesterday!" I encouraged my son.
He responded eagerly. "Diff ceferticack."
"What?" asked Jen, confused.
"Sift derfissticate," he tried again. "Dist fersiffisate."
"He figured out it's hard to say 'Gift certificate,'" I translated diplomatically.
He grew weary of saying it after we had asked him to repeat it about ten times. So we turned to the two and a half year old. "Michael, can you say 'gift certificate?'"
Without batting an eye, he said, clear as a bell, "No." Open-and-shut case.
A minute later, Nathan disputed a slight exaggeration his mom had made. "You're my little littlerist!" she laughed.
I laughed, too. "What did you say?"
"Little littlelerist."
"Huh?" asked Nate.
I clarified for him: "Mommy's trying to say literalist. Little liratilist." We both laughed. "Wow, that is hard to say!"
"I'm saying it!" Jen insisted. "Little littlerist! See?" After you say it a few times, that starts sounding right. If you don't believe me, try it.
He responded eagerly. "Diff ceferticack."
"What?" asked Jen, confused.
"Sift derfissticate," he tried again. "Dist fersiffisate."
"He figured out it's hard to say 'Gift certificate,'" I translated diplomatically.
He grew weary of saying it after we had asked him to repeat it about ten times. So we turned to the two and a half year old. "Michael, can you say 'gift certificate?'"
Without batting an eye, he said, clear as a bell, "No." Open-and-shut case.
A minute later, Nathan disputed a slight exaggeration his mom had made. "You're my little littlerist!" she laughed.
I laughed, too. "What did you say?"
"Little littlelerist."
"Huh?" asked Nate.
I clarified for him: "Mommy's trying to say literalist. Little liratilist." We both laughed. "Wow, that is hard to say!"
"I'm saying it!" Jen insisted. "Little littlerist! See?" After you say it a few times, that starts sounding right. If you don't believe me, try it.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Timmas Tumming!
"Tismas whites! Tismas whites!" I heard a small excited voice call out from behind me as I drove.
Michael has been practicing for an important (if only seasonal) job. "Mo timmas whites!"
"Yes, there are more Christmas lights!" I agreed, as we passed another brightly lit house.
We turned a corner. "Uh-oh, no me see no mo timmas whites anywhewe!" No laxness here: the most conscientious color-commentators don't settle for merely highlighting the place which do have lights.
"Hey! Mo tismas whites!" Whew, situation resolved. We're back to normal. "Us have Tismas whites, Daddy? Us have Tismas whites?"
"Yes, we have Christmas lights." I respond, knowing he will continue to ask until he gets satisfaction.
I think he'll get the job. He'll do it, whether we ask him to or not. But I must say, I am enjoying the Christmas season more regularly and more thoroughly this year. Our children's enthusiasm is infectious. And I wuv dat.
Michael has been practicing for an important (if only seasonal) job. "Mo timmas whites!"
"Yes, there are more Christmas lights!" I agreed, as we passed another brightly lit house.
We turned a corner. "Uh-oh, no me see no mo timmas whites anywhewe!" No laxness here: the most conscientious color-commentators don't settle for merely highlighting the place which do have lights.
"Hey! Mo tismas whites!" Whew, situation resolved. We're back to normal. "Us have Tismas whites, Daddy? Us have Tismas whites?"
"Yes, we have Christmas lights." I respond, knowing he will continue to ask until he gets satisfaction.
I think he'll get the job. He'll do it, whether we ask him to or not. But I must say, I am enjoying the Christmas season more regularly and more thoroughly this year. Our children's enthusiasm is infectious. And I wuv dat.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
From the Wonder-What-They-Said Dept.
Michael's been stuffed up with a cold recently. The other morning he told his mom,
"Mommy, mine boogohs talking to me."
"Mommy, mine boogohs talking to me."
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Double Trouble
The day after his eye surgery, Nathan looked at me across the room. "Hey! There are two daddies!"
His mom, next to him, asked, "How many mommies do you see?"
He studied her for a minute. "One."
Just then Michael walked--okay, ran--into the room. "Hey! There's two Michaels! That's funny!" He started cracking up.
The next day the surgeon told us this was normal, until the brain was able to integrate the two images into one again. But Nathan enjoyed it while it lasted.
The next morning, he walked into the living room and surveyed his sister, sitting on the couch. "Hey, there's two Susannas, one on top of the other!"
She immediately began pummeling the air. "Hey, get off me! Get off me!"
A week later, he only sees one of each of us. Though I'm glad his vision's normal, I kind of miss being in two places at once.
His mom, next to him, asked, "How many mommies do you see?"
He studied her for a minute. "One."
Just then Michael walked--okay, ran--into the room. "Hey! There's two Michaels! That's funny!" He started cracking up.
The next day the surgeon told us this was normal, until the brain was able to integrate the two images into one again. But Nathan enjoyed it while it lasted.
The next morning, he walked into the living room and surveyed his sister, sitting on the couch. "Hey, there's two Susannas, one on top of the other!"
She immediately began pummeling the air. "Hey, get off me! Get off me!"
A week later, he only sees one of each of us. Though I'm glad his vision's normal, I kind of miss being in two places at once.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
You Can Count on Them
"Owwie! Me huwt mine sumb!"
"Oh, did you hurt your thumb, Michael?" asked Jen.
"Yes, me huwt mine baby sumb."
"Your baby thumb? What's your baby thumb?"
He held up his little finger.
"That's your baby thumb? What's this one?" Jen pointed to his thumb.
"Sumb."
"What's this one called?" She pointed to his index finger.
"Pinkie." Turns out he has three pinkies, between his thumb and his baby thumb! :-)
Have a very happy Thanksgiving! (And if you were worried, his baby thumb got better.)
"Oh, did you hurt your thumb, Michael?" asked Jen.
"Yes, me huwt mine baby sumb."
"Your baby thumb? What's your baby thumb?"
He held up his little finger.
"That's your baby thumb? What's this one?" Jen pointed to his thumb.
"Sumb."
"What's this one called?" She pointed to his index finger.
"Pinkie." Turns out he has three pinkies, between his thumb and his baby thumb! :-)
Have a very happy Thanksgiving! (And if you were worried, his baby thumb got better.)
Monday, November 19, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Toddler-English English-Toddler Dictionary
babas: n. a plastic container equipped with a nipple for feeding babies: do mine babas?
boo: adj. color between green and violet: da die is boo.
dandle: n. a cylinder or block of wax with a wick that is lit to produce light as it burns: me bwow out youse dandle.
dean: adj. free from dirt, marks, or stains. v. make something or someone free from dirt or mess by washing or wiping: mine boo babas dean?
die: n. the region of the atmosphere and outer space seen from the earth: me see moon up in die.
debt (det): v. acquire, come to have or hold something: Mama debt dandle?
do (doe): v. move from one place to another. Often used as an abbreviated form of the question, "Where is": do mine hapa?
hapa: n. a round fruit of a tree of the rose family, usually with red, yellow or green skin and crisp flesh. May be used for dessert, cooking fruit, or making cider: me want hapa.
nap: n. an opaque white drink rich in fat and protein produced by cows and other female mammals: dadda debt mo nap?
peas: adv. used in polite requests or questions: peas debt me mine nigh-night; used to add urgency and emotion to a request: mine nigh-night peas! mine nigh-night peas!
tease: n. a dairy food made from the pressed curds of milk: me want mo tease peas.
verbal: n. a car with a folding or detachable roof: me see verbal!
who: n. a vehicle carrying firefighters and equipment for fighting fires. Makes the sound "whoooo!": mama set up mine who, peas?
Thursday, November 15, 2007
"Daddy, today we made Challah!" Nathan exclaimed when I picked him up from preschool. Their class at the Jewish preschool was focusing on Shabbat (the sabbath) for the week, and the kids actually got to make Challah, the special braided Shabbat bread. Picturing a roomful of 12 squirrelly 4-year-old bakers, I had to smile.
He continued. "I have a good idea. Maybe we can make Challah at home!"
"I don't know how," I said.
"First, we have to have ingredients," he said.
"That sounds right to me," I said, still dubious.
"Yup. You make it with ingredients." Then he fell silent, and I assumed the case was closed. An open-and-shut deal. But after a minute, he piped up from the back seat and surprised me.
"First we take sugar and hot water," he said. "You can't eat the sugar. If you eat it, then you can't make Challah."
"Okay," I went along with it for the sake of argument.
"Then you need eggs and flour and salt, and oil. You mix it together until it gets real hard." Unbidden, into my mind popped a picture of something like a hard-dried lump of pale play-dough.
"Then you pound it and pound it and pound it." Tables of squirrelly preschoolers pounding their lumps of dough.
"Then you braid it. You have to put it over and through, over and through, over and through." I was following him.
"Then you have to leave it to rise until tomorrow."
I was quite impressed at the effectiveness of the preschool's teaching! If we'd followed his recipe, the lack of yeast would have sabotaged us, but otherwise it seemed like my 4-year-old had actually learned how to make bread. Our whole family enjoyed the loaf he brought home the next day, and I was even more impressed. It was excellent. Now if only he could internalize and follow directions for using the bathroom that well . . .
He continued. "I have a good idea. Maybe we can make Challah at home!"
"I don't know how," I said.
"First, we have to have ingredients," he said.
"That sounds right to me," I said, still dubious.
"Yup. You make it with ingredients." Then he fell silent, and I assumed the case was closed. An open-and-shut deal. But after a minute, he piped up from the back seat and surprised me.
"First we take sugar and hot water," he said. "You can't eat the sugar. If you eat it, then you can't make Challah."
"Okay," I went along with it for the sake of argument.
"Then you need eggs and flour and salt, and oil. You mix it together until it gets real hard." Unbidden, into my mind popped a picture of something like a hard-dried lump of pale play-dough.
"Then you pound it and pound it and pound it." Tables of squirrelly preschoolers pounding their lumps of dough.
"Then you braid it. You have to put it over and through, over and through, over and through." I was following him.
"Then you have to leave it to rise until tomorrow."
I was quite impressed at the effectiveness of the preschool's teaching! If we'd followed his recipe, the lack of yeast would have sabotaged us, but otherwise it seemed like my 4-year-old had actually learned how to make bread. Our whole family enjoyed the loaf he brought home the next day, and I was even more impressed. It was excellent. Now if only he could internalize and follow directions for using the bathroom that well . . .
Monday, November 12, 2007
Peanut Gallery
Today in the car Michael yelled out (and I do mean yelled--this boy has lungs!) "Vewdiva!"
Hmm?
"Vewdiva!" "Duza!" "Duza!" "Bug!"
Oh . . . he's joined the game! Convertible, Cruiser, Bug!
Hmm?
"Vewdiva!" "Duza!" "Duza!" "Bug!"
Oh . . . he's joined the game! Convertible, Cruiser, Bug!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Alter Ego
Last week when I posted the costume photos, Nathan asked me not to put the pictures of him on the computer.
This week he released the rights to it, or at least granted his permission--so here they are. (Click them to see larger size.)
This week he released the rights to it, or at least granted his permission--so here they are. (Click them to see larger size.)
How's that again?
Our family's become expert at spotting VW bugs, PT Cruisers, and convertibles in the past month, after Susanna's friend Abby taught her the game. Every conversation in the car is now punctuated with comments such as "Cruiser!" or "I saw it first!" "No you didn't!" and so on. It's very relaxing.
Nathan's 4-year-old contribution has been to call out "Bug!" or "convertible" with no reference to reality.
But on the way to school the other morning, it dawned on him that the little yellow VW bug on our porch is the same as the bugs that his sister calls. So he made his first actual sighting.
"Yellow bug! I saw a yellow bug!"
"Good job, Nathan!" I encouraged him. Then he delivered the coup de grace,
"I know which one is not which one, and which one is which one."
Nathan's 4-year-old contribution has been to call out "Bug!" or "convertible" with no reference to reality.
But on the way to school the other morning, it dawned on him that the little yellow VW bug on our porch is the same as the bugs that his sister calls. So he made his first actual sighting.
"Yellow bug! I saw a yellow bug!"
"Good job, Nathan!" I encouraged him. Then he delivered the coup de grace,
"I know which one is not which one, and which one is which one."
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Toddlerese
Understanding each other is hard enough, even when we're face to face and can pick up facial expressions and body language, which psychologists say carry 60% of the communication.
When I'm driving, I'm deprived of that 60% because the 2-year-old sits right behind me. Not to mention that since I'm driving in L.A. 90% of my brain has to be devoted to the road . . .
Michael: Me wissen dum dah.
Me (thinking, Ooh, this should be easy. I already got the first two words!): You want to listen to something?
Michael: Uh-huh! Me wissen dum dah.
Me: You want to listen to . . . uh . . .
Michael: Me wissen dum dah!
Me: uh . . . do you want to listen to Finding Nemo?
Michael (amused at Daddy's typical silliness): No Nemo! Dum dah!
Me: Snow White?
Michael (with the tone of You idiot!): No, dum dah. Dum dah!
Michael (now irate): No! No! Dum dah! Dum dah!
Me (smart enough, at least, not to suggest Veggie Tales, which is "Dedgie" in Michael-speak, and deciding to switch strategies): Do you want to listen to a story?
Michael: No! Dum Dah!
Me: Do you want music?
Michael: Yeth! Dum dah!
Me (relieved that now it's just a process of elimination): Do you want Kirk Franklin?
Michael: No! Me wissen dum dah!
Me: Chris Tomlin?
Michael (in tears): No!
Me (the light dawning): Tim McGraw?
Michael: Yeth! Dum Dah! Dum Dah!
I've never been so ecstatic about putting the Tim McGraw cd in the player.
When I'm driving, I'm deprived of that 60% because the 2-year-old sits right behind me. Not to mention that since I'm driving in L.A. 90% of my brain has to be devoted to the road . . .
Michael: Me wissen dum dah.
Me (thinking, Ooh, this should be easy. I already got the first two words!): You want to listen to something?
Michael: Uh-huh! Me wissen dum dah.
Me: You want to listen to . . . uh . . .
Michael: Me wissen dum dah!
Me: uh . . . do you want to listen to Finding Nemo?
Michael (amused at Daddy's typical silliness): No Nemo! Dum dah!
Me: Snow White?
Michael (with the tone of You idiot!): No, dum dah. Dum dah!
Michael (now irate): No! No! Dum dah! Dum dah!
Me (smart enough, at least, not to suggest Veggie Tales, which is "Dedgie" in Michael-speak, and deciding to switch strategies): Do you want to listen to a story?
Michael: No! Dum Dah!
Me: Do you want music?
Michael: Yeth! Dum dah!
Me (relieved that now it's just a process of elimination): Do you want Kirk Franklin?
Michael: No! Me wissen dum dah!
Me: Chris Tomlin?
Michael (in tears): No!
Me (the light dawning): Tim McGraw?
Michael: Yeth! Dum Dah! Dum Dah!
I've never been so ecstatic about putting the Tim McGraw cd in the player.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
"My Nice Bed"
Today Nathan ceded his old toddler bed to his brother.
"Me wike my nice bed."
"Double me up! (Cover me up!)"
"Dada dake mine dib away. (Daddy took my crib away.)"
I had mastered climbing in and out of my crib.
My new toddler bed is so much easier to climb in and out of!
Lost in Translation
Having a two-year-old is like living in another country. Even the most basic communications can be grueling, taking enormous energy and time. For example, on the way home from school the other day. . .
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White?
Me: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White?
Me: Daddy's something white?
Michael: No! Dadda. Tap. White.
Me: Daddy's . . . uh . . .
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White!
Me: Sorry, Michael, I can't understand!
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White! Dadda. Tap. White!
Out of pity for you, the reader, I'll omit the increasingly urgent variations on a theme. Then, by a stroke of serendipity, just as we had reached a panic level, we passed a traffic signal, which enlightened me.
Me: Ohhh . . . Daddy stopped at the light?
Michael, frustratation giving way to great relief and joy: Yess! Dadda. Tap. White!
I guess the difference is in other countries people don't usually repeat themselves ten to twenty times. Usually you just both smile and nod, pretending you understand, hoping they don't notice. A two-year-old never lets you get away with it.
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White?
Me: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White?
Me: Daddy's something white?
Michael: No! Dadda. Tap. White.
Me: Daddy's . . . uh . . .
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White!
Me: Sorry, Michael, I can't understand!
Michael: Dadda. Tap. White! Dadda. Tap. White!
Out of pity for you, the reader, I'll omit the increasingly urgent variations on a theme. Then, by a stroke of serendipity, just as we had reached a panic level, we passed a traffic signal, which enlightened me.
Me: Ohhh . . . Daddy stopped at the light?
Michael, frustratation giving way to great relief and joy: Yess! Dadda. Tap. White!
I guess the difference is in other countries people don't usually repeat themselves ten to twenty times. Usually you just both smile and nod, pretending you understand, hoping they don't notice. A two-year-old never lets you get away with it.
Monday, November 5, 2007
How It Really Happened...
I'm learning so much about history from my kids, now that they're in school. We were driving in the van when this interchange took place:
Nathan: The first man to walk on the moon was . . . was . . . the first man to walk on the moon was, um, Eisenhower.
Me: Eisenhower?
Nathan: Yup. Eisenhower was the first man to walk on the moon.
Me: I think you mean Armstrong.
Nathan: Oh, yeah, Armstrong was the first person God created, so that's why he was the first man to walk on the moon.
Me: Well . . . actually, Neil Armstrong wasn't the first person God created. There were lots of people on earth, and some people got in a rocket and went to the moon. Neil Armstrong was in the first space craft to land on the moon, and when he got out he became the first person to walk on the moon.
Nathan: Yes, and he was zery, zery strong.
Nathan: The first man to walk on the moon was . . . was . . . the first man to walk on the moon was, um, Eisenhower.
Me: Eisenhower?
Nathan: Yup. Eisenhower was the first man to walk on the moon.
Me: I think you mean Armstrong.
Nathan: Oh, yeah, Armstrong was the first person God created, so that's why he was the first man to walk on the moon.
Me: Well . . . actually, Neil Armstrong wasn't the first person God created. There were lots of people on earth, and some people got in a rocket and went to the moon. Neil Armstrong was in the first space craft to land on the moon, and when he got out he became the first person to walk on the moon.
Nathan: Yes, and he was zery, zery strong.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Two Pirates and a Monster
Pirate Princess, Elmo, Cap'n Jack, Spidey, and Stitch
ready for a night on the town
Two Brothers
Our Happy Family
The Spoils of Battle
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