Awww (Anna)

I was putting a piece of Ikea furniture together, and I sighed as I tried to get a screw into a hole that wasn't big enough.

Emma: What's the matter, Mumma?
Mumma: I'm frustrated because I can't get the screw in properly.
Emma: (tapping my arm gently) I know Mumma. It's hard sometimes. It'll be ok.

The influence of books (Anna)

Signs that the wee one might be reading "too many" books.

1) She expects to wake up on Christmas morning to a world covered in snow (she did say, "please" after all) and that she will have to tramp through the forest to get to lunch on Christmas Day (which she will share with a clothed mouse who lives in a gingerbread house)

2) She's concerned that we don't have a chimney and a mantelpiece for Father Christmas to come down

3) She tells us in great detail about her family's celebration of her first Hanukkah and the wonderful donuts she ate (not sure which family she's talking about, but it wasn't ours)

4) She thinks that on the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me Five Stanley Cups

5) She thinks that all koalas are called "Lou"

Favouratist quote of the year (Anna)

(Emma to Mumma) "I like my friends, but you and Mummy are my favouratist, and I like you bestist of all. I LOVE you Mumma, and I love Mummy. (And you love me, too)!"

Anniversary! (Anna)

Caroline and I are celebrating our anniversary today. Nine years! We've spent it as a family getting ready for Christmas, making (well, ok, eating) a gingerbread house with the wee one, and are now, thanks to wonderful friends, getting ready to go out to dinner, sans wee one.

Not a bad way to celebrate at all.

Lottery

After years of Caroline believing that she would one day win the lottery, it has finally happened (despite, I might point out, my disbelief, which Caroline occasionally tries to use as the explanation for her failure to achieve her destiny.)

We are not quite at the stage of being able to retire, however, so you might want to hold off on knocking on our door asking us to share. Our winnings? $133 (and no, that doesn't have a K on the end).

Upward aspirations

Emma: I want to be a grown-up and go to work!
Mumma: Great! We can swap. I want to stay at home and play with my toys!

clang, clang, clang

Emmy was trying to get me out of bed this morning and I was a little reluctant - I just wanted to doze for another five (or twenty) minutes.

So she found herself a metal-cased pen and banged it against the metal bedside lamp. It made a clanging sound. She announced happily, "Mumma. It's a fire alarm. You have to get out of bed and go downstairs!..."

Making decorations...and biscuits...and plans....(Anna)

Caroline and I were talking on the couch this morning, and we said to Emma, "Come and join us. We're making plans for Christmas."

She replied: "I want to make one too. I'm going to make a little one..."

teddy bears

"Do teddy bears sing?"

How do you answer that without getting into a conversation about the intersection of "fiction" and "reality?"

Questions, questions, questions, (Anna)

It's fascinating to hear some of the things that Emma is wondering about at the moment:

"Do horses have fingers? What about elbows?"
"What sound do penguins make?"
"Mumma, are you going to die?" (adding "I don't want you to.")
"Mumma. Are you Santa?"
"Can I have a new sleigh for Christmas? What about some reindeer?"

One of those nights (Anna)

Toddlers' emotions are intense. Whoa. We went through about 10 complete meltdowns tonight (and only 5 of them were mine ;). She was furious! I was desperate! Every time we thought we had got though it, another one emerged about two minutes later. By the end of it I think we were both exhausted.

And then eventually it was like all the crying had been spent, and she cuddled up in my arms, all snuggly and lovey-dovey and I stroked her hair and sung to her. Then I tucked her into bed (after giving her her nightly "Mummy" kiss - a ritual while Caroline is away and can't do it herself), along with the full entourage of every animal she owns, and she fell asleep clutching my finger (my "finkie" - a cross between a pinky and a finger) murmuring "I love you, Mumma."

I think she just needed a really good cry in her Mumma's arms.

I wonder, which feeling represents parenthood more? Those moments when I could have happily thrown her out the window, or the wonderful softness of her hair and the profound intimacy as she snuggled up to me later? Perhaps that is the epitome of parenting - it is both, usually at the same time.

Paper cuts...but no books in the bed (Anna)

I was telling Emma firmly tonight that it was time for bed - no playing, no reading in bed, no squawking etc. Just sleep.

She nodded and said, "Ok. I'll just call you if I have a paper cut."

Multiplying Mummas (Anna)

When Emma makes her eyes go cross-eyes, she says with great glee: "I've got two Mummas!" (she's talking about two of me) So if she's got two Mummas and two Mummys now, we're soon going to be having Mums coming out of every room in the house. A quick way to expand your family!

Our little goof (Anna)

Emma has learned to go cross-eyed. She thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

Tornado baby (Anna)

A kid who is missing one of her Mums + a cold day with lots of time inside = a house that looks like a Tornado has swept through it.

Music (part 2)

Emma: "Mumma, can we put on some dark music?"
Mumma: Mmm. What do you mean by dark music?" (thinking concertos in minor keys or Alanis Morrisette)
Emma: Um. Mr Moon, Mr Moon.

Something with a beat (Anna)

After almost 3 years of idle comments and random conversations on our part, we are in the shocking position of finding that Emma says things that SOUND LIKE US! Who knew this could happen with a young child? All that time when she was looking at our mouths while we spoke...turns out she was actually listening to us! It's like we have have an influence on her development or something!

This morning's example? While we were listening to music, she said, "No, Mumma, I want different music. I don't want nap music. I want something with a beat."

(When I raised an eyebrow at her, she hastily added, "Please" - further evidence that we are not merely bleeting empty words into a vacuum.) Wow. Profound.

Disclaimer: This does not in any way suggest that everything out of Emma's mouth can be traced back to our influence. Absolutely not. Aliens also come down in the middle of the night and teach her all sorts of things that have nothing to do with us...

Where are you titchy tiny, itsy bitsy, teeny weeny tiny teddy (Anna)

Why is that Emma's favourite stuffie - who must be found before bedtime - is "tiny teddy", who is only about two inches long. Life would be so much simpler if her favourite toy was "big teddy", who is much more easily found and doesn't have the same tendency to go off on adventures into the deep, dark recesses of the couch.

Quote of the day (Anna)

Now this is the kind of thinking that's going to make Emma highly successful in life...and get her into a lot of touble at school in the meantime...

"I'm not kicking you, Mummy. I'm giving you a high five with my feet."

Quote of the day (Anna)

"Do sharks clap?"

No (Anna)

There is a "philosophy" of parenting whereby parents do everything they can to avoid saying "no". And there are many, many times as a parent when it is true that nos can be couched in more positive terms. e.g. "Mum, can I have another cookie?" "No, but if you're hungry, you can have a cracker." "Can we go to the playground?" "Not at the moment, but we'll go on the weekend." etc etc

But I do think there are some questions which deserve an adamant "no," even though I increasingly get the feeling that that might be an old-fashioned opinion. That might be because Emma has been overtly testing boundaries recently, and, honestly, I'm not sure that any other answer would work. (Sometimes, instead of no, when it's clear she already knows the answer, we'll say "Nice try, small fry, won't fly. But we all know that means no, too.)

- Mumma, is it ok if I climb onto the roof and jump off? (No. Next question?)
- Mumma, do you want to dip your finger in my poo? (No! Uuugh.)
- Mumma, can I lick the soy sauce bottle? (No, Emma. Next question?)
- Mumma, can I put my spoon up your nose? (Um. No.)
- Mumma, can I drive us home? (Nice try. Great idea! No.)
- Mumma, can I scribble on the wall? (No. You know that.)

I mean, really. Exactly how is one supposed to avoid no in these situations? Oh wait, here's one:

- Mumma, can I stay awake all night until the morning? (Yes, but you have to be in bed with your head on the pillow and your eyes closed.)

Clearly, we are traumatizing our daughter by constantly thwarting her ideas.

Toys, toys, toys (Anna)

We spent a happy hour today in a really good toy shop (a dying breed in light of certain multinational conglomerates that seem to sell nothing but cheap plastic stuff that say stupid things in American accents.)

I have a bit of a conflicting view about toys. On the one hand, I think most toys are ridiculously expensive, bad quality and really irritating (see comments above), and that kids generally have way too much stuff, encouraging them to leap from one thing to another without actually focusing on anything and not taking care of any of it. I generally think that parents (or grandparents) often choose quantity over quality, and in some case do it to appease fear, guilt, anxiety, inadequacy, jealousy or other parental emotions (mostly unacknowledged ones). Or, worse, because they don't how how to say no. I generally think that young kids, in particular, are often happier with a cardboard box and a pencil than with the latest greatest singing, dinging, blinging thing.

Having said that, there ARE some really cool toys out there, some of which I wish had been around when I was a kid, and some of which I might very well spend a ridiculous amount of money on "for Emmy" so that I can have a turn with them, too. Maybe I'll just have to "put them on my Christmas list."

Rich (Anna)

Emma spent a good 15 minutes today carefully transferring all the money from my wallet into her toy wallet. Then she turned to me and said happily, "Mumma, I'm rich!"

I noddded and said, 'Great. I'm glad one of us is. Because I'm pretty sure my wallet is empty."

This seems like a pretty apt metaphor for parenting more generally really.

Burgeoning geography (Anna)

Emma was daydreaming in her car seat one day and she suddenly piped up: "Mumma-Mummy, I don't live in Vancouver!"
The Mums: Oh yeah? Where do you live?
Emma: I live in Canada.
The Mums: Oh. Well, Vancouver is in Canada (proceeds to explain the difference between a city and a country in a way that is much too complicated for a two-year-old.)
Emma: But my friends live in Canada, and I want to live with them, so I live in Canada too, not Vancouver.

And then she added: "But sometimes I get on a airplane and fly away."

So now you know.

Wild, just wild, about wonderful books (Anna)

We have a perpetual problem with library books in our house.

The problem goes something like this:

We borrow a bunch of kids' library books.
We cuddle up in bed, on the red chair, on the couch and read the books.
We fall in love with the books, and the cuddles and closeness they represent.
Emma learns all the words, until she can recite them to us.
The books become part of the family, and become symbols of our daughter's childhood.
We ignore the reminder emails from the library.
We take the library books back at the 11th hour, and painfully hand them over, feeling a bit like it's sacriligious to give them back. We swear that we will buy copies of our absolute favourites, a pledge that isn't feasible, practically or financially.
We borrow a bunch of new kids' books, and the cycle starts all over again.

Negotiations (Anna)

Emma continues to enjoy a good negotiation.

Mumma: Ok. I think I heard Mummy say you have ten minutes. So ten minutes it is and then it's bed time.
Emma: I want five minutes. Not ten. Please, Mumma. Five minutes?
Mumma: Well, alright then.

Snapshots of a toddler's mind (Anna)

Four snapshops of Emma's endlessly fascinating mind:

1)
Emma: Mumma, when it's Christmas, I want a scooter. I will stay at home and you and Mummy will go to the shop and buy me a scooter. I won't look.
Mumma: Oh yeah? Why do you want a scooter?
Emma: To ride. [duh]
Mumma: What colour scooter do you want?
Emma: Umm. Red.
(I should add that the desired colour of the scooter changes each time this conversation is repeated, cycling through red, pink, blue, purple and green. But given that she was sveral months short of 2 years old last Christmas, we're a little surprised that she has such a sophisticated understanding of Christmas presents)

2)
I just got back from being away for a few days. We were all snuggling on the couch, when Emma said, happily, "I cuddling with my family. *sigh* I like it when we all in the same place."

3)
Emma: Mumma, what are you doing?
Mumma: I'm wiping this crayon off the wall.
Emma: Oh. Is it from me?
Mumma: Yup. That's right.
Emma: Did Mummy do it?
Mumma: Actually, I'm pretty sure you did it, Em.
Emma: Oh. (pause, then with complete sincerity) I sorry, Mumma. I didn't mean to draw on the wall. I draw with my crayons on the paper next time.

4)
Emma: I have a cookie when we get home? (referring to the cookies she made with Caroline over the weekend)
Mumma: No, I don't think so. Cookies are a treat. We're not having cookies today.
Emma: But I made them!!

Don't flush (Anna)

Emma: Mumma-Mummy, my underwears are wet.
The Mums: Why are they wet?
Emma: They were in the toilet!
The Mums: How did they get in the toilet?
Emma: They swimming.
The Mums: How did they get there?
Emma: I don't know.
The Mums: Who put them there?
Emma: Ummm....Emma!!

I know how you feel (Anna)

Emma (wayyy past bedtime): I waiting for sleep to find me, Mummy. He hasn't come yet...

leaving on a jet plane

Granny Heath and Grandad left yesterday. After they left, Emma stroked my cheek and said, "I know. Mumma is sad 'cos your Mummy has flied away on a big plane."

Emma knows about being sad because Mummy has flied away on a big plane, so I knew it was genuine empathy. And very sweet.

In other news, Emma has developed a new phrase. "never, ever". As in "I'm not going to bed, never ever ever ever again" or "I not eating my dinner ever ever ever again..."

Family (Anna)

Having a wonderful visit with my parents, Emmy's Granny Heath and Grandad. And, only two more sleeps until Caroline gets home from Europe!

I am like a Mumma bird, with a strong desire to have all my chicks tucked up safely in the nest.

Other stuff (Anna)

Since I posted the 1/2 birthday photos yesterday, I've been thinking about all the things that Emma loves that aren't captured in the photos. Just a few in addition to the photos...dancing (together and by herself), doing somersaults, being swung upside down, swinging on the swings, singing, building towers, playing with her animals, baking cakes, arranging plastic tubs, hiding in small spaces like blanket forts under the dining table, playing with her friends, helping to cook and do housework, spinning in circles, jumping on the bed, walking and running in the forest, being carried in the carrier, her stroller, playing in the bath, going naked, having picnics, swimming and floating, talking to her grandparents on Skype, reading reading and more reading, playign with her magnetic letters, playing in the playhouse, riding ont he back of my bike wearing her helmet, playing with cars and construction toys, watching Thomas the Tank Engine and Caillou, raosting marshmallows over a campfire, playing music, paddling at the beach, and and and...

In fact, there is so much she loves and she just epitomizes joy and life. I love that about her.

Tonight, as we got ready for Granny Heath and Grandad's arrival tomorrow, Emma danced around the house singing "Ohhh, ohhh, the pokey pokey. Ohhh, ohhh, the pokey pokey..." It's very cute.

In other news, the fact that Emma's daycare teaches her Americanisms is driving me nuts. I have a daughter who says "garbage can" instead of "rubbish bin" and when she recites the alphabet, I have to correct her "zee"s to "zeds" so much that I've almost started referring to monkeys as "chimpanzeds." (Canadians, for the record, say "zed" no "zee" so this is a more legitimate complaint than most of the other things, which are actually Canadian and which I am simply going to have to get used to.)

Emma is 2 1/2

Tomorrow, Emma is 2 1/2. We thought we'd celebrate it in photos that capture some of Emma's favourite things, favourite toys, favourite activities, favourite expressions and favourite summer clothes. (apologies for the formatting issues - I've tried to fix them, but haven't managed it.)

For the camera...

Perpetual Motion...

Exploration...

At Play...

Snuggles...

Reenergizing...

Daughter of a writer (Anna)

Emma has decided that the word "art" is short for another word...tonight, after proudly finishing a painting, she said: "Look, Mumma! My article!"

Quote of the day (Anna)

"I want to learn to drive a aeroplane so I can go to the airport and fly all the way to pick Mummy up in Cop-e-gen [Copenhagen]."

Sleepless on Sunday (Anna)

Universe, why dost thou spite me?

On weekdays, when we have places to go and people to see, Emma wakes up slowly.Sometimes, we have to wake her up for breakfast. The alarm can go off, we can put some laundry in, wonder around and talk, go in and stroke her back and even pick her up and she will happily go back to sleep at the slightest opportunity. I've even see her come downstairs, climb on to the couch and go back to sleep. And it's not unusual for us, when she is up early, to tell her to go back to sleep and for her to say "OK" and curl up and do it.

And then on a Sunday, when we have a much later commitment and can take our time - and could easily have SLEPT IN and I'm craving more sleep - she gets up at 6.30 and no matter what I do I can't get her back to sleep.

How is that fair, I ask you?!!

Saturday (Anna)

Day 6 without a fridge/freezer. Ho hum. It lost its novelty around...oh, I don't know...6 days ago.

Day 1 without Caroline, who is off jaunting around Copenhagen and Germany for two weeks. All right for some ;)

And what did I spend my afternoon doing? Like any self-respecting parent, I spent the afternoon in the pool pretending to be a "seed" while Emma poured water all over me from a watering can to make me "grow" into a "huge, beautiful orange flower." I hope it's not a sign of what might be waiting for me in my next life; if all flowers feel as waterlogged as I felt, I think I'd like to skip that one.

Emma (Anna)

I'm all for inquisitiveness, what ifs and idle curiosity, but I must admit that Emma's latest question makes my heart stop a little: "Mumma. Is it safe to climb out the window?"

When I adamantly explained that no, it is not safe and she must never, never, etc, etc. she said "If I falled, I get a owie and I need a bandaid?"

Emma LOVES bandaids. So, the answer is categorically no. If you climb out the window and fall, you will not need a bandaid. Ever. Ever.

Labour Day weekend (Anna)

Well, we didn't get to go away for as long this weekend as we would have if our fridge hadn't broken (grrr), but we did have a fantastic getaway.

We spent the night at a little seaside resort about an hour from home. Company was great - just the three of us - and involved lots of talking and giggling. Highlights included watching live crabs being caught, sampling the local fish and chips and icecream, wandering along the street, swimming, and spending hours on a beautiful beach collecting rocks. Not a bad few days at all.

On the way home, Emma offered to drive. When she found herself stuck in the back seat despite her kind offers, she decided to be an active back-seat driver. Her commentary went something like this: "Red says 'stop'. Green says 'go'. Yellow says 'Slow down!' Mummy - go. Go Mummy, go. Where did the red light go? Green says stop. Nooo!!! Green says go. Red says stop. Too fast, Mummy. Slow down! That was a big bump, Mummy. I seed a truck. I drive the truck. Stooooop!!!! Mummy. Why we waiting? We waiting for the traffic? Is it a red light? When it go green? When it go green, Mummy? When it go green, Mummy? It green!! Go, Mummy, Mummy, go, go, go. Where we going? Slow down! Can we go 'weeee' down the hilll?"...

We have learnt....(Anna)

We have learnt that 24/7 emergency fridge repair technicians don't return calls on a sunny Sunday morning on a long weekend. No matter how much their websites claims to be available immediately, and no matter how many reassurances they offer on the messages that they call back within 1/2 hour.

But why would you be calling an emergency technician on a long weekend? I hear you cry.

Well, 'cos our fridge and freezer is broken. Because we've had water all over our floor, and because we've had to throw out hundreds of dollars worth of frozen and fresh food (frozen meals that keep us sane on a busy weekday, chicken and fish that we buy in bulk to save money and a whole variety of fresh vegetables and fruits, not to mention all of our refrigerated (sp?) condiments, salad dressing, and other miscellenaeous items). Not that I feel the need to itemize the loss or anything.

It's painful! But it's not as bad as the last time we lost a fridge. It was a different fridge in our old apartment. Emma was just a couple of months old, and when we were in danger of losing the freeze of our freezer, we were also going to lose pints of expressed breast milk (which, if you're ever in the situation, is way more precious than blood). I remember calling our landlord pretty much in tears and begging for a repairman so we wouldn't lose the precious milk. She found a spare freezer for us in an empty aparment, so it wasn't quite as bad as it could have been. But, boy!

But, the good news (and yes, I'm stretching to find some good news) is that we may have a budding repair technician on our hands. When Emma found out the fridge was broken, she went over to it, gave it a big hug and said "You feel better now?" Admittedly, the technique is unconventional and she may have difficulty gaining full accreditation, but, hell, at least she's trying something, which is more than can be said for the professionals!!

Quote of the day (Anna)

For one reason and another, Emma has been catching buses a lot recently. Today...

Emma: Where we going?
Mumma: We're going to the pool.
Emma: We going to walk there?
Mumma: No, we're going to drive there.
Emma: Why? Is the bus broken?

Quote of the day (Anna)

"Mummy. Put your glasses on. You have to wear your glasses cos...cos or the sun will come in and sting your eyes."

Quotes of the day (Anna)

1) A continuation of the "I've always wanted a..." Now, Emma's taken to saying "When I was a boy, I..."

2) The latest addition to the bedtime routine: "Mumma/Mummy. I need to talk. I need to tell you all about my day." And then she tells us all about her day, including both things we're pretty sure actually happened - chasing a tiger through a jungle and driving a police car through the clouds to the zoo to see dinosaurs, for example - and outlandish, imaginary things - like playing in her sand box or having a nap.

A lifetime of thwarted aspirations (Anna)

Emma's picked up a phrase that sounds very odd for a toddler: "I've always wanted..."

As in, "I've always wanted a dog." "I've always wanted a dinosaur."

It makes her sound like she's about 110.

Adult envy (Anna)

They leave the house, dressed smartly, wallets tucked in their hands. Apart from that, they are empty-handed and don't seem to notice the absence of a tricycle, or a hat, or a bag. Even a close inspection would reveal no fingerprints or smudges on their favourite trousers, and if I could see in their pockets, there would be no little animals, rocks or spare underwear. As they leave the house, they have no need to go back in to grab a sticky little hand, and it has probably not occurred to them to use a countdown to get out to the car. They walk casually, checking their plants on their way. They get into the car - which has no kid's car seat anywhere to be seen - and happily chat as they drive away.

It is 7.30pm. They may not come back for several hours. They are childless, unimpeded by the rigours of bedtime.

They are the adults of the neighbourhood, and while it is quite possible that they have a secret yearning to be me, cuddling my sweet toddler as we share our picnic on the front lawn, tonight, I am envious of their adult-ness.

Quote of the Day (Anna)

You know how toddlers often hide behind their parents knees when they're talking to someone and refuse to answer any questions? And you know how adults tend to say something like "Are you feeling shy today?"

Well, today at the bus stop, someone started telling Emma how cute she was. She hid behind me and didn't say anything, then peered out and boldy explained matter-of-factly, "I feeling a bit shy today."

Essential skills of parenthood (Anna)

Trying to help a toddler contain a dripping icecream without leading her to believe that you are trying to steal her cone.

In other news, Emma has decided to rename us. Apparently, the monikers Mumma and Mummy no longer suffice. Our new names? I'm Pee-pee and Caroline is Poo-poo.

Essential skills of childhood (Anna)

I spent the evening teaching Emma to go down a waterslide.

The lifeguard warned us that toddlers often find the slides difficult - they expect the slide to be the same as the ones in a park. Because a waterslide is so slippery, kids, and especially toddlers, typically lean back too far and fall backwards, hitting their heads. So even when kids are used to 10 feet high slides at the park, even the smallest ones at the pool are apparently a nightmare for the lifeguards.

So I taught Emma to lean right forward and reach her arms out to me. She was tentative at first (or maybe that was me - who wants their kid to hit their head on the side of the pool?) but she figured it out really quickly and we had a great time, with much "swooping" "wheeing" and giggling. Not a bad way to spend a summer evening. I always respect the way she's up for a challenge and willing to take risks to do things even when she finds them scary.

Then we went for a 25 block walk at sunset (with her in the stroller). I don't see the sunset as much as I'd like these days since it's usually past E's bedtime (in summer, at least, when there's actually a sunset to see), so it was nice to be out at that time on such a lovely summer evening while the mountains glowed orange.

On the way, we discovered a housing developer with a interesting marketing concept. The new development is called "Karma". Its neighbours?...a cemetary and a funeral home! Someone has a an unusual sense of humour. (I can't decide if it will be very popular, and people will be dying to buy into it, or if the opposite will be true, and people won't be caught dead there...:)

Stinky Mumma (Anna)

Sometimes having a highly articulate toddler can be a little vexing.

"Mumma. What you been eating? You been eating something. You a bit stinky. Go away from me. I don't like your stinky. And I don't want to be stinky too....I love you, stinky Mumma"

In other news, tomorrow Emmy is going on a "transport field trip" - going on a bus, a train and a seabus as well as visiting the airport to watch the planes. Problem is, she's used to actually getting on a plane when she goes to the airport - or at least meeing someone - and I'm not sure she's completely understood that she's not going anywhere.

Free! (Anna)

Oh the joys of having a toddler who can open a locked door by herself (and isn't afraid to do so)...leaving you in a swimming pool change cubicle half naked while she races off gleefully down the aisle away from you.

Quote of the day (Anna)

Caroline was holding Emmy upside down and tickling her.

Emma: [giggling hysterically] Stop!!...Do it again!!...Stop!...Again?

Where do they pick up these things? (Anna)

Another parenting challenge I never anticipated. My two year old being the victim of extortion...from a pet dragon.

[Emma running into the bedroom] "Mumma. Mumma. Scared. Scared." [leaps into my arms]...There's a dragon. It scaring me."

When she had calmed down a little bit, she starting scavenging through the drawers where we keep our losoe change.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"Money. I need to give monies to the dragon so he won't scare me."

Apparently, it worked. Having been paid the protection money, the dragon apparently DID stop scaring Emma. So much so that he gave Emma a ride on his back, and then happily came on the bus with us. (On Vancouver buses, apparently you can transport an adult, a toddler AND a pet dragon for the cost of one ticket! Deal!)

I think sometimes it's best not to psycho-analyse toddlers too much, or we might conclude that we have inadvertently taught her that fear is unnecessary if you've got the money to keep it at bay. Or something. (Also I must confess, I did ask her if anyone in her life apart from the Dragon has been asking her for money, to which the answer was, thankfully, no. I might be old-fashioned but I do think that two is a little young for kids to have to pay protection money in the schoolyard...)

By the way, are dragons always male? I just realised that I've never read a single kids' story about a female dragon.

Quote of the day (Anna)

Emma to a friend:

"We have to walk. Yeah. We can't drive today 'cause Mummy has my car."

And it was very nice of you to lend it to her, Emmy!

Euphemistically speaking... (Anna)

There are a number of things that Emma does that help us to slow down and not rush our way through life. These include:

- eating cereal (or rice) one grain at a time. This is particularly effective when we are running late for something
- insisting on collecting 20 rocks between here and the bus stop, thus turning a 2 minute walk into a 1/2 hr expedition
- insisting on putting on her sandals "all by myself" and then taking them off and starting all over again
- making potty time into a three hour party, complete with animals, songs and books
- walking backwards
- biting on the toothbrush so we can't move it, while grinning inanely because she knows she's in charge
- balancing along the edges of anything she can balance on, and then going back and doing it again, thereby turning 2 metres of pavement into a distance equivalnt to the Great Wall of China
- suddenly finding something fascinating in her pockets wthat needs to be examined, whenever we believe we might actually be about to arrive somewhere
- asking to be "up", then "down" then, wait, did I say "down?" I meant "up"....
- spinning round and round on the spot, thus making zero progress on a linear plane
- Curcumventing any attempt we make to speed things up (by, for example, taking her out of her car seat instead of letting her clamber out by herself, or putting her t-shirt on) by reversing what we've done, and redoing it ALL BY HERSELF.
- Endlessly responding, "But why, Mumma-Mummy....uh huh....but why? Why Mumma-Mummy?" until it is all we can do not to snarl "I don't *&^&%$ know why, ok?! The question doesn't even make any sense any more!!"

In other words, Emma helps us to deal with the stress of a busy life by forcing us to stop and smell the roses...every single bloody one of them!

A gentle nudge (Anna)

Emma was driving a toddler "jeep" up a hill today and was finding it hard to move forward. Of course, she didn't want any help from me in the pushing department. So I discreetly put my foot behind her back wheel so she wouldn't roll backwards.

I wonder if this is an apt metaphor for parenthood - nothing as overt as pushing them up, but just quietly putting our feet behind our kids' back wheels so that they can keep propelling themselves upwards, rather than sliding down back to where they begun.

Food in containers (Anna)

Emma is at home with me today, not feeling well.

When she goes to day care, she give her her lunch in little tupperware containers that she carries in a lunch box. We tend to give her a fair bit of variety since we never know if she's having a feast or famine kind of day, and also if (being a toddler) she baulks at one thing, she has other options. So she might have leftover stirfry in one container, crackers in another, cheese in another, blueberries in another, etc.

This morning, after a long sleep, she was ready for some breakfast. We were having leftovers from last night - organic turkey sausage and salad (with added blueberries), and, on her request, I made some scrambled egg and toast as well. As usual, I put it on her plate at the table.

But instead of tucking in, she decided that the presentation was all wrong. She went into the cupboard with all the plastic containers and pulled them all out, lining them up on the kitchen floor in a long train. She then chose her favourites, and painsakingly transferred each of the food groups into seperate containers - one for sausage, one for salad, one for the blueberries she picked out of the salad, one for egg, etc. Then she balanced them all up into a huge "breakfast tower" and rearranged them until she was happy with her tower.

And then, she opened all the containers and ate. Every bite.

Ruminations (Anna)

If your kid has a fantastic time, but nobody thought to take photos, does it still constitute a "good childhood"? Or, in these days of blogs, facebook posts and "parent points"*, does it only count if it is captured/witnessed?

Great long weekend, with lots of fun, good company, family time, happiness and....sun (yes, it's true! Vancouver is sunny!) Festivals, oceans, barbeques, beaches, music...

But no photos. C'est la vie. Emma - if you're reading this at some point in the future and don't remember the weekend, you'll have to take our word for it, kid.



*parent points. An unofficial collection of points gained through evidence - preferably photographic - of the fact that your child is having a good childhood. You know, those photos that show your child having fun or interesting experiences as a direct result of your "good parenting". Extra "points" are awarded for particularly "educational" experiences and the use of "organic" food or equipment or both. If you're still confused, a short visit to anybody's facebook list should offer a clear explanation.

Quote of the Day (Anna)

"Mumma, I will be your ocean."

Too tired to read? (Anna)

After a busy day of sun at the beach and the pool, Emma was pretty tired this evening. So tired, she even asked, "Mumma-Mummy take me to bed?" (For the record, this is extremely rare. Like most kids, she will deny that she is tired even when she can't hold her head up with exhaustion).

Caroline immediately said, "Yes. Up we go" and jumped up to take Emma up for a bath. But Emma, being a two-year-old, dropped back into negotiation mode, asking for, "Two more minutes. Please?" apparently fogetting that she had put the whole idea in motion in the first place.

She's got into the habit of reading ("all by myself") before going to sleep. It started off as just one book for a few minutes, after story time. The other night, the first thing she did before she settled on my lap for stories was to organize her own reading materials - eight books in all; apparently, she was anticipating a long night. Once she's ready to sleep (generally later than we're ready for her to sleep) she tucks them in next to her along with all her teddies and stuffed animals (we unload her bed each night, so that she actually has room to roll over).

This evening, when I went up stairs to check on her, she was fast asleep, dead to the world. She had two books - open - on her head, and another two on her chest. Apparently, she was so exhausted she couldn't even bring herself to finish a book.

Tucked in (Anna)

Last night, I mentioned that I was really tired. So Emma offered to put me to bed. "I put you to bed, and I tuck you in, and I read you a story, and I sing you a lullaby, and I give you a kiss," she offered. "That sounds lovely," I replied.

A few hours later Caroline told her it was bedtime and Emma said, "No, it's Mumma's bedtime. I put Mumma to bed. Upstairs, Mumma!" And she put her warm little hand in mine and pulled me up the stairs. She pushed me into bed and took off my glasses, then bunched the duvet over my chest and neck and declared, "I tuck you in!" Then she sang me a one line lullaby (which went "Lullaby, lullaby, lullaby") and went to close the bedroom door. Before she left, she declared, "Your feet need to be tucked in," so she wrestled with the duvet until it was covering my feet as well and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek. Then she tucked a book in gently under the covers with me (she sees her books and stuffed animals as interchangeable as bed companions, and often sleeps with both). "Shh, Mumma," she instructed, and she closed the door on me.

Very sweet.

Now if only she would do the dishes while I slept as well :)

Exploration (Anna)

I love the fact that our kid explores the world, tries things out, tests hypotheses and treads where noone (well she) has never trod before.

Except, of course, when she does things that make me nervous and that I don't want her to do. Like - now, what would be an example...oh I know - like at dinner when she started to shove chick peas up her nose to see what would happen.

I dunno much about biology, but that can't be good for her, especially when she insists on sniffing instead of blowing.

Secretly chuffed (Anna)

I love how Emma greets us after being away from us.

Sometimes, she comes running up with big hugs and kisses saying, "Mumma, Mummy!"

But mostly, her reaction is a bit more understated. She generally continues to do what she's doing, almost as if she wants to pretend she hasn't seen us. But a big, gentle grin spreads across her face as if she's really chuffed, and she sort of flops her head around in happiness. She lets out a bit of a squeal and sort of jumps up and down, then looks around to check that everyone can see that her Mums are there. Then she'll usually go back to what she was doing, but obviously conscious that we are there and watching - and she'll show us whatever new thing she can do or that she's proud of - before coming over for a hug and a nuzzle. I love how happy it makes her to see us again.

Of course, sometimes, she just completely ignores us and doesn't seem to care whether we've made an entrance or not. But we know she's secretly pleased ;)

Family (Anna)

Emma was talking about family tonight, and she rattled off that she has a Mumma, a Mummy, a Grandad, a Granny Heath and a Grandpa. Then we were talking about the relationships i.e. Granny Heath and Grandad are Mumma's Mummy and Daddy, and Grandpa is Mummy's Daddy, and talked briefly about Caroline's Mum as well, etc

Then she asked: "I have two Mums?"
Me: That's right.
Her: Mumma have two Mums?
Me: No. Emma has two Mums, Mumma and Mummy, but Mumma has a Mummy and a Daddy - Granny Heath and Grandad. (try saying that three times quickly - but Emma didn't have any difficulty following it)
Her: [her eyes going wide] Mumma not have two Mums?
Me: No. I have one Mum and one Dad.
Her: [disbelieving] You not have two Mums?! Awww.

And she reached out to stroke me in the same way she does when we hurt ourselves and have an owie. I'm pretty sure that my daughter is feeling sorry for me that I only have one Mum!

A great job (Anna)

I read somewhere once that one of the most important jobs of a parent is to plant the right "voices" in your kids' minds, which they then internalize and use as an internal "compass" (excuse the mixed metaphor) for self-esteem, self-identity, resiliency, courage, risk-taking, etc.

Today, at the playground, Emma was climbing up a high and very wobbly rope ladder, and we had been cheering her on.

Sometime around the 10th climb up, we got some idea of what we had been planting in her head. She looked down at us, grinning and said, "I doing a great job!"

Yes, you are, little one. Yes you are.

Persistence (Anna)

For Emma's birthday back in March, we gave her a tricycle with pedals. She's been practicing riding it almost every day since, but for the longest time, she didn't have the strength to push the pedals properly. She's still had fun with it but often just used her feet to propel herself along the ground and sometimes got frustrated that she could see what needed to happen but couldn't make her legs do it.

Today, she was finally ready to ride her bike all the way to the park and back, using the pedals.

One day in the future, when she is struggling with something and wanting to give up, we will remind her of the time it took her almost four months of turning up every day to master her first trike. Depending on how old she is, she'll either put her head down and keep practicing, or, more likely, roll her eyes at us in embarrassment at being reminded that she was once a toddler. Either way, we're proud of her now and I'm pretty sure we'll be proud of her then, too.

I Not Running Late (Anna)

I asked Emma to speed up her porridge eating this morning on the grounds that we were running late.

She calmly looked at me and said, "Actchly [actually] I not running late. Mumma and Mummy running late. I not running late." And she calmly returned to searchign for blueberries in her porridge.

I stand corrected!

(Could have said, but didn't, "Well, then. I'll be getting off to work and you can take yourself off to daycare when you're ready.")

Taking the initiative (Anna)

The other day at the library, Emma went over to the DVDs, picked up a few and looked at them, then handed me a Bob the Builder DVD and said "I want this one. Please." As far as we know, she has never watched Bob the Builder before, and borrowing DVDs is not a routine part of our library trips, but she seemed pretty sure that that was important. So we borrowed it.

She's watched it once or twice. And then tonight, she said, "Mumma. I need to watch Bob the Builder." I looked around for it, and then I said, "Sorry kiddo. I can't play it on my computer since I don't have a DVD player. We need Mummy's computer for it and I'm not sure where it is. Maybe later." I went back to cooking dinner. Emma said, "Where Mummy's computer?" I said, distracted, "Um. Not sure. Maybe it's upstairs. I don't know. We'll find it later, ok?"

A few minutes later, Emma pottered upstairs. Caroine was up there and Emma regularly floats between the two of us, so I wasn't too worried. A few moments later, I heard a bit of a thud and I called, "You ok, Emma?" She replied, "It's a bit too heavy, Mumma. You carry it?"

I went to find her halfway down the stairs, carrying Caroline's computer, which she had successfully found and dragged down half a dozen steps. "You carry Mummy's computer down the stairs 'cos it's heavy, and then I watch Bob the Builder," Emma instructed me. It was on the tip of my tongue to scold her, but I didn't. We just walked down, started up the CD and she is now watching her DVD.

Theoretically, I suppose, I should have been annoyed at her for trying to carry the computer (which she could have broken) especially down the stairs (which is potentially unsafe), but actually I was kind of proud of her. Without any fuss, she pragmatically used her own initiative to solve the problem I had identified so she could do what she wanted to do. She did what she could, and then enlisted my help when she needed it. And not once did she sqawk, cry or have a tantrum to get what she wanted.

Personally, I think it's a good example of why we shouldn't always be supervising and micromanaging our children's every move. Would I ever have given her permission to go up the stairs and retrieve a computer by herself? No, I would not have. It could have been a disaster, I suppose, but it wasn't, and I probably should have been watching her more closely, I suppose, but I wasn't, and she technically shouldn't have tried to do it by herself, I suppose, but she did anyway.

Kind of, strangely, *sniff* proud of her.

For sale- revised (Anna)

Ok. So maybe not for sale, exactly, maybe just for loan when she's refusing sleep even though she's exhausted and when she's exerting her toddler power. You know, when we're at the end of our ropes and she just keeps going and going like the Energiser bunny. The rest of the time, she's sweet and we like her. There are just those moments. You know what I'm talking about.

Toddler for sale (Anna)

You know what I'm talking about.

Balloon lives to 31/2 months (Anna)

Three months and two weeks ago, Emma turned 2.

For her birthday, she was sent a bouquet of balloons from Granny Heath and Grandad. They were warned at the time that the balloons should arrive on the day of the party, since they were only guaranteed to stay inflated for a day or two.

Today, we are preparing ourselves to say goodbye to the final balloon. It is down to around the size of a tennis ball, and we expect it to shrivel up and breathe its final breath in the next day or so - at the extraordinary age of four months.

During its lifetime, it has entertained over twenty children between the ages of 3 months and 7, as well as many adults.

The balloon - know affectionately in our family as "yellow balloon" - will be sadly missed.

Pushing her luck (Anna)

This is one of those cute but exasperating stories that would be so much sweeter if it didn't come as part of a long battle to convince a tired toddler to sleep. (She's actually still not asleep, but she's singing This Old Man to herself in bed and is reasonably quiet, so I'm in denial for a few minutes.)

A good 25 minutes after the last recorded sighting (or audio evidence) of the little monster after bedtime, she suddenly appeared in the living room, having sneaked down the stairs quietly, and announced happily: "I've had a very good sleep. Now - playtime?!" I picked her up, put on my stern Mumma voice and told her it was bedtime and that twenty minutes of lying in bed does not a very good sleep make. Or, you know, words to that effect.

She grinned at me happily on the way back upstairs, looked up into my eyes with love and said, delighted, "Mumma, I pushing my luck." (no idea where she picked up that phrase from. Ahem)

So what did I, stern mother bear, do to reinforce my authority in the face of this asute, highly accurate, observation? I burst out laughing. "You certainly are," I agreed. Still grinning, I cuddled her close, put her back to bed and said, "Oh, Emmy-baby. What are we going to do with you?"

Now Emma has not quite mastered the idea of a rhetorical question, and a few minutes later, before I left the room again, she asked, joyfully and with great anticipation, "Mumma! What ARE you going to do with me?" I think she had images of us feeding her chocolate for a week, or buying her a puppy, or letting her stay up and play all night. Or at least lots of raspberries on her belly.

Of course,what was in my head at the time wasn't quite so congenial :) But, you know, I don't want to give her nightmares or nuffin' - so I decided that some questions are better left unanswered.

Let's just say, though, that if she doesn't go to sleep sometime this century, she's in danger of finding out...

Visiting sheep and then reading about them (Anna)

Back from a wonderful week on Salt Spring Island. We hiked, played on the beach, looked for crabs, visited the markets, spent lots of time on the playground overlooking the harbour, watched the boats go by, admired artisans' work, discovered the local second-hand bookshop, watched the deer, played with the caterpillars, hung out with special people, ate good food, read lots and enjoyed local gelati, organic produce and homemade bread and biscuits.

It was a lovely week and we actually took a few photos. Of course, let's be realistic, the chances of us actually posting them here are pretty slim, but at some point in the far distant future we will correlate this blog with our photo albums so that at least Emma can see how they go together. But that, dear reader, is a project for another day.

In other news, tonight when Emma was going to bed, she asked for "Where is the green sheep?" - a kids book that goes through a great diversity of sheep to find the elusive green one. "Here is the thin sheep, here is the wide sheep, here is the band sheep, here is the clown sheep, but where is the green sheep" etc etc.

A while later when she was tucked in, she suddenly hit me. I stopped her and then asked, "Are you angry, Emma?" "Yes," she said. "Why are you angry," I asked. She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I don't know. Maybe I am an up sheep. Maybe I am a down sheep. Maybe I am a blue sheep. Maybe I am a red sheep." Apparently, our daughter is angry because she is beginning the long and treacherous existential journey towards self-knowledge and the self-doubt and questioning that goes along with it...

Yes, you can (Anna)

A while ago I posted about how sometimes it's the small things that make you swell up with pride as a parent. Today, it was Emma's inner monologue (verbalized out loud) as she tackled a particularly difficult challenge at the playground.

"A bit high. A bit scary. I can do it. I can do it."

And she did.

That's my girl.

Hide and....(Anna)

I'll try to stop laughing long enough to write this.

Some context: Emmy has been figuring out a lot about language recently, and often gets words mixed up. So, for example, tonight she was staring at a picture and saying "Carrot. No. Carrot. No, it's not, it's not carrot" and getting increasingly frustrated. Eventually, she turned to me and said, "Mumma what is it?!" And I looked at the picture and told her it was a "parrot", much to her relief.

So when she wanted to play 'Hide and Squeak," we thought it was the same kind of thing. She closed the door on me in the bathroom and said "We play hide and squeak". So I dutifully "hid" in the bathroom. But a few seconds later, Emma started shouting at me. "You have to squeak, Mumma!"

And because she is tolerant and patient with her oh-so-slow parents, she condescended to demonstrate how to play the game. She came into the bathroom, closed the door and said, "Now squeak." And then she started squeaking in a high-pitched, "Ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee," just like a little mouse.

I was pretty much rolling around on the floor in hysterics by this point, but apparently it wasn't so funny to her. She frowned at me, instructed me to stop laughing and hide, in that order, then closed the bathroom door on me. "Now squeak, Mumma," she instructed me in the bossy voice she's developed recently. So there I was, locked in the bathroom, hiding and squeaking. When I wasn't giggling.

I must say, it's a much more fun game than counting to twenty and tryng to find people. I don't completely understand the rules, yet, but my daughter apparently has faith in me than I can learn. You know, with enough instruction.

Cutey (Anna)

Emma put my hat on for me today and as she pulled it down over my forehead, she said, "There you go Mumma. You look very cute."

Saturday afternoon shenanigans (Anna)

A beautiful afternoon spent in the sun at the Vancouver Children's Festival.

Emma was keen to have her face painted, and when we asked her what she wanted to be, she immediately said, "A wolf," and then added, "And I want pigs on my hands."

When she requested that, the face painter said, "A wolf! I don't know if I can do a wolf! I'm not a professional face painter or anything!"

(So much for going with the flow. I felt like saying, 'Look, she's two. She's got a good imagination. She wants a wolf. Draw something on her face that resembles a wolf. She'll do the rest. She's really not going to be picky!"

And anyway, while we're on the topic, is there such a thing as a professional face painter? Perhaps the face painter's union mandates that only profesionals can do wolves, and that their non-accredited counterparts should stick with butterflies.)

So she tried to convince Emma to change her mind.
"I could draw a lady bug on your cheek," she suggested. "Or you could be a cat. What about a butterfly?"
"Wolf." Emma said, shaking her head. "And pigs."

(We were very proud of her. Who wants to settle for a butterfly when you have a fully articulated vision for an entire cast of story book characters?)

And so Emma had her face painted as a wolf. To her credit, the face painter rose to the ooccasion, and asked Emma to help her to figure out what to draw.
"Do wolves have noses?" she said.
"Yes," said Emma.
"What colour is the wolf's nose?"
"Pink," said Emma, and so she got a pink nose.
"Do wolves have ears?"
"Yes. Brown," said Emma, and so on and so on.

And then Emma asked for a pink pig on her hand, and the face painter complied. And then Emma asked for another one on her other hand, and soon she had two pigs. And then she pulled up her sleeve to ask for another pig (because of course she needed to - ahem - go the whole hog and make sure all three of them were represented), but by then there was a queue and the face painter was showing clear signs of having been stretched well past her artistic comfort zone, so we moved on to the next thing.

Her creation would have made a lovely photo.

Other photos we would have taken had we been living less in the moment and thinking about taking photos:

-The glee of going over to Granville Island on the little boat - a family tradition

- Emma with an icecream (well gelato) in one hand and a teddy bear in the other....licking the teddy bear's head ("I spilled icecream on the teddy!" I licking it off!")

- Emma wrapped up in a blanket in her stroller (at her request) surrounded by people in shorts and t-shirts celebrating one of the hottest days so far this year (no accounting for toddler's internal thermometers)

and lots of others.

Oh, and one other amusing story, in which Emma had to defend her frog family.

Emma was playing with three plastic frogs - 2 big ones and 1 little one. She was saying things like: "This is Mummy, and this is Mumma and this is Emma. They leap onto the lily pad. Splash." One of the frogs landed near a random mother who was hanging around, and the random mother started to talk to Emma.
Random mother: Do you have a family of frogs there?
Emma: (holding up her frogs happily). Yes. Family!
Random mother: Mummy, Daddy and baby! That's a lovely family.
Emma: No. Mumma. (holding up one of the frogs to correct her.)
Random mother: Oh! That's what we say in our family, too. Mama. Mama, Daddy and baby. Great job.
Emma said "No" and gave the random mother a gorgeous and decidely scathing look as if to say, "Isn't it blatantly obvious that these frogs are from a two-Mum family? What sort of moron are you?" And then she gave up and went back to playing. It was quite funny to watch.

Kangaroo cuddles (Anna)

Emma's very sweet way of asking for a cuddle tonight:

"You Mumma kangaroo and I baby kangaroo. I get into your pouch?"

The people on the bus go...(Anna)

Emma has well and truly hit the age where she will point out people's physical irregularities in a very loud voice on the bus.

"What is it on that person's chin, Mumma? It's yucky!"
(A mole)
"It has lots of hair coming out of it."

"Look at that old lady, Mumma!" (pointing to a guy in his 30s or 40s)

"Purple on her face, Mumma!" (pointing to a woman with a bad burn mark)

"Why that person has no teeth, Mumma?"

Did I mention that her language is clear enough these days that even strangers can usually understand her?

Did I mention that she has a very loud voice when she wants to that can carry several metres on a bus?

Ho hum.

Heart-stopping (Anna)

I had Emma tucked up in my arms this evening about to brush her teeth. Suddenly, she threw her head back, closed her eyes and started shaking violently, like she was having a fit.

"Emma! Emma! Are you ok?"I said, pretty panicked, mentally trying to work out how to get to the phone to call an ambulance with her in my arms.

She stopped shaking, opened her eyes and looked at me with concern. It's probably a voice she hasn't heard me use much. "I ok, Mumma. Are you?"she said curiously. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my heart beat.

And then she did it again. Stopped and giggled at herself. And then did it again.

Oddly enough, Mumma did not join in the giggling.

Jokes (Anna)

The latest cause for hilarity is Emma discovering that we have aliases other than Mummy and Mumma.

"Mummy's name is Car-line," Emma tells us, and then giggles. "Car-line" (giggle, giggle)

"Mumma's name is Anna!" she declares. (chortle...chortle...chortle...)"Anna" (dissolves into fits of giggles)

Speaking of names, Emma has started introducing herself to kids at the park as "Emma Catherine Lidstone Rocketship." No giggles with that one, she's deadly serious.

Sun! (Anna)

Well, between my evocation and Emma's optimism, somehow we made sun appear today.

I posted this morning that there was no sun. Then later when we were going out, Emma put on her sun hat and said, "I need to wear my hat, 'cos it's sunny." Caroline and I looked at the grey, gloomy sky and said, "Great. You can wear your hat if you want to."

And a few hours later, out came the sun. And we spent the rest of the afternoon outside, hiking, getting lost on the trails, and searching for good rocks and sticks for Emma's budding collection. The sun was shining through the trees and the birds were chirping and it was just lovvverly.

And, lo and behold, the world feels much more manageable than it did this morning.

Winter blues (Anna)

Emma was just reading a book and commented that the kid in it looked happy. I asked her why she thought the kid was happy and she said, "Because of the sunshine."

A telling comment, given that we have yet another grey gloomy day in Vancouver despite the fact that it's almost the end of May!!

Can't wait for some sun to arrive.

Tennis (Anna)

Caroline is a huge tennis fan and I remember her saying, before Emma was born, that she was looking forward to watching tennis with her baby.

Well, it's French Open season so there's been a bit of tennis watchng in our house recently.

Last week, Caroline turned it on for ten minutes before we were due to go out. I asked Emma to come and get dressed and she looked at me very sternly and said, "No Mumma. I not getting dressed now. I need to tuck up with my Mummy and watch the tennis." Which of course left Caroline wth a melting heart.

Then last night, Emma grabbed a round plastic sand toy with a handle and started swishing it around in the air with accompanying sound effects. "I playing tennis," she said. "With my tennis jacket." (she means racquet).

And then this morning, I came down to find Caroline on the couch wrapped in a dressing gown and blanket watching the tennis. On her lap, all snuggled up and warm, hiding underneath the folds of the dressing gown, were Emma, Victoria-the-doll, teddy and kangaroo, looking absolutely adorable. They looked so happy all cuddled up together.

Dr. Chocolate (Anna)

Sunday morning in our house is more often than not my time with Emma, while Caroline goes to a coffee shop to work on her PhD.

This morning, I was playing with Emma and she said, "I go to coffee shop and work on my PhD."

I said, "Oh, Are you working on a PhD?"

"Yes," she said.

"Great," I said. "What's your topic? What are you researching?"

She replied, "Chocolate cake."

Excellent. I couldn't think of a better topic for a thesis. Hopefully it will have a practical component to it.

My fault (Anna)

Emma, like most toddlers, can be quite possessive. "My breakfast." "My Mummy." "My blanket." "My toy" etc.

This morning, I accidentally bumped Emma's head when we were playing. She said "Ow". I apologized to her and added, "That was my fault."

Emma got very upset with me, and said "No. MY fault. MY fault, Mumma. MY fault."

Getting older (Anna)

The evidence is all around us, but occasionally we have reason to really notice that we are raising a kid and not a baby.

Tonight, it was when Emma suddenly said to her friends, "Hey everyone. Let's all be a fire truck. I'll drive." We looked at her and thought, "Where did THAT come from?"

On other news, we have it on the best authority from a gaggle of kids that people are officially old when they get to...10 years old! I guess that when you feel that you have counted to infinity when you make it up to 13, 10 does feel like a long away.

A kid after our own hearts (Anna)

It's nap time in our household. I am ignoring the fact that Emma is not in in fact asleep, but lying on her bed looking at a book. She doesn't know I know. She has, after all, followed most of the instructions we gave her, which were to lie in her bed quietly, with her head on the pillow. I believe we also added something about closing her eyes but fair's fair - that would make it that much harder for her to see the pictures.

When she's older, we'll probably buy her a torch, so that she can read under the covers after she's supposed to be asleep. But don't tell her Mums we said that.

Jumping (Anna)

We have a public holiday coming up, so I asked Emma what she would like to do on the weekend. She wasn't sure, so I reframed the question as "What things do you think are fun at the moment?"

She replied, "Umm. I like jumping on the bed."

So we might be spending our public holiday jumping on the bed. Or at least watching her jump on the bed.

Random nice moments that I want to remember (Anna)

1) Emma, while drawing: "Mummy, write my name on my drawing, please. I want you to write 'Emma Lidstone Rocketship'".

2) Emma had a star in her hand the other day, and a miniature lobster (miniature animals are a big deal at the moment). She kept saying "star and lob-star". Seems reasonable to me! On that note, try explaining to a toddler why the word "Emma" doesn't start with an "M". It's a confusing language we're trying to teach her.

3) I was in a supermarket the other day and being in a supermarket with a toddler is not always a joyous experience. That day, though, our conversation went like this:

Emma: I love you very much, Mumma.
Mumma: Well, I love YOU very much.
Emma: I love YOU very much.
Mumma: I love YOU very much.
Emma: I love you Mumma. I love you very much.
Mumma: And I love you very much.

I could have changed the subject, I suppose, but why on earth would I want to?

So naive (Anna)

When Emma asks us for crackers and some berry tea, we assume she's hungry and wants to eat them. Because, you know we think like parents and not like toddlers.

But no, she needs to put them in the storage compartment on the back of her tricycle to she can ride them around the living room.

Names, names, names (Anna)

Emma has started to name her animals and toys, rather than just referring to them as "piggy", "horsey" "doggy", etc.

A few weeks ago, she named one of her ducks "Paris."

Then, this morning,she was playing with a bunch of animals and she said "What's the horse's name?" So we encouraged her to come up with a name for the horse and she thought for a moment and said, "Horse's name is...Duck."

"The horse is called Duck?" we clarified.

"Yup,' she said happily.

And then she named her cow, and her tiger and her turtle. Their names? Duck.

So now we have a farm of animals who are all called Duck. Except for the duck, which is called Paris.

Hopefully, we can now say, "Do you have Duck?" and won't have to spend hours looking for the right one. But that might just be us being hopefully idealistic.

Lucky duck (Anna)

I like birthdays!

I've been banished from the kitchen table while Emma and Caroline wrap my pressies...and I've heard rumours of chocolate cake. Aren't I lucky!

And Emma's been giving me affectionate cuddles all weekend and singing happy birthday as often she can. I love it!

Tea party (Anna)

Yesterday, I attended my first ever mother's day tea party.

I arrived at Emma's day care and my little daughter put her hand in mine and said, "Come with me, Mumma," and took me into the back room, which was labelled "Ladybug Cafe". She sat me down on a kid size chair at at a kid size table that was covered in a ladybug tablecloth, and handed me a menu decorated with ladybugs.

Then, we shared a plate of goodies that contained a large croissant and a baby croissant, a large chocolate-covered strawberry and a baby chocolate-covered strawberry and some grapes. Unlike most of the tea parties I have with Emma, the food was neither plastic nor imaginery. Emma did a lovely job of sharing and offering me bites (three bites for Emma, one for Mumma, repeat.) And we drank lemonade with added frozen raspberries, which was a delightful combination, from little cups, and had a lovely conversation with each other and with other kids and their mums/moms before Emma presented me with a beautiful mother's day piece of art.

It was almost perfect. Almost, because Caroline was out of town at a conference and so couldn't be there. We missed her - no mother's day celebration can be complete without her! But it was a wonderful, wonderful tea party with fabulous company. Makes me tear up just thinking of how proud and excited Emma was. Or maybe that was me.

Quiet as a sleeping babe (Anna)

I don't like to be a sceptic, but when my beautiful little daughter, who should have been asleep hours ago, stands up in bed and bellows, "I'm sleeping!" I find it hard to believe her....

Making friends (Anna)

A lovely moment on the bus today. When we got on there was an old guy speaking Kantonese (I think). He had no teeth and was hunched over with a walking stick. He looked like he was about 150. He started cooing at Emma, so I positioned her stroller towards him, so they could have a chat. Then he started singing to her, much to her amusement. So what does a "150" year old Asian guy sing to a toddler? Well, he started with Old Macdonald Had a Farm - in English. Emma responded by showing him her miniature dinosaur and telling him all about it (a wise addition to the farm, methinks). Then he moved onto a la-la-lahed version of the melody for "Yes, Jesus Loves You", before singing "London Bridge is Falling Down" and "God Save the Queen". His grand finale was "Oh Canada." Quite the eclectic kids' album.

When he got off the bus, he said goodbye, in Kantonese. Emma responded by saying "We're on the bus. It's the number 19" (which surprised me, I must say, since it WAS the number 19, but I had no idea she knew that) and then said "goodbye" while waving her dinosaur. It was a very sweet encounter.

Gorillas (Anna)

You know you're a parent when you get to work and realise that you have a miniature gorilla and three rocks in your work trousers that your daughter has asked you to "keep safe."

"Watch me tease Mumma" (Anna)

Not fair! The baby got my hopes up, then dashed them unfeelingly...

I picked her up from daycare this afternoon (Caroline is away for a couple of days, so it is just me and the munchkin). Emma enthusiastically told one of her teachers that she was going home, having dinner, and then going for a "nap" in her cot - something she rarely volunteers. I asked her if she was tired (the answer is almost always no, no matter how bleary-eyed she is). She said, "Yes. I tired. I need to sleep. Mumma sleep too?"

Then, having dinner on the lawn to enjoy the beginnings of summer, Emma kept putting her head down on the blanket and saying, "I go to sleep in the garden? I sleep on the towel." She was in a good mood, but very cuddly and tired. I even opted out of an invite with friends, on the grounds that she was running out of steam. I started to get that glimmer of hope that maybe bedtime wouldn't be a battle. Maybe toilet time could be achieved with one visit instead of three (or six)? Maybe she would bounce up only one or twice instead of 3 million? Maybe 10 books would actually be enough? As she started to rub her eyes, I was even so cocky that I started to mentally plan my evening!

And then. Hopes dashed. Perhaps she got a second wind, or perhaps she was toying with me all along. Possibly she was overtired and missing her Mummy (me too).

Bedtime took forever!

Not in a bad way, necessarily. I got lots of kisses and "I love yous". Just not quite what I had expected when she started to cue up the "I'm-tired-and-will-fall-asleep-the-minute-my-head-hits-the-pillow" track.

Not fair!

The Vote Boat (Anna)

Emma was disappointed in us today. We told her we were going to vote (in the federal election today) and, having done so, she was really angry with us. Surely she wasn't upset about who we voted for?

Turns out she got the words mixed up. She thought we were going on a BOAT! And when we go on boats, it usually means fun - whether we're going on holiday, seeing some of her special people or just going over to the Granville Island kids market. So when the reality was that she got taken into an empty room and made to wait in a line so that her parents could put little crosses in boxes, I can see why she was a little disappointed.

(With the election results already in, we too, are disappointed. Can't help feeling that people are getting aboard the WRONG boat! But that's another story. Or, at least, I hope it's another story...one that, unfortunately, is likely to affect our family quite a lot more than most. *sigh*)

Living in the moment (Anna)

Oh, to be a toddler. A few wonderful moments today.

1) I was reading Emma one of those books about emotions today, and we were talking about the fact that the bunny was happy. She said, "I happy too." I asked what makes Emma happy and she said, "Mumma cuddles, Mummy cuddles and family cuddles." (awww) Then I asked her what makes her sad and she said, "I don't know. I happy now." Later, I asked her what makes her angry, and she repeated. "I don't know. I not angry. I happy."

2) Then, along the same theme of living in the moment, we were playing outside in the beautiful warm sun this afternoon, and I was playing some music on my computer - a bit of classical piano music, a bit of guitar music, and some other stuff. Every few minutes, no matter what was playing, Emma cocked her head and said, "What music is that? That's my favourite song." I think our lives would all be a lot richer if we could have the same appreciation for whatever song is playing at any given moment.

3) We found the absolutely perfect way to get a toddler to sleep tonight. On a relatively warm, summer-is-on-its-way evening, after a lovely play date with her friends, Emma fell asleep in a swing, rocking back and forth under a tree. And, against all odds, fell asleep again in the stroller on the way home, and then, further defying the odds, again tucked up in bed, where she is now fast asleep. We intend to make it a nightly ritual. ;) To hell with brushing teeth, stories and songs - this works for all of us!

All in a day's work (Anna)

Wondrous things to hear as a tired parent: "I tired. I need to go to bed."

Less than wondrous things to hear as a tired parent: "I took my nappy off and I peed on the carpet."

Hush, little baby (Anna)

To express how I feel about my darling daughter this evening, I will simply direct you to a book that several people now have recommended to me...as the parent of a toddler, I can't imagine why they think I might relate ;)

www.boingboing.net/2011/04/26/go-the-fuck-to-sleep.html

P.S. An overheard conversation to two of Emma's bed mates. "Koala Lou. That's my ladybug. Don't touch my ladybug. Please. Good night,Koala Lou. I kiss you goodnight. (mmwhmaa). Don't touch my ladybug. Ok?"

Easter weekend (Anna)

A wonderful weekend, and busy! Let's see, there were rocks to throw in the ocean, tidepools to explore (and crabs to admire), kites to watch, walks to have, sunshine to absorb, daisy chains to be modelled, animals to brush, meals to enjoy, chocolate to eat, art to make, games to play and cuddles to have. All with three of Emma's (and ours) favourite people.

This weekend, Emma has also started to refer to herself by her full name...but with a small substitution. She tells us that her name is Emma Catherine Rocketship Lidstone. And then she shortens it and and says that her name is "Emma Lidstone. Rocketship." We are planning to change her name on her birth certificate. After all, it couldn't possibly be just a phase, could it?

Happy birthday, Dad/Grandad/John (Anna)

Happy birthday! Have a wonderful day. Emma is going around saying "I fly in the air, in a aeroplane, go see Grandad an' Granny Heath"

A personal message from your devoted granddaughter (notice how she already understands the concept of doing another take so she could have another go!):

Here is Emma's message to her Grandad two years ago to the day. You may notice a few changes....

Big kid 2 (Anna)

Today, we said good bye to an old era and ushered in a new one. For months we have been in denial tht Emma can climb out of her cot. We've both seen her do it, but mostly she doesn't. She calls us, demands us, etc, but rarely actually climbs over the rails unless she's got an audience of other toddlers. This gives us a certain amount of control, because we can put her in her cot and know that she'll probably stay there. So when, for example, she's on nap strike, she's free to talk to herself and play in her cot but not free to abandon the effort entirely. But today, we finally took the side of her cot today and turned it into a big kid's bed. So now she can get in and out of bed whenever she wants and, since she can also open every single door in the house (except those with child-proof locks on them), that also means she now has free reign over the house after bedtime. What havoc have we unleashed?

Sharing (Anna)

I was nibbling on a (wheat-free) chocolate biscuit this afternoon - a treat from Caroline after she went to our favourite health shop. And Emma, who can sniff out a biscuit from ten miles away, asked for some (the word "share" becomes very valuable in such circumstances). So I gave her some and she tottered outside with her piece of biscuit to play in the sun. She came back a few minutes later with her baby doll, Victoria, in hand, and explained to me that Victoria wanted to share, too, so she also needed some biscuit. And of course, I knew that Emma was going to "help" Victoria eat it. So I gave her some, not because Emma has me twisted around her little finger (although that might also be true) but because if Emma is clever enough to come up with a reason why she should have more biscuit while evoking the very noble spirit of sharing - and can enlist the support of her toys in her tactics - I think her entrepreneurialism should be rewarded.

"My underwears" (Emma)

We have a very proud little girl today - she has graduated to wearing "big kids pants" (underpants instead of nappies). She calles them her "underwears" and she couldn't be more chuffed. She absolutely loves going to her potty and pulling down her own pants. And one day, when she's 18, we'll tease her about it and embarrass her. But for now, we're proud, too, because she's a little bit older than she was yesterday. And because parents get proud of strange things.

Nice day, Mumma? (Anna)

We were warned that when you have kids, you find out what you talk about a lot, because your kids parrot it back to you. Most mornings, when we go out of the front door, I make some commentary on the weather. "Oh, isn't it a lovely day. Look at the blue sky. Can you hear the birds chirping" etc etc or "Yuck! It's not a very nice day, is it! It's grey and rainy and cold." Sometimes, I'll say "Can you feel that lovely rain on your head." But I hadn't realised how much it's part of our normal conversation until this morning when, over the breakfast table, Emma turned to me conversationally and enquired, "Is it a nice day today, Mumma?"

A, B, C (Anna)

Emma's very interested in letters at the moment, so she's continuously asking "What letter is that?" Then we give her the letter and come up with as many words as we can think of beginning with that letter (surprisingly few...B...uh...B for bottle...B for balloon...B for Barbados...B for, um, beatification...oh right, B for baby, ball....) But she's not completely confident with the concept. Last night, she was eating chilli and pulled out a bean. "What letter is this?" she asked. So we're trying to explain that not everything is a letter. And then there's punctuation. "What's this?" she'll ask, and we'll say "It's a dash." She looks at us expectantly, and says "Dash for....?"

Mum, there's a walrus in my porridge (Anna)

Emma woke us at 4.30 this morning (4.30!!) to tell us that there was an (imaginary) spider on her knee that was keeping her awake. And at breakfast this morning, she told us that there was a walrus in her porridge. (Yes, we had to ask her to repeat it too.) "There's a walrus in my porridge. (pointing) Just there." So we flipped through our mental database of appropriate questions to ask about walruses that live in porridge bowls, and came up with, "What is the walrus saying?" to which Emmy replied, "Saying 'Eat your breakfast!'" So at least her imaginary creatures are backing us up - I can't imagine how hard it would have been to get her to eat if the walrus had advised against it.

Emma is generally reasonably well-behaved with us (given that she's a toddler with a burgeoning sense of personal identity.) And she's generally reasonably well-behaved with her daycare teachers. Put them, together, though, and apparently all bets are off. This, I discovered today on a field trip to Science World with Emma's daycare. After several hours of fun and discovery, the trip home was a nightmare. While all the other kids angelically held an adult's hand and crossed the road, and then sat patiently on the bus, I had an angry, screaming toddler who refused to hold hands, refused to sit still and wouldn't stop crying. Toddler tantrums are fun at the best of times. Having them happen in public is worse. Having them happen in front of your child's teachers and all the other kids is bordering on humiliating. Ho hum. I hate parenting with an audience.

Life According to Emma (Anna)

Cuddling with Mumma and reading. Points to a pig in a book. . Emma: "Piggy sad". Mumma: "Why is piggy sad, do you think?" Emma: "Needs Mumma cuddle." Mumma: "Does Emma need a cuddle, too?" Emma: "Ok." (cuddle, keep reading. A few minutes go by. Turns page back to pig picture) Emma: "Piggy happy!" Mumma: "Yeah? Why is piggy happy?" Emma: "Ate banana bread for snack." So there you go. Sadness is needing a cuddle. Happiness is banana bread.

Bed (Anna)

Lea - this post is for you, following our conversation the other day about why kids want to delay bedtime even when they're exhausted. This might be something of an answer. Tonight, Emma was curled up on my lap in the final stages of the bedtime routine. This is usually a combination of singing (together or just me) and her talking about whatever's on her mind (we end up in all sorts of interesting places during these conversations). She sighed and said, "Bedtime." I nodded and stroked her back, and she went on: "No more books." *sigh* "No more songs." *sigh* "No more games." *sigh* "No more play" *sigh* "No more being silly." *sigh* Then she wrapped her arms around me and said "I need a cuddle, Mumma." So we cuddled and lamented the end of another day as if it was the end of the world, and I whispered, "And tomorrow we'll do it all over again". But you know what? If those are the things she associates with being awake, I think she has pretty good days. P.S. I am not the only blogger who is being infuriated by the bug in the program that has disallowed paragrah and line breaks. The web is rife with complaints about it. Apparently, it is waiting for a solution from Google. It drives me crazy - it completely messes up my rhythms and cadences, and makes it sound like I don't know how to take a breath!

Musical interludes (Anna)

I was singing to Emma at bedtime and being goofy with the tempo, pitch, etc. She kept squealing, "Too fast! Too slow! Too high! Too low!" I half expected her to say "No, Mumma. Wrong key!" or "Your embouchure is all wrong."

Paragraph function (Anna)

For some reason, I can no longer make paragraph breaks in my posts. The program is just lumping everything together in one long, winding paragraph. Not happy!

Gone (Anna)

Emma just called us from bed (where we had thought, quite naively, that she had been angelically sleeping), and when I went up to check on her, I found her stark naked. "Where's your nappy, kiddo?" says I. "I had a pee in nappy, so took it off," says she. She had taken her nappy off by herself and flung it over the edge of her bed. Lovely. Must say I'm quite grateful it was a pee and not a poo. Maybe that explains why she had requested no pyjamas at bed time. It's all part of her grand ploy for autonomy.