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.