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.

Modern kids (Anna)

We had to laugh yesterday about modern toddlers. We were looking after a random sample of three Vancouver kids for the afternoon. (Actually not random at all - Emma and two of our favourite kids.) We had them all lined up on the swings at the park and in between giggles, they started talking about planes and where they had been. Well, between the three of them, they had been to Japan, Hawaii, Turkey, Australia, England and France, as well as various places in Canada and the US. Did I mention the average age of these kids was less than three? :)

Civic responsibility (Anna)

Well, they say that civic responsibility starts early.

Our federal government has just fallen after a no confidence vote, so we're heading for another election. Caroline casually mentioned that we'll be able to vote (during the last election, we weren't Canadian citizens, and so couldn't.)

And now Emma is going around I saying "I vote, too. I wanna vote."

I'm not sure it's a good idea, though. Emma is going through a phase (an extended phase, possibly lasting another couple of decades) of saying no to everything. I mean everything. So if she was asked whether she supported a particular candidate, she would probably say "No! No no no no no."

But her other favourite expression is "I do it!" Which might get her into trouble since people could take her at her word and we could end up with the next PM on our hands. If in the US, "Yes, we can" can capture the popular imagination, then I think "I do it" could be just as successful as a rallying cry.

After all, she already has a staunch set of supporters. I have no doubt that teddy, tiny teddy, green bunny, pink bunny, Wow Wow, Boo and Baby 'Toria would all vote for her in a second.

Ah shit (Anna)

Sometimes, we don't know where Emma picks new words and phrases up. But sometimes there's no doubt. I mean, that's not a lot of ambiguity about where she learned "I go to coffee shop and work on my PhD" or "Teddy needs some space" or "Let's put some music on."

So, when Emma sits in the kitchen watching Caroline cook, saying "Ah shit" over and over again in an adorable high-pitched toddler voice, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what Caroline just let slip a few moments ago when her food started burning....

Cottages and icecreams and tigers (Anna)

We've spent the last few days at "our cottage" at Bowen Island. The weather put on a gorgeous show for us, giving us two days of sun and warmth. We had a lovely weekend of throwing rocks into the ocean, hiking, playing, watching the sunset, eating good food (thanks to our resident chef Caroline) and planning our alternative life on the island.

One evening, we were introduced to some of the more difficult aspects of Emma's new (or at least newly expressed) pretend and imaginary life.

We were pottering in the cottage and Emma was playing. She came up to us and casually said, "I have a owie on my body. I have a hurt." So we asked her what the matter was, and she said, "A honey bee came an' bit me in the ear. And it hurts."

So suddenly we're thrown into the age-old dilemma of the parent. We want to believe her, we want her to come to us when she's hurt. We want her to learn that she will be believed, and we don't want to dismiss her injuries. On the other hand, she was playing jut a few metres away from us - surely we would have seen a bee? Surely some evidence of the bee would still be visible? Surely, if nothing else, she would be crying if she had just been stung by a bee? Besides, was this something that just happened, or is she remembering something that happened months ago (although we probably would have known about it then, too)?

Luckily, she solved the dilemma for us by continuing with her story. "And then a tiger run after me and eat me, so I give a icecream cone to the tiger. And I sing a lullaby to tiger."

And since we were even more sure that there was no tiger in the cottage than we were that there was no bee, we were off the hook. This time.

And a note for those postmodernists among you. We get that what she was saying was "true on some level". We realise that truth is not a fixed, definable quality. We couldn't agree more that the world of the imagination is far more real and substantial than most of the made-up stuff that happens in 'reality'. We would be the first to argue that "stories"and fiction are often the most pure form of truth. However, that line of thinking really isn't very reassuring as a parent. I mean, at some point you just need to know if your kid has just been stung by a bee!

Where did it go? (Anna)

A story from one of Emma's caregivers at daycare:

M: Emma, do you need to poo?
Emma: Yes. I need to poo.
(a few minutes later)
M: Emma. didn't you say you needed to poo?
Emma: Poo went away.
M: Oh, it went away. Where did it go?
Emma: Went shopping.
M: It went shopping?
Emma (patiently): Yes. The poo went away. Went shopping.

Monsters (Anna)

Emma's been going through another developmental quantum leap recently, with lots of new language and - very exciting - learning how to play make believe and pretend. We're a little in awe of the fact that her brain has developd to the point that she can now make up stories and scenarios and games that exist only in her imagination (as opposed to reporting things she has seen). And after several weeks of increasingly complex imaginative play, it is official.

Emma's room has monsters in it.

We found this out at around 3 this morning when we were cuddling our kid as she told us in long, winding sentences all about the scary monsters and how they were eating straberries and crackers in the corner of her room, and playing with the tiger. We tried shooing them away (like we taught Emma to do with flies in Australia) but apparently to no avail.

Parents of older kids have warned us that once monsters move in, it can take years for them to move out again. So, here we go.

Just as we were enjoying a full night of sleep. :(

The uncooperative drain (Anna

Emma in the bath, with the water draining out.

Emma: Where the water go, Mumma?
Mumma: It goes down the drain.
Emma: Oh. Water...down the drain. The blocks go down the drain, Mumma? (demonstrating with plastic blocks)
Mumma: No, the blocks won't go down the drain because they're too big.
Emma: Oh. (processes this) Blocks no go down the drain. This go down drain, Mumma? (trying to shove a large plastic ring down the drain)
Mumma: No. The ring won't go down the drain either. It's too big, as well. Only the water goes down the drain.
Emma: (discards the ring. Eyes light up with a terrific new idea) Emma go down the drain, Mumma?!!
Mumma: No. You're too big to down the drain, too. You wouldn't fit.
Emma: I wanna go down drain! Humph. (sits and looks disgruntled at the unaccomodating drain, then stands up) Out, please! No more bath!

Happy Birthday, Beautiful Girl!

Emma turned two today...She had a new party dress...

Last night, we had a small dinner party in honour of the birthday girl. L, N and J, you were missed! Emma was happy that there were party hats...

And the party blowers created great merriment...

It took her a few attempts to blow out her candle, but she did it eventually...

This morning, there were presents waiting for her at breakfast time...

She was just playing with one of her new toys (whizzing her toy cars round and round the spiral highway) when the doorbell rang...and a beautiful bouquet of balloons arrived from Granny Heath and Grandad....

And while Emma played with her cars and her new baby stroller, we had a party to prepare for...She had asked for a blue cake, so we made it into a fish covered with smarties...Luckily, Auntie Kim was on hand to help - it took all three of us to get everything ready...

Lots of Emma's friends were at the party to help her celebrate, and she got lots of thoughtful and beautiful presents (thanks everyone!)...

And cake...

And face painting (the face painting artist was Kim)

After the party, we sank onto the couch exhausted. Emma meanwhile, decided that she liked having her face painted - and that she could do it herself. (Her bath tonight was longer than usual as a result).

All in all, a wonderful birthday weekend for our big girl. Thank you to everyone who has sent her their good wishes - if we weren't limited to iniviting only those people who live in our approximate geographical vicinity, we would have needed a much bigger cake!

2

And...she's two!

Happy birthday, Emma!

Retrospective - 2 years in photos

Retrospective part 1

This is what we were writing on this blog just a few weeks and days before Emma was born. Hard to believe that there was a time before we had met her.

February 17
http://themums.blogspot.com/2009/02/out-of-gas.html

February 26, 2009
http://themums.blogspot.com/2009/02/full-term-anna.html

March 4, 2009
http://themums.blogspot.com/2009/03/38-weeks-anna.html

March 6, 2009
http://themums.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-see-or-not-to-see-anna.html

March 8, 2009
http://themums.blogspot.com/2009/03/belly-love-caroline.html

One year, 11 months, and 3 weeks old (Anna)

Emma turns two in exactly a week. And apparently we have made 200 posts to this blog. The first is much more momentous than the second (although I must confess I am extremely grateful that we have been working on our own writing projects over the past two years - it would be devestating to realise that we had written that many blog posts instead of other things).

So, as our little girl officially moves from "infant" to "child" according to the nurses hotline, it is possible - and I said possible as opposed to definite or even likely - that over the next week we might post something of a restrospective. Which might - and I said might as opposed to will - include photos and videos. You just never know.

In the meantime, a retrospective of her life from the girl herself:

"I in Mummy's belly and then I born. I said 'hello'. I have birthday coming up. I two. I have cake. Blue cake. Chocolate. I love you Mummy. I love you Mumma."

(I think the 'hello' bit is her interpretation of me telling her that I used to say "Hi little one. It's Mumma" to her while she was in Caroline's tummy, and then those were my first words to her. Or maybe it's her memory of what she wanted to say to us when she met us on the outside for the first time, if she had had the language.

And, just to be completely clear, the "I love you" bit is less of a "Thank you kind, wise parents for imagining me into being and giving me life" and significantly more related to the sheer joy she experiences at the thought of blue chocolate cake.)

Making noise (Anna)

This evening, Emma was chanting "wa-noo-nooon" over and over again, with increasing volume. I didn't understand what she was saying. That's not unusual - as she experiments with new words, we sometimes don't catch them and when we don't she often repeats them louder to make herself understood.

So, after several attempts to interpret what she was saying, and looking around the room for clues, I said something like, "Sorry. I don't understand what you're saying. What's wa-noo-noon?"

She looked at me with amusement, and said reassuringly, "I just making noise, Mumma!"

Monkey see, monkey do (Anna)

We have a countdown technique with Emma when she's resisting a transition of some kind. For example, if we need her to come out of her cardboard house to get dressed, or if we are asking her to put down a toy before we go out, we tell her that we're going to give her a countdown and that by the time we get to zero she needs to do whatever it is we're asking her to do. At around 5 or 4, we remind her what she has to do (sometimes she gets distracted, so it's only fair). This technique is extremely effective. Occasionally we have to force the issue (she can't say she wasn't warned), but most of the time, by zero, she's happily - even proudly - obliging. Sometimes she even requests a countdown when she has to transition into something.

All of that is preamble to a story...

Tonight, Emmy and I were playing around with the guitar while Caroline got dinner on the table. Caroline called, "Dinner," and I said, "Yup. Coming."

A few minutes later, I was still messing around on the guitar, and Caroline said, "Come and eat, folks."

I said something slightly facetious like, "Mummy's telling us to stop playing. We should probably go and eat, or we might get in trouble. What do you think?"

And Emma replied, "Countdown! Mumma? 10-9-8-6-7. 'tar [guitar] away Mumma. 5---3-4-3-3-1! Put it away!!" [we knew she could count to ten with reasonable accuracy; we had no idea she could do such an impressive approximation of counting DOWN from ten - we must be using this technique more than we thought!]

Needless to say, as soon as I realised what she was doing, I scrambled to put the guitar away, and just about made it by zero. She looked at me proudly and said," Did it!" and we headed to the dinner table.

I think we're past the days of doing anything without her copying it. There is something profound about that.

In a few years time, she'll be giving us curfews. *sigh*