Ahhhh! (Anna)

We just had a date. Yes. As in two adults; no kid. We went out to dinner and talked. And then went out for dessert and talked some more. Neither of us required a bib or a high chair. We are feeling much more human as a result.

And Emma had a fabulous evening, with two terrific kids who live on our street (both of whom we're very fond of). They're a little older than her - old enough to feel protective of the "baby" in the group and treat her like some kind of foreign curiosity, (e.g. "Mummy! Emma just said a word! Ooooh!"), and old enough to provide hours of wide-eyed awe for Emma, who can't quite manage a lot of the things they can do. The three-year-old host did a terrific job of looking after her guests. And her parents chipped in a little, too :)

From what we can gather, the three little ones spent a lot of the evening jumping on a mattress and rolling around on the floor tickling each other. Apparently, there was much giggling. When we did a phone check-in, we were told that all three of them were snuggled up in bed watching Tinkerbell and eating bunny crackers. Awww!

Life is good.

Emma's subconscious (Anna)

Emma has learnt to say "no" recently. She doesn't use it randomly or just to be contrary, but, when she needs to she will shake her head and say "nooooo", or "no, no, no, no".

Last night, she started sleep-talking. As she tossed and turned, she moaned "Nooo, noo, nooo, nooo, nooo."

I'd love to know what sparked it. Did some mean parent take her pink shoes off?

More toddler fury (Anna)

Emma is beautiful when she's furious, even if her fury is also exasperating and exhausting. Which probably sounds very patronizing about her very considerable anger, but there you go.

This morning, we heard the rubbish truck outside so I picked Emma up to look out of the back window. We watched it (the truck, not the window)pick up 3 or 4 bins and turn them upside down , and we listened to its chomping sounds, and we talked about what it was doing.

And then it drove out of sight.

"More!" Emma demanded.

"But it's gone," I told her, and then corrected that to, "It's out of sight. Look. It's around the corner. We can't see it any more."

"More!" she said. "More! More!"

But her terrible, horrible, nasty cruel mother wouldn't make the rubbish truck come back into view, and so there was no more to be had.

She was furious with me, sobbing and crying and screaming, "More!" at me and sinking to the ground in torment. Nothing I could do or say appeased her or distracted her. If she had the language, she would have said, "How can you expect me to be distracted with a cuddle, a book or a saucepan when the rubbish truck has gone!!"

This lasted for a good five minutes, which is a considerable time to be listening to that awful toddler shriek. By the end of it, I was quite inclined to show her the INSIDE of the rubbish truck.

And eventually, I did something that wasn't quite as mean, or she got bored, or something, and peace reigned again.

Sorry, Emmy. I didn't mean to ruin your day.

Two fathers video (Anna)

This has got over 2 million hits on You Tube so far.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qf0puHJ-KM

More moos'k (Anna)

Music is a pretty constant thing in our house, whether it's kids songs, classical, pop, alternative, instrumental or whatever else we feel like. It's often on in the background when we eat, sometimes we sing to it and sometimes we dance to it.

I was having dinner with Emma tonight and we had Tracy Chapman playing in the background. The CD came to an end, but I didn't really notice.
Then Emma started saying "more?"
I said, "more what? What do you want more of? Tofu? Carrot? Rice? Water?"
And she pointed at the IPod and said "more? More...moos'k."

So I started the CD again, and we continued dinner. I started to sing along to Tracy and Emma quietly ate her dinner (apparently, she's a big fan of miso tofu). And then I stopped singing for some reason and Emma looked at me and said "more!" So I started singing again and every time I stopped, Emma clapped her hands and said "more!"

Ladies and gentlemen, who am I to argue? More music it is.

Vashti (Anna)

One of Emma's caregivers at day care is moving on to a new position, so we had to say goodbye this morning.

Vashti - we'll miss you!

Getting better and updates (Anna)

Emma's on the mend, after a brutal four days of fever, crying and misery. The only part I didn't join in on was the fever. And Caroline's program has launched, which is quite the relief.

Heroes of the week:

- Our next-door neighbours, for bringing us a meal (a healthy meal!) one night when cooking felt impossible. There was even enough for lunch the next day. You have earned yourself loyalty for life.

- Our neighbour a few doors down, for making it possible for me to attend Caroline's opening ceremony, and taking Emma for a while when she started climbing up the seats, so that I could see the performance of my script. Thank you!

- The little blue truck, whose beeping through the city has got us through many long hours over the past few days. I love you dearly, little blue truck, and if there has to be a favourite book that gets read over and over...and over and over...I'm glad it's you. But, really, I would be happy never to see you ever again. I predict that you will get lost under the bed in the very near future.


A few updates:

Emma is now tall enough to reach for a bowl of cereal on the kitchen bench and upend it all over her head. Our knowledge of this new trick is, unfortunately, more than just theoretical.

Yesterday, one of her sandals was wet (why was her sandal wet? Oh right. Somebody in our house likes to throw things into the bath...I've tried to tell Caroline to stop it...) She put her foot in it, and then said "No. Wet. No". When did our daughter start to have a problem with wearing wet sandals? And when did she learn the word "wet"?

When she wakes up from a nap on our bed, instead of bawling and waiting for us to go and get her, she happily wriggles off the bed, toddles to the top of the stairs and calls "Mumma?"

She loves to identify everyone. She points to me. "Mumma". She points to Caroline. "Mumma" (we say, "Mummy!" and she repeats Mummy, but then reverts back to Mumma.) And then she points to herself and says "Em-ma."

Alas, gone are the days when any book would do as long as she was cuddled up on our laps and could turn the pages. Now she has - horror! - preferences and will say no ten times if she needs to before we offer her the book she wants.

She is crazy about cars, buses, trucks and aeroplanes.