Monday, June 30, 2014
Addendum
I forgot to mention: the reason Craig made the remark I mentioned in my previous post was because I had said, "How would we have managed today if we had two kids?"
Desensitization therapy
I used to have a fear of flying until I began to travel more frequently -- one year I flew five or six times, and with all that exposure I couldn't maintain my previous level of anxiety. Turns out that it's the same way with vomit.
I missed the first two times that Isaac ever threw up -- back in February, and then on Monday afternoon. I was there on Monday evening for the third time Isaac threw up, and at that point I was really worried about him. However, now that I've been on hand for the fourth, fifth, and sixth times, my fear is lessening. It's still a terrible experience to see my kid sick and miserable, but I'm a lot less anxious about it.
Okay, so I'm cured! Desensitization therapy completed! We don't need any more vomit, thanks.
I missed the first two times that Isaac ever threw up -- back in February, and then on Monday afternoon. I was there on Monday evening for the third time Isaac threw up, and at that point I was really worried about him. However, now that I've been on hand for the fourth, fifth, and sixth times, my fear is lessening. It's still a terrible experience to see my kid sick and miserable, but I'm a lot less anxious about it.
Okay, so I'm cured! Desensitization therapy completed! We don't need any more vomit, thanks.
Work
Isaac began asking what other people were doing when Craig was away last month on a 10-day business trip -- Isaac would say "Don't know what Daddy doing," and I would answer that he was working in Amsterdam. Pretty general answer, but it seemed to satisfy him.
But now our discussions about work have grown more specific, so if you ask Isaac "What does Daddy do at his job?" you are likely to get some of the following responses: work in his lab; send some email; use machine; do science; talk to some people.
Isaac knows what other people do at work, too. Opa's job is to "ride his tractors" and "see how his cat doing." The job of our dog-walker, Mary Ann, is to "walk Walty," while that of Mario, one of our house-cleaners, is to "clean Isaac house."
The other day I asked, "What's Isaac's job?"
He had answers at the ready, no prompting required. "Play with loader in living room," he said, "and talk to Mama." After a moment's consideration, he offered up a favorite topic of conversation: "And talk about the fair."
Then I wondered about my own role, so I asked, "What's Mama's job?" Isaac wasn't sure, so I gave him some ideas. "My most important job is to take care of Isaac," I said, "and I also work at the library picking out the books."
A day or two later I asked him the same question, and he remembered part of the answer. "Take care of Isaac," he said confidently, "and drive station wagon."
It could be worse. At dinner that night I asked Isaac again, hoping to amuse Craig, and Isaac once again said, "Take care of Isaac."
"And what's Mama's other job?" I asked.
Isaac looked around the dining table at our dirty dishes, and said, "And clean the kitchen."
But now our discussions about work have grown more specific, so if you ask Isaac "What does Daddy do at his job?" you are likely to get some of the following responses: work in his lab; send some email; use machine; do science; talk to some people.
Isaac knows what other people do at work, too. Opa's job is to "ride his tractors" and "see how his cat doing." The job of our dog-walker, Mary Ann, is to "walk Walty," while that of Mario, one of our house-cleaners, is to "clean Isaac house."
The other day I asked, "What's Isaac's job?"
He had answers at the ready, no prompting required. "Play with loader in living room," he said, "and talk to Mama." After a moment's consideration, he offered up a favorite topic of conversation: "And talk about the fair."
Then I wondered about my own role, so I asked, "What's Mama's job?" Isaac wasn't sure, so I gave him some ideas. "My most important job is to take care of Isaac," I said, "and I also work at the library picking out the books."
A day or two later I asked him the same question, and he remembered part of the answer. "Take care of Isaac," he said confidently, "and drive station wagon."
It could be worse. At dinner that night I asked Isaac again, hoping to amuse Craig, and Isaac once again said, "Take care of Isaac."
"And what's Mama's other job?" I asked.
Isaac looked around the dining table at our dirty dishes, and said, "And clean the kitchen."
A pretend phone call
Isaac picks up the phone.
"Oma. Isaac go to fair. I like the chickens there. I like pig races too."
Then he hangs up.
"Oma. Isaac go to fair. I like the chickens there. I like pig races too."
Then he hangs up.
Three excretions
A few days after Isaac's illness, he still wasn't feeling his best. He was sitting on my lap and we were talking about being sick. I said, "Throwing up feels bad, doesn't it?"
"Hugging Mama feel good," he said. And he did just that.
- - - - -
Every once in a while, Isaac burps. It isn't that frequent -- he does it much less often than I do -- and no one has bothered to teach him about burping protocol.
That's why, when he burped a few days ago, it was such a surprise to hear him say "Excuse me." He must have learned it by observation, although I'm not sure how often I say it myself.
- - - - -
I haven't written much about Isaac's experiences using the toilet. When he's 12 he may or may not care that his relatives read this blog about his babyhood, but he's unlikely to approve of my having shared the details of his toilet training.
To summarize, since August he has been able to pee on demand when he is put upon the toilet, and he does so most evenings before bed. But just recently he's been waking up with a dry diaper, so I've begun trying to get him on the toilet in the morning as well.
This past Friday morning he sat on the potty, put one hand up to his chin like a toddler-sized Rodin, and said, "Think about the fair." I suggested he also think about peeing, and he proceeded to pee. And then, to his surprise, he also pooped.
Don't tease him about it when he's 12, okay?
"Hugging Mama feel good," he said. And he did just that.
- - - - -
Every once in a while, Isaac burps. It isn't that frequent -- he does it much less often than I do -- and no one has bothered to teach him about burping protocol.
That's why, when he burped a few days ago, it was such a surprise to hear him say "Excuse me." He must have learned it by observation, although I'm not sure how often I say it myself.
- - - - -
I haven't written much about Isaac's experiences using the toilet. When he's 12 he may or may not care that his relatives read this blog about his babyhood, but he's unlikely to approve of my having shared the details of his toilet training.
To summarize, since August he has been able to pee on demand when he is put upon the toilet, and he does so most evenings before bed. But just recently he's been waking up with a dry diaper, so I've begun trying to get him on the toilet in the morning as well.
This past Friday morning he sat on the potty, put one hand up to his chin like a toddler-sized Rodin, and said, "Think about the fair." I suggested he also think about peeing, and he proceeded to pee. And then, to his surprise, he also pooped.
Don't tease him about it when he's 12, okay?
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Good dog, Walt
Here's a trip down memory lane -- these photos were taken when Isaac was five months, seven months, ten months, 18 months, and two years old.(Walt, by the way, was born in February 2004, so he's about a year and a half older than Isaac.)
Walt is a good dog -- and apparently he spends a lot of time sitting on that white IKEA couch.
Tired of your crying
Sorry there's no big post today. Instead I spent an hour and a half this evening trying to help Isaac fall asleep.
After the first hour, I gave up and brought him into the laundry room with me while I finished up the laundry that had been waiting for me. It was about 9:30 p.m. He was happier in there, but he still sounded a little uncertain when he said, "Mama is tired of your crying."
Busted! I must have said that myself when I got him out of bed. Hoping to mitigate the hurtful aspects of my comment, I said, "Yes, I was tired of it. But weren't you tired of crying, too?"
He thought about it, and then agreed.
- - - - -
Also, Mom, sorry I didn't call you tonight. I know it's your birthday! I had plans to call after Isaac was asleep. That didn't work out very well.
After the first hour, I gave up and brought him into the laundry room with me while I finished up the laundry that had been waiting for me. It was about 9:30 p.m. He was happier in there, but he still sounded a little uncertain when he said, "Mama is tired of your crying."
Busted! I must have said that myself when I got him out of bed. Hoping to mitigate the hurtful aspects of my comment, I said, "Yes, I was tired of it. But weren't you tired of crying, too?"
He thought about it, and then agreed.
- - - - -
Also, Mom, sorry I didn't call you tonight. I know it's your birthday! I had plans to call after Isaac was asleep. That didn't work out very well.
Some questions
1) What is Isaac going to be for Halloween?
I don't know. If we can find a little toy hard hat, maybe he'll be a construction worker. He'd probably like that, at least for five or ten minutes. And he could play with the hat after the holiday is over.
It's strange how unenthusiastic I am about Halloween with Isaac. Holidays are supposed to be one of the joys of parenthood -- you know, seeing the magic again through the fresh eyes of your child -- and Halloween was always one of my favorite holidays. I liked the candy, I liked the scary stories, and I loved planning my costume. But I'm not at all excited about planning his costume.
I'm sure I'll like it better when he's older and understands what's going on, and when he has his own ideas for dressing up. I didn't mind choosing a costume for a baby or a one-year-old, but now that he's two and fairly autonomous, I feel funny about dictating his alter ego. It seems odd that I enjoy choosing his regular clothes, but not his Halloween costume! I must believe that a Halloween costume says a lot about someone.
2) What about a Bob the Builder costume?
I'm uneasy about dressing my child as a licensed character. Isaac doesn't know who Bob the Builder is, so it doesn't make any difference to him, but I'd rather that Isaac went as a generic construction worker. Call me a radical, but I'm wary of children's television in general, and that includes media tie-ins. Also, from a costuming perspective, it seems like cheating.
(But Isaac got a very cool Bob the Builder birthday card from his paternal grandparents, and he loved it. When he opened it, he said, "I like trucks. I like tools!")
3) Are you ever going to let Isaac watch TV?
I'm sure he'll end up watching TV sometime in elementary school, as well as playing video games. Just because I'm a radical doesn't mean I don't recognize the value of pop culture. I also want Isaac to be an educated media consumer, so he can understand -- and resist -- its various unsavory messages. That means we're going to have to watch and talk about TV together.
But it's not like I'm making an effort to keep Isaac away from TV, you know -- it just happens naturally since Craig and I don't watch TV or DVDs ourselves.
So Isaac won't watch TV until he starts asking for it. I'm hoping he'll make it past kindergarten, at least, as there are many excellent reasons for little kids to avoid it -- which I won't get into, as this blog post has been preachy enough! However, did you read the recent study that found that "with every hour per day spent watching baby DVDs and videos, infants learned six to eight fewer new vocabulary words than babies who never watched the videos"?
- - - - -
Edited to add:
You know I'm kidding about being a media-rejecting radical, right? I mean, I may not watch TV, but I do read celebrity gossip magazines. Plus I saw every single episode of "Friends." That's about as un-radical as it gets.
I don't know. If we can find a little toy hard hat, maybe he'll be a construction worker. He'd probably like that, at least for five or ten minutes. And he could play with the hat after the holiday is over.
It's strange how unenthusiastic I am about Halloween with Isaac. Holidays are supposed to be one of the joys of parenthood -- you know, seeing the magic again through the fresh eyes of your child -- and Halloween was always one of my favorite holidays. I liked the candy, I liked the scary stories, and I loved planning my costume. But I'm not at all excited about planning his costume.
I'm sure I'll like it better when he's older and understands what's going on, and when he has his own ideas for dressing up. I didn't mind choosing a costume for a baby or a one-year-old, but now that he's two and fairly autonomous, I feel funny about dictating his alter ego. It seems odd that I enjoy choosing his regular clothes, but not his Halloween costume! I must believe that a Halloween costume says a lot about someone.
2) What about a Bob the Builder costume?
I'm uneasy about dressing my child as a licensed character. Isaac doesn't know who Bob the Builder is, so it doesn't make any difference to him, but I'd rather that Isaac went as a generic construction worker. Call me a radical, but I'm wary of children's television in general, and that includes media tie-ins. Also, from a costuming perspective, it seems like cheating.
(But Isaac got a very cool Bob the Builder birthday card from his paternal grandparents, and he loved it. When he opened it, he said, "I like trucks. I like tools!")
3) Are you ever going to let Isaac watch TV?
I'm sure he'll end up watching TV sometime in elementary school, as well as playing video games. Just because I'm a radical doesn't mean I don't recognize the value of pop culture. I also want Isaac to be an educated media consumer, so he can understand -- and resist -- its various unsavory messages. That means we're going to have to watch and talk about TV together.
But it's not like I'm making an effort to keep Isaac away from TV, you know -- it just happens naturally since Craig and I don't watch TV or DVDs ourselves.
So Isaac won't watch TV until he starts asking for it. I'm hoping he'll make it past kindergarten, at least, as there are many excellent reasons for little kids to avoid it -- which I won't get into, as this blog post has been preachy enough! However, did you read the recent study that found that "with every hour per day spent watching baby DVDs and videos, infants learned six to eight fewer new vocabulary words than babies who never watched the videos"?
- - - - -
Edited to add:
You know I'm kidding about being a media-rejecting radical, right? I mean, I may not watch TV, but I do read celebrity gossip magazines. Plus I saw every single episode of "Friends." That's about as un-radical as it gets.
A little bit of wordplay
Language is fun, isn't it?
1) I mentioned last month that Isaac had begun singing "Yankee Doodle Dandy." He has found that the song lends itself readily to adaptation -- how about "Yankee Doodle Daddy"?
2) Another bit of musical wordplay involves a whiffle ball bat and the playing of air guitar -- more specifically, he says he is playing "baseball bat guitar." Get it? Bass guitar? Like Uncle Joel plays?
3) In the course of removing the old siding from our house, we used a small nail-pulling crowbar called a catspaw. Isaac really enjoyed this name, and promptly began to call another type of crowbar, the pry bar, a dogspaw. Then Craig and I started calling it that. We'll probably still be calling it that when Isaac is 50 years old.
4) On his birthday, Isaac opened presents that were wrapped; last week he was playing with my hair, and I told him that he was wrapping some of it around his finger. He thought this use of the same word was pretty cool, and now he plays a game where he entangles his hand in my hair and says, "Mama unwrap present!"
I carefully unwrap the hair, and exclaim with happy surprise, "It's a hand!" Then I give it a kiss.
But yesterday the game changed -- he still winds his hand in my hair and tells me to unwrap the present, but then he immediately pulls his own hand free and says, "Too late; I already unwrapped that present." He does still present his hand for a kiss, however.
1) I mentioned last month that Isaac had begun singing "Yankee Doodle Dandy." He has found that the song lends itself readily to adaptation -- how about "Yankee Doodle Daddy"?
2) Another bit of musical wordplay involves a whiffle ball bat and the playing of air guitar -- more specifically, he says he is playing "baseball bat guitar." Get it? Bass guitar? Like Uncle Joel plays?
3) In the course of removing the old siding from our house, we used a small nail-pulling crowbar called a catspaw. Isaac really enjoyed this name, and promptly began to call another type of crowbar, the pry bar, a dogspaw. Then Craig and I started calling it that. We'll probably still be calling it that when Isaac is 50 years old.
4) On his birthday, Isaac opened presents that were wrapped; last week he was playing with my hair, and I told him that he was wrapping some of it around his finger. He thought this use of the same word was pretty cool, and now he plays a game where he entangles his hand in my hair and says, "Mama unwrap present!"
I carefully unwrap the hair, and exclaim with happy surprise, "It's a hand!" Then I give it a kiss.
But yesterday the game changed -- he still winds his hand in my hair and tells me to unwrap the present, but then he immediately pulls his own hand free and says, "Too late; I already unwrapped that present." He does still present his hand for a kiss, however.
New pictures
Happy Halloween!Here's Isaac's costume, assembled just in time for a playgroup party we attended yesterday morning -- the purchase of a $2.99 plastic hard hat (slightly large!) was the key. Everything else I found around the house: I made his tool belt from an old belt of mine and some duct tape, the hammer and name badge came from the tool kit Aunt Erica gave him for his birthday, the orange t-shirt is a cut-off onesie that got too short, and he's got my old cell phone on his tool belt.
The best thing is that he thinks the costume is one big toy -- he really likes wearing it.
There are a few more costume shots in the album.
And here's a group shot taken at the party yesterday. Full-body plush animal costumes were very popular -- there's a zebra, a lion, a spider, a dog, and a bee. And in the very back is a witch with a black-and-orange fairy princess dress.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
The darn thing
During a recent driving trip there was a fly trapped in our car. It kept buzzing around us, and finally landed on the driver's side window. Craig was driving, and, not taking his eyes off the road, he reached for the button to lower the window. Unfortunately he couldn't locate the button quickly enough, and the fly buzzed off to another part of the car.
"Aarrgh!" Craig said in frustration. "I couldn't find the darn thing!"
Isaac thought this was pretty interesting. "Daddy couldn't find the darn thing," he said several times. Then, perhaps in solidarity, he said, "Isaac can't find the darn thing."
Isaac continued to repeat these two phrases for a few minutes, while Craig and I tried to keep our laughter fairly quiet.
But then we heard Isaac say, "Mama knows where the darn thing is."
"Aarrgh!" Craig said in frustration. "I couldn't find the darn thing!"
Isaac thought this was pretty interesting. "Daddy couldn't find the darn thing," he said several times. Then, perhaps in solidarity, he said, "Isaac can't find the darn thing."
Isaac continued to repeat these two phrases for a few minutes, while Craig and I tried to keep our laughter fairly quiet.
But then we heard Isaac say, "Mama knows where the darn thing is."
Second (or third or fourth) shift
This evening Isaac made a discovery. "Whole family together!" he announced with happy surprise. Then he tried to list us, but since he has trouble counting past two, he repeated himself a little bit. "Isaac, and Mama, and Dad, and Yalty, and Mama, and Isaac, and Dad! And Yalty! And Dad!"
So what prompted his enthusiasm about the "whole family" (including Walt) being together?
In addition to his regular job, Craig has been working extra shifts at another lab in Berkeley. (This happens several times a year.) It was only supposed to last two weeks, but his group ended up getting extra time, so Craig has been working overtime all month long -- and since the Berkeley lab runs 24 hours a day, seven days a week, many of his shifts have had exhausting hours. Did I mention this was in addition to his regular job?
Luckily for me and Isaac, Craig always comes home for dinner and bedtime, so his weekday routine seems unchanged (at least to us). But by the weekend his absences have started to add up. On this Saturday and Sunday, for example, Craig left for work at 4:00 a.m. and didn't get back home until 2:00 p.m. -- and by the time Isaac, who had been napping, woke up, Craig was having his own nap, so they saw very little of each other.
Even though Isaac got to spend all Friday with Craig while I worked, I know Isaac notices the loss of their weekend days together. He doesn't know what day of the week it is, but he does know he isn't seeing as much of his father as he'd like. That's why he's so happy when we're finally all together.
And what did Craig do when he woke up from his nap today, knowing that he'd have to get up at 4:00 a.m. on Monday morning and go to two different jobs? He got right to work at his other job -- he planned dinner, went to the store to fill the propane tank for our grill, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, got Isaac dressed for bed, and read to Isaac.
What a man! He works at least three shifts.
So what prompted his enthusiasm about the "whole family" (including Walt) being together?
In addition to his regular job, Craig has been working extra shifts at another lab in Berkeley. (This happens several times a year.) It was only supposed to last two weeks, but his group ended up getting extra time, so Craig has been working overtime all month long -- and since the Berkeley lab runs 24 hours a day, seven days a week, many of his shifts have had exhausting hours. Did I mention this was in addition to his regular job?
Luckily for me and Isaac, Craig always comes home for dinner and bedtime, so his weekday routine seems unchanged (at least to us). But by the weekend his absences have started to add up. On this Saturday and Sunday, for example, Craig left for work at 4:00 a.m. and didn't get back home until 2:00 p.m. -- and by the time Isaac, who had been napping, woke up, Craig was having his own nap, so they saw very little of each other.
Even though Isaac got to spend all Friday with Craig while I worked, I know Isaac notices the loss of their weekend days together. He doesn't know what day of the week it is, but he does know he isn't seeing as much of his father as he'd like. That's why he's so happy when we're finally all together.
And what did Craig do when he woke up from his nap today, knowing that he'd have to get up at 4:00 a.m. on Monday morning and go to two different jobs? He got right to work at his other job -- he planned dinner, went to the store to fill the propane tank for our grill, cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, got Isaac dressed for bed, and read to Isaac.
What a man! He works at least three shifts.
More than worry
So 100.8 isn't much of a fever, right? But that reading was taken with a thermometer under the arm, so in fact the temperature is probably a degree higher. Is 101.8 a fever to worry about? I think it is. Isn't it?
Yes, Isaac is ill. He's in bed asleep now, so we can't do anything but worry about him -- I mean, it probably doesn't make sense to wake him up just to take his temperature again. Does it? I gave him some baby Tylenol about an hour and a half ago, so that should have helped bring the fever down. Maybe I should just go in there and put my hand on his forehead. Or maybe we should move him to our bed tonight. Just in case.
I don't know what's wrong with him. He didn't have any symptoms besides fever and clinginess, and those only started about two hours ago. Isaac seemed a little unhappy when Craig started getting him ready for bed, but when he begged for his mama to put on his pajamas instead, I knew something was wrong. Sure enough, when I picked him up, he felt hot. Immediately my chest tightened with fear.
I wish he'd gotten sick earlier in the day, so I could have monitored him more closely. Now that he's sleeping all alone in his room, there's no way to tell if he's growing sicker and sicker ...
I know intellectually that kids get sick all the time, and this is almost certainly nothing major, and I should just get used to it. I also know that all parents worry about their kids' health. Craig worries about Isaac too, but mostly he feels sorry that Isaac feels ill. I can't quite get to sympathy, unfortunately -- I get stuck on worry. Actually, it's much more than worry. While of course I'm very sorry that Isaac feels bad, any sympathy is overwhelmed by my primary emotion -- fear.
When I know that someone actually is sick, I can find the strength to handle it, but these borderline cases -- is he sick? how sick is he? what if things get worse and I don't notice it? -- are prime fodder for my type of obsessive-compulsive anxiety disorder. I monitor the situation so closely and have such catastrophic thoughts that I end up putting myself in a panic.
So I won't be resting easy tonight.
Yes, Isaac is ill. He's in bed asleep now, so we can't do anything but worry about him -- I mean, it probably doesn't make sense to wake him up just to take his temperature again. Does it? I gave him some baby Tylenol about an hour and a half ago, so that should have helped bring the fever down. Maybe I should just go in there and put my hand on his forehead. Or maybe we should move him to our bed tonight. Just in case.
I don't know what's wrong with him. He didn't have any symptoms besides fever and clinginess, and those only started about two hours ago. Isaac seemed a little unhappy when Craig started getting him ready for bed, but when he begged for his mama to put on his pajamas instead, I knew something was wrong. Sure enough, when I picked him up, he felt hot. Immediately my chest tightened with fear.
I wish he'd gotten sick earlier in the day, so I could have monitored him more closely. Now that he's sleeping all alone in his room, there's no way to tell if he's growing sicker and sicker ...
I know intellectually that kids get sick all the time, and this is almost certainly nothing major, and I should just get used to it. I also know that all parents worry about their kids' health. Craig worries about Isaac too, but mostly he feels sorry that Isaac feels ill. I can't quite get to sympathy, unfortunately -- I get stuck on worry. Actually, it's much more than worry. While of course I'm very sorry that Isaac feels bad, any sympathy is overwhelmed by my primary emotion -- fear.
When I know that someone actually is sick, I can find the strength to handle it, but these borderline cases -- is he sick? how sick is he? what if things get worse and I don't notice it? -- are prime fodder for my type of obsessive-compulsive anxiety disorder. I monitor the situation so closely and have such catastrophic thoughts that I end up putting myself in a panic.
So I won't be resting easy tonight.
Illness update
Well, we all survived the night.
Isaac was still hot and sweaty when we checked on him at midnight, but he had cooled off by 5:30 a.m. when Craig got up to go to work. This morning his temperature was fine, but he still seemed emotionally fragile -- things upset him easily, and he wanted a lot of hugs.
He was also very tired, despite having slept nearly 11 hours. After he yawned several times, he told me, "Isaac didn't get enough sleep. Need a little nap." He was fairly playful despite his neediness, and so we played outside and ran a few errands. He continued to feel sleepy, though, and by the time he declined lunch altogether he felt hot to the touch. When I took his temperature it was higher than last night -- 101.3 degrees. After some baby Tylenol, a cup of apple cider, and some nursing, he fell right asleep. He's still napping now.
Earlier this morning I managed to get a look in his mouth, and he's about to cut one of his upper molars. The site is bright red and swollen, and looks quite sore. That side of his throat is also reddened, and right before he clamped his jaws shut I thought I saw some little white spots. One way or the other, that explains the lack of appetite.
I called our pediatrician's office and spoke to an advice nurse, and she wasn't concerned. She thought the fever pattern indicated some type of viral infection -- increasing toward evening, highest in the middle of the night, low in the morning, with another spike around midday -- but their office waits for a kid to have a fever for 72 hours before examining him. So unless he begins refusing liquids, becomes very ill, or grows listless, they don't want to see him yet.
The nurse echoed the advice we read last night in Dr. Sears's Baby Book -- with fever it's the behavior rather than the number that matters. A kid with a fever of 105 who can sit up and chat with his mother simply isn't as sick as a kid with a fever of 102 who is slumped over and can't even recognize her face.
Isaac was still hot and sweaty when we checked on him at midnight, but he had cooled off by 5:30 a.m. when Craig got up to go to work. This morning his temperature was fine, but he still seemed emotionally fragile -- things upset him easily, and he wanted a lot of hugs.
He was also very tired, despite having slept nearly 11 hours. After he yawned several times, he told me, "Isaac didn't get enough sleep. Need a little nap." He was fairly playful despite his neediness, and so we played outside and ran a few errands. He continued to feel sleepy, though, and by the time he declined lunch altogether he felt hot to the touch. When I took his temperature it was higher than last night -- 101.3 degrees. After some baby Tylenol, a cup of apple cider, and some nursing, he fell right asleep. He's still napping now.
Earlier this morning I managed to get a look in his mouth, and he's about to cut one of his upper molars. The site is bright red and swollen, and looks quite sore. That side of his throat is also reddened, and right before he clamped his jaws shut I thought I saw some little white spots. One way or the other, that explains the lack of appetite.
I called our pediatrician's office and spoke to an advice nurse, and she wasn't concerned. She thought the fever pattern indicated some type of viral infection -- increasing toward evening, highest in the middle of the night, low in the morning, with another spike around midday -- but their office waits for a kid to have a fever for 72 hours before examining him. So unless he begins refusing liquids, becomes very ill, or grows listless, they don't want to see him yet.
The nurse echoed the advice we read last night in Dr. Sears's Baby Book -- with fever it's the behavior rather than the number that matters. A kid with a fever of 105 who can sit up and chat with his mother simply isn't as sick as a kid with a fever of 102 who is slumped over and can't even recognize her face.
Escaping consumer culture
I'm reading a book by Susan Gregory Thomas entitled Buy, Buy Baby: How Consumer Culture Manipulates Parents and Harms Young Minds, and as you might be able to guess if you're a regular reader of this blog, my choir is totally enjoying the sermon.
The author covers a lot of ground, but the part I found most interesting was her review of the scientific studies on the effects that television, marketing, and 'characters' have on children from birth to three years old -- that's the "harms young minds" part of the subtitle, and her argument is quite convincing. It's fascinating and frightening stuff. But less effective, to me, is the "manipulates parents" aspect of the subtitle, especially the author's thoughts on marketing to Generation X parents.
Perhaps an important aspect of being a member of Generation X is denying that you resemble the offensively broad generalizations used to describe your generation. So I can't deny that I am a member of my generation, but the generalizations that this author makes about us -- that we were latchkey kids, raised by the TV, who begged for the stuff we saw on TV, which our parents then bought us to reduce their guilt at neglecting us -- just don't apply to me. During my formative years, either my mother or father or both stayed home -- I suffered not from parental neglect, but from overprotectiveness! -- and I really don't remember watching much television or wanting much stuff I saw advertised. I certainly don't have nostalgia for Strawberry Shortcake or other pop culture crap of the day.
"And maybe that's why," I thought to myself somewhat smugly as I began to congratulate myself, "I am so successfully avoiding the threats of the book's subtitle -- the manipulation that consumer culture uses to get Gen X parents to buy stuff for their kids. I am immune! I am above all that! I can see right through them ..."
Then I read this paragraph:
So I'm just like everyone else after all, and I can stop congratulating myself right now. Even if I do buy many of Isaac's clothes second-hand, there's no escaping consumer culture. All I can do is try to stay aware, and try my best to resist.
The author covers a lot of ground, but the part I found most interesting was her review of the scientific studies on the effects that television, marketing, and 'characters' have on children from birth to three years old -- that's the "harms young minds" part of the subtitle, and her argument is quite convincing. It's fascinating and frightening stuff. But less effective, to me, is the "manipulates parents" aspect of the subtitle, especially the author's thoughts on marketing to Generation X parents.
Perhaps an important aspect of being a member of Generation X is denying that you resemble the offensively broad generalizations used to describe your generation. So I can't deny that I am a member of my generation, but the generalizations that this author makes about us -- that we were latchkey kids, raised by the TV, who begged for the stuff we saw on TV, which our parents then bought us to reduce their guilt at neglecting us -- just don't apply to me. During my formative years, either my mother or father or both stayed home -- I suffered not from parental neglect, but from overprotectiveness! -- and I really don't remember watching much television or wanting much stuff I saw advertised. I certainly don't have nostalgia for Strawberry Shortcake or other pop culture crap of the day.
"And maybe that's why," I thought to myself somewhat smugly as I began to congratulate myself, "I am so successfully avoiding the threats of the book's subtitle -- the manipulation that consumer culture uses to get Gen X parents to buy stuff for their kids. I am immune! I am above all that! I can see right through them ..."
Then I read this paragraph:
Generation X's twin penchants for attachment parenting and shopping have also produced the rise in popularity of mini-me fashions in the past decade. To Generation-X mothers, the cutesy, froufrou baby clothes of the past were tacky and foolish-looking; dressing their babies in traditional infant clothes somehow translates to a deeper sense of objectification, a neglect of the babies' personhood. The Gen-X mother identifies with her baby and wants to dress her in the same kinds of outfits she herself wore. (pp. 147-48)
So I'm just like everyone else after all, and I can stop congratulating myself right now. Even if I do buy many of Isaac's clothes second-hand, there's no escaping consumer culture. All I can do is try to stay aware, and try my best to resist.
Friday, June 27, 2014
26 month milestones
At work yesterday someone asked me what Isaac's new developments were. I found myself at a loss.
It turns out that I've been forgetting to think of Isaac in child development terms -- he just is himself. This may sound healthy -- I'm not comparing him to a development checklist or to his peers -- but honestly it can be a problem. This is especially true since his language has gotten so sophisticated -- I find myself assuming that because he can speak, he understands everything and is more mature than he really is. But of course he's still only 26 months old, and he's gradually developing all the time.
So here are some things that are new with Isaac -- not "milestones," exactly, but new aspects of his life.
*I turned out to be wrong about the bath! I got him into the tub, but despite my best attempts at making it fun -- geysers, tea party, the Talking Clam -- he didn't want to sit down. So I gave him an quick and abbreviated scrub, then let him get out. I'm willing to force him to do the things that really matter, but this wasn't worth a battle.
It turns out that I've been forgetting to think of Isaac in child development terms -- he just is himself. This may sound healthy -- I'm not comparing him to a development checklist or to his peers -- but honestly it can be a problem. This is especially true since his language has gotten so sophisticated -- I find myself assuming that because he can speak, he understands everything and is more mature than he really is. But of course he's still only 26 months old, and he's gradually developing all the time.
So here are some things that are new with Isaac -- not "milestones," exactly, but new aspects of his life.
- Whenever anyone is cooking, he likes to push the dining room chairs into the kitchen so he can reach the countertops and sink. This worried me at first, but he's only fallen off a chair once, and he never tries to grab the knives. (He has been warned about them in the past, and he remembers it -- he continues to be a cautious child. He's also cautious around the stove, but we don't give him the opportunity to make a mistake there -- if something is on the cooktop, he has got to stay away.) He especially likes to run water in the sink and dump salt on the counter. He then likes to eat the salt.
- He hasn't yet become a picky eater -- or at least he eats the same things we do, and we're not picky eaters. If we cook something brand new, however, he's a little resistant to it, so I guess we should be sure to continue to broaden all of our horizons. One of his favorite dishes is pasta tossed with sauteed Swiss chard and garlic, topped with plenty of grated Parmesan cheese. He also loves spinach lasagna, yogurt, pickles, eggs, broccoli, sour cream, and anything sweet. He's not crazy about meat, but he'll eat it.
- His temperament is still quite agreeable -- usually he doesn't have trouble with transitions, he's at least willing to consider going along with what I suggest, and he doesn't freak out when he doesn't get what he wants. But when he's tired he shows signs of the Terrible Twos. Earlier today, for instance, he had this to say in response to my suggestions: "Not change the diaper and take a bath! Not do that! I don't want to do that!" However, he still doesn't throw many tantrums, which I think we've avoided because he can communicate so well. For example, knowing how he felt, I postponed the diaper and bath. Also, I figured it would work out better with another (perhaps sneakier!) approach if I just waited a little while.*
- The kid is totally into nursery rhymes, poems, and song lyrics. If you recite or sing something new to him, he'll stare intently into your face until you're done. Then he'll say, "Again." He's always enjoyed hearing nursery rhymes, but he's only recently gotten excited by the big nursery rhyme collection I bought him nearly a year ago -- he wants to hear them all, even the obscure (and frankly not very good) ones. He still memorizes things amazingly quickly, even when he doesn't know what the words mean. The other night he was singing "Camptown Races" by himself, and after he sung "Bet my money on the bobtail nag / Somebody bet on the bay," he paused. "Don't know what that means," he said.
- He likes to throw things on the floor. He's like a hurricane -- he goes through a room sweeping items off the tabletop, emptying the magazine rack, turning storage bins of toys upside down. This bugs me a lot! If he threw stuff on the floor and then played with it, it would be okay, but he just wants to toss it down and ignore it. He does it cheerfully, even joyfully, rather than as part of a tantrum, and he has never thrown anything breakable -- he'll leave a coffee cup safely on the table, for instance, even as he throws the items surrounding it. About a month ago I decided I was going to reduce the number of things he has available to throw, so I took away the two bins of play kitchen items -- play food, little plastic dishes, tiny metal pots and pans. But I also invented a new game to try to harness this energy -- I stack up eight or nine empty cardboard food containers, like cracker boxes and egg cartons, then let him whack down the tower with a mop handle. We'll see if it helps.
*I turned out to be wrong about the bath! I got him into the tub, but despite my best attempts at making it fun -- geysers, tea party, the Talking Clam -- he didn't want to sit down. So I gave him an quick and abbreviated scrub, then let him get out. I'm willing to force him to do the things that really matter, but this wasn't worth a battle.
The new regime
Well, we've reached the point where I'm taking sleep advice from a book. (To be specific, Sleepless in America: Is Your Child Misbehaving or Missing Sleep?) I have read a few books on sleep before, but this is the first time I've actually followed any of the advice!
Ever since the time change ten nights ago, Isaac has been getting less sleep -- he wakes up an hour earlier but we still put him to bed at the same old time. I think these short nights have made him so tired that he can't stay asleep all night -- twice he was awake for stretches lasting an hour and a half, which is grueling for everyone concerned. Even when he doesn't actually wake up enough to require our help, he cries out in his sleep, mostly terrified shrieks but sometimes things like, "No! No! I don't want to!" Just as bad as the night-time problems are his daytime mood and behavior, which have ranged from miserable to awful. (He also says, "No! No! I don't want to!" during the day.)
Yes, it could be his molars, or it could be that he's entering the terrible twos, but one thing's for sure -- he's overtired. And at least we can do something about that.
So we're going to give the book's advice a try, although it's a great deal more regimented than we're used to. The author suggests calculating a regular bedtime based on your child's natural wake-up time, which I'd never tried before -- I had just picked a bedtime that was convenient for us, and that would theoretically have gotten Isaac enough sleep (if he had actually fallen asleep at that time, I mean). The author also points out that to keep your child's schedule regular, you will need to enforce his wake-up time. Drat. I've always let Isaac wake up on his own, which meant the time ranged from 6:00 to 8:00 a.m. However, perhaps that wide variation contributed to his difficulty falling asleep, and also explained why he was falling asleep at times ranging from 7:45 to 10:15 p.m.
So here are the steps we followed:
I'm serious about the new regime, although I'm not happy about it. We now have a schedule fastened to our refrigerator, and today I left a playdate 45 minutes early so we could get home in time for our newly scheduled lunchtime. You may have thought this would come naturally because we already use Trixie Tracker to record Isaac's sleep, but you would be wrong. There's a big difference between tracking the time that events happen and scheduling them to happen at a certain time. One is observing; the other is manipulating. (Despite my complaints, the new timetable isn't that different -- bedtime is half an hour earlier, but the main difference is that the nap is a whole hour earlier, which also makes our lunchtime strangely early.)
Is it working? It's only been two nights so far, but he slept ten hours for both of them, just like the schedule shows. (However, both nights he woke up in terror just after midnight and spent the rest of the night in our bed, where I could easily comfort him.)
Here's the new schedule, so you can follow along at home:
6:30 a.m. -- wake up
11:30 a.m. -- eat lunch
12:00 p.m. -- get ready for nap
12:30 p.m. -- fall asleep
2:30 p.m. -- wake up
3:00 p.m. -- eat snack
6:30 p.m. -- eat dinner
7:00 p.m. -- get ready for bed
8:00 p.m. -- lie down
8:30 p.m. -- fall asleep
Ever since the time change ten nights ago, Isaac has been getting less sleep -- he wakes up an hour earlier but we still put him to bed at the same old time. I think these short nights have made him so tired that he can't stay asleep all night -- twice he was awake for stretches lasting an hour and a half, which is grueling for everyone concerned. Even when he doesn't actually wake up enough to require our help, he cries out in his sleep, mostly terrified shrieks but sometimes things like, "No! No! I don't want to!" Just as bad as the night-time problems are his daytime mood and behavior, which have ranged from miserable to awful. (He also says, "No! No! I don't want to!" during the day.)
Yes, it could be his molars, or it could be that he's entering the terrible twos, but one thing's for sure -- he's overtired. And at least we can do something about that.
So we're going to give the book's advice a try, although it's a great deal more regimented than we're used to. The author suggests calculating a regular bedtime based on your child's natural wake-up time, which I'd never tried before -- I had just picked a bedtime that was convenient for us, and that would theoretically have gotten Isaac enough sleep (if he had actually fallen asleep at that time, I mean). The author also points out that to keep your child's schedule regular, you will need to enforce his wake-up time. Drat. I've always let Isaac wake up on his own, which meant the time ranged from 6:00 to 8:00 a.m. However, perhaps that wide variation contributed to his difficulty falling asleep, and also explained why he was falling asleep at times ranging from 7:45 to 10:15 p.m.
So here are the steps we followed:
(1) How much sleep does your child need in a 24 hour period?
We're going with 12 hours, slightly less than the national average for kids his age.
(2) At what time does your child naturally wake up?
Since the time change Isaac has been waking up between 6:00 and 7:00 a.m., so we'll say 6:30.
(3) How long does your child nap during the day?
When he's overtired Isaac will nap until we wake him up -- and boy is it tempting to just let him sleep! -- but he does best with a two-hour nap.
(4) How long will your child need to sleep at night? At what time will he need to fall asleep?
Ten hours, which gives him a fall-asleep time of 8:30 p.m.
(5) How long does your child usually take to fall asleep? At what time will you need to put him into bed?
Recently it has taken Isaac from five minutes to one hour to fall asleep, so let's split the difference at 30 minutes. This means he needs to be in bed at 8:00 p.m.
I'm serious about the new regime, although I'm not happy about it. We now have a schedule fastened to our refrigerator, and today I left a playdate 45 minutes early so we could get home in time for our newly scheduled lunchtime. You may have thought this would come naturally because we already use Trixie Tracker to record Isaac's sleep, but you would be wrong. There's a big difference between tracking the time that events happen and scheduling them to happen at a certain time. One is observing; the other is manipulating. (Despite my complaints, the new timetable isn't that different -- bedtime is half an hour earlier, but the main difference is that the nap is a whole hour earlier, which also makes our lunchtime strangely early.)
Is it working? It's only been two nights so far, but he slept ten hours for both of them, just like the schedule shows. (However, both nights he woke up in terror just after midnight and spent the rest of the night in our bed, where I could easily comfort him.)
Here's the new schedule, so you can follow along at home:
6:30 a.m. -- wake up
11:30 a.m. -- eat lunch
12:00 p.m. -- get ready for nap
12:30 p.m. -- fall asleep
2:30 p.m. -- wake up
3:00 p.m. -- eat snack
6:30 p.m. -- eat dinner
7:00 p.m. -- get ready for bed
8:00 p.m. -- lie down
8:30 p.m. -- fall asleep
Birdwatching
Isaac looks out the window and spots the bird I've just pointed out. Then he says, "That's not a junco; that's a kookaburra."
He laughs. First Craig taught Isaac the song about the Australian bird, and then he and Isaac looked up pictures and bird calls on the Internet, and now Isaac thinks it is funny to pretend our Northern California birds are kookaburras.
Isaac does know a few local birds by sight and by call -- jays and mourning doves, owls and quail. He likes to claim that every small bird is a chickadee, but that's because he likes to make their call. He thinks "oak titmouse" is a hilarious name for a bird, and he's got a point.
He laughs. First Craig taught Isaac the song about the Australian bird, and then he and Isaac looked up pictures and bird calls on the Internet, and now Isaac thinks it is funny to pretend our Northern California birds are kookaburras.
Isaac does know a few local birds by sight and by call -- jays and mourning doves, owls and quail. He likes to claim that every small bird is a chickadee, but that's because he likes to make their call. He thinks "oak titmouse" is a hilarious name for a bird, and he's got a point.
New pictures
Who got to drive the wheel loader when we visited Oma and Opa for Halloween? Who was really excited about it?If you think it was my father, you may be right! But Isaac had a good time, too.
A few new photos from our visit are in the album.
A few numbers
1) Can Isaac count? He can count to two, and he can even identify a grouping of two objects at a glance without having to stop to count them. He knows the names of other numbers, because he can recite the numbers from one to ten with varying levels of accuracy -- he gets up to four, things often get muddled in the middle, and then he pulls it together for "Eight, nine, ten!" (This ability is sheer memorization, and it hasn't improved any in the six months he's been able to do it. Maybe we don't practice it enough.)
But I haven't been sure that he could comprehendingly count past two. However, last week we stopped at a series of closely-spaced stop signs while we were driving. "One stop sign, two stop signs," Isaac said, counting the first two. Ten seconds later, when we came to another, he said, "Three stop signs!"
2) I don't have any idea when kids are supposed to learn to count, but Isaac is much more interested in letters than he is in numbers. Maybe he would internalize his numbers faster if he were less good at talking. He knows how old he is, but instead of holding up two fingers when he's asked his age, which might give him a physical sense of the quantity, he answers, "Two years old."
But maybe that bodes well for him. After all, I use my fingers when I'm doing addition, and math was always a challenge for me (although I got an A in high school geometry -- after I failed it the first time).
3) Isaac likes to play with the ruler, and especially the tape measure. When he's pretending to measure something, usually I ask him, "Is it big or little?" He knows from observing us while we work that things are measured using numbers, but he usually sticks to saying things are either big or little. However, recently he was using the ruler to measure the wall, and we heard him say, "Twenty bigs!"
"Wow," Craig said. "That's pretty big! Is it twenty inches tall?"
"Twenty big inches," Isaac agreed.
(Isaac continued to play with the ruler, which is blue, and a few moments later he held it up and said, "Blue ruler. Blue-ler!" So I have to agree with him -- letters are more fun than numbers.)
But I haven't been sure that he could comprehendingly count past two. However, last week we stopped at a series of closely-spaced stop signs while we were driving. "One stop sign, two stop signs," Isaac said, counting the first two. Ten seconds later, when we came to another, he said, "Three stop signs!"
2) I don't have any idea when kids are supposed to learn to count, but Isaac is much more interested in letters than he is in numbers. Maybe he would internalize his numbers faster if he were less good at talking. He knows how old he is, but instead of holding up two fingers when he's asked his age, which might give him a physical sense of the quantity, he answers, "Two years old."
But maybe that bodes well for him. After all, I use my fingers when I'm doing addition, and math was always a challenge for me (although I got an A in high school geometry -- after I failed it the first time).
3) Isaac likes to play with the ruler, and especially the tape measure. When he's pretending to measure something, usually I ask him, "Is it big or little?" He knows from observing us while we work that things are measured using numbers, but he usually sticks to saying things are either big or little. However, recently he was using the ruler to measure the wall, and we heard him say, "Twenty bigs!"
"Wow," Craig said. "That's pretty big! Is it twenty inches tall?"
"Twenty big inches," Isaac agreed.
(Isaac continued to play with the ruler, which is blue, and a few moments later he held it up and said, "Blue ruler. Blue-ler!" So I have to agree with him -- letters are more fun than numbers.)
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Spot the holiday
Total hours awake in each 24-hour period:
These have been the past eleven days with our new schedule. It was looking pretty regular, wasn't it? My original estimate was that Isaac needed to be awake 12 hours per 24-hour period, although it clearly needs to be revised to 12 and a half hours.
And then there's that darn 14-hour day. Well, what can you do? It just takes extra time to eat all that pie and spend time with the relatives. The schedule was blown, but at least Isaac had a fun time at his Great-Grandma Lee's house, and perhaps his good mood was partially due to his being well-rested in the first place. Happy Thanksgiving!
12 hours
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 30 minutes
12 hours, 15 minutes
14 hours
These have been the past eleven days with our new schedule. It was looking pretty regular, wasn't it? My original estimate was that Isaac needed to be awake 12 hours per 24-hour period, although it clearly needs to be revised to 12 and a half hours.
And then there's that darn 14-hour day. Well, what can you do? It just takes extra time to eat all that pie and spend time with the relatives. The schedule was blown, but at least Isaac had a fun time at his Great-Grandma Lee's house, and perhaps his good mood was partially due to his being well-rested in the first place. Happy Thanksgiving!
Happy Black Friday!
Since we arrived at my parents' house yesterday, Isaac's constant companion has been a 25-year-old plastic bulldozer -- rather faded, a little chipped, totally non-electronic. It used to belong to my brother, was handed down to my cousins, and has now come back to us.He couldn't be happier even if we had gotten in line at 6:00 a.m. to buy something brand new at Toys R Us.
Schedule assessment
You may be wondering how the new schedule has been going. It's been almost two weeks (we've completed 13 nights), so it's time for an assessment.
Of the past 13 nights, most of them met the goal of Isaac sleeping for ten hours. (Two nights were an hour or more too short, and one night was 40 minutes too long.) The time that Isaac wakes up has been quite regular, usually within 15 minutes of the goal of 6:30 a.m. Perhaps because of this regularity, the goal of an 8:30 p.m. bedtime is also working out fairly well -- on ten nights he's fallen asleep before 9:00 p.m. His bedtime hasn't been so early since he was 16 months old!
That's fine, you may be saying, but what about the real goals, the reasons for making the schedule in the first place? How is his mood? How is his behavior? Is he falling asleep any easier? Is he still waking up at night in a panic?
Unfortunately, the answer to that last question is a definite "yes" -- he cries out multiple times every night, and on ten of the past 13 nights he's woken up enough to need help getting back to sleep. I'm hoping this will improve when his last two molars come in.
As far as his falling asleep, it isn't any "easier," but that's one benefit I get from the schedule: since I had to schedule time for it, I had to admit that it simply takes time for Isaac to fall asleep, and I can no longer delude myself that I can set him down at 8:25 p.m. and expect him to fall asleep in five minutes. In drawing up the schedule I gave him 30 minutes to fall asleep, and he's taken at least that long every night but one. So this has cured me of being upset that he's not going to get enough sleep because he's not falling asleep quickly enough -- it's up to me to put him to bed early enough, and it's up to him to fall asleep. It also helps me to not feel so frustrated that my evening is being consumed by his bedtime routine -- if I am committed to helping him fall asleep, and I am, then I need to be willing to help for the length of time he requires, rather than the length of time I wish it took.
The real measure of the schedule's success is Isaac's happiness. Now that he's well-rested again, the kid has been in a great mood, his behavior is once again that of a standard-issue two-year-old, and it's a true pleasure to be with him. Before we implemented the schedule, he was missing either lunch or dinner every few days because he couldn't control himself long enough to sit still and eat -- he was so tired that he would throw his meal to the floor and cry, and he'd have to be whisked off to bed immediately. The behavior change is impressive. He sometimes still throws his food on the floor, but at least it's because he chose to do so, not because he was too exhausted to eat it!
Of the past 13 nights, most of them met the goal of Isaac sleeping for ten hours. (Two nights were an hour or more too short, and one night was 40 minutes too long.) The time that Isaac wakes up has been quite regular, usually within 15 minutes of the goal of 6:30 a.m. Perhaps because of this regularity, the goal of an 8:30 p.m. bedtime is also working out fairly well -- on ten nights he's fallen asleep before 9:00 p.m. His bedtime hasn't been so early since he was 16 months old!
That's fine, you may be saying, but what about the real goals, the reasons for making the schedule in the first place? How is his mood? How is his behavior? Is he falling asleep any easier? Is he still waking up at night in a panic?
Unfortunately, the answer to that last question is a definite "yes" -- he cries out multiple times every night, and on ten of the past 13 nights he's woken up enough to need help getting back to sleep. I'm hoping this will improve when his last two molars come in.
As far as his falling asleep, it isn't any "easier," but that's one benefit I get from the schedule: since I had to schedule time for it, I had to admit that it simply takes time for Isaac to fall asleep, and I can no longer delude myself that I can set him down at 8:25 p.m. and expect him to fall asleep in five minutes. In drawing up the schedule I gave him 30 minutes to fall asleep, and he's taken at least that long every night but one. So this has cured me of being upset that he's not going to get enough sleep because he's not falling asleep quickly enough -- it's up to me to put him to bed early enough, and it's up to him to fall asleep. It also helps me to not feel so frustrated that my evening is being consumed by his bedtime routine -- if I am committed to helping him fall asleep, and I am, then I need to be willing to help for the length of time he requires, rather than the length of time I wish it took.
The real measure of the schedule's success is Isaac's happiness. Now that he's well-rested again, the kid has been in a great mood, his behavior is once again that of a standard-issue two-year-old, and it's a true pleasure to be with him. Before we implemented the schedule, he was missing either lunch or dinner every few days because he couldn't control himself long enough to sit still and eat -- he was so tired that he would throw his meal to the floor and cry, and he'd have to be whisked off to bed immediately. The behavior change is impressive. He sometimes still throws his food on the floor, but at least it's because he chose to do so, not because he was too exhausted to eat it!
Two books
"Got two books at the library yesterday," Isaac said tonight as he was supposed to be falling asleep. "Called I Love Tractors and I Play with Tractors."
We did get two books about tractors at the library yesterday, but (as you might have guessed) those are not the titles. I think Isaac might have been making a joke, because he does know the actual names of the books.* Or maybe he was using book titles as an allegory for his own life.
I don't take Isaac to our local library very often, mostly because I work at a better library -- better collection, better borrowing policies, and plus I'm already there once a week so it's easy to pick up my requests and return items. Isaac is still very excited when I return from work bearing books, and he always enjoys the books I bring him, but I should also take him to the library in person -- he's old enough to begin learning how to choose his own books, a skill that will last him throughout his life.
We had two particular titles in mind yesterday, so we looked them up in the online catalog before we went to the library. Isaac enjoyed this process, especially looking at the little pictures of the covers. We stopped off at the library's cafe first and split a chocolate-chocolate chip cookie. Isaac enjoyed this as well, and he ate his half very slowly as he sat straight and serious at our little table. Later we walked through the plaza in front of the library and looked at the sculpture on display. It was like a date.
- - - - -
*The books were Digger Man and Dig, Dig, Digging, if you must know. I have my problems with Digger Man, which I will perhaps address in a future post.
We did get two books about tractors at the library yesterday, but (as you might have guessed) those are not the titles. I think Isaac might have been making a joke, because he does know the actual names of the books.* Or maybe he was using book titles as an allegory for his own life.
I don't take Isaac to our local library very often, mostly because I work at a better library -- better collection, better borrowing policies, and plus I'm already there once a week so it's easy to pick up my requests and return items. Isaac is still very excited when I return from work bearing books, and he always enjoys the books I bring him, but I should also take him to the library in person -- he's old enough to begin learning how to choose his own books, a skill that will last him throughout his life.
We had two particular titles in mind yesterday, so we looked them up in the online catalog before we went to the library. Isaac enjoyed this process, especially looking at the little pictures of the covers. We stopped off at the library's cafe first and split a chocolate-chocolate chip cookie. Isaac enjoyed this as well, and he ate his half very slowly as he sat straight and serious at our little table. Later we walked through the plaza in front of the library and looked at the sculpture on display. It was like a date.
- - - - -
*The books were Digger Man and Dig, Dig, Digging, if you must know. I have my problems with Digger Man, which I will perhaps address in a future post.
Blah blah blah
There's a lot of talking going on around here. I've got scraps of paper in every room with quotes scribbled on them, so here's a round-up from the last few days:
Since he often talks with such proficiently, I'm afraid that pretty soon I'm going to have to stop writing posts like this. When does it stop being interesting that your kid can string together a sentence? I mean, no one follows a ten-year-old around writing down everything he says so they can post it on the Internet. Well, maybe I've got a year or two left before I need to find a different angle.
Yesterday Isaac was exploring the walk-in closet in the master bedroom, and he noticed the detached side panel of his crib leaning up against the wall. We removed it way back in March to make his toddler bed, so I'm not sure he even remembers sleeping in an actual crib. I explained that his bed used to have four sides, and he thought about this for a moment. "Now it only has three sides," he said. (What do you think? Did he do subtraction? Or did he just visualize and count the remaining three sides in his head?)
By some lucky coincidence, Isaac has pooped on the toilet for two days in a row. (It's a coincidence because it's not like he asked to sit on the toilet either time, and I didn't expect him to do anything more than pee. But somehow he managed to deliver.) He feels pretty good about it. At first he said it made him happy, and then he said he wouldn't need the changing table any more, and then today he said, "Isaac getting to be a man."
This comment, however, contradicts another of Isaac's recent remarks -- after looking at his own bare chest, he said, "Those are nipples. Must be woman."
This morning we were supposed to meet a group of friends at a coffee shop / indoor playground in Oakland. We had never been there before, so I tried to describe it to Isaac -- it has a variety of pretend play areas, including a train table, a fire station, and a grocery store. To my surprise, he didn't want to go. He said very firmly, "I don't want to go anywhere; I want to stay here and play outside." I figured he would change his mind, so I started getting ready to go anyway, but he actually began whining and stomping his feet. So we didn't go. Instead we went outside and weeded the garden.
And just a little late for Thanksgiving, Isaac had a very sweet thing to say about the dinner I made for the two of us last night. Without any prompting he turned to me and said, "Thank you, Mama, for the yummy muffin. And chili. And corn. Thank you for the yummy dinner, Mama."
Since he often talks with such proficiently, I'm afraid that pretty soon I'm going to have to stop writing posts like this. When does it stop being interesting that your kid can string together a sentence? I mean, no one follows a ten-year-old around writing down everything he says so they can post it on the Internet. Well, maybe I've got a year or two left before I need to find a different angle.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Schedule re-assessment
You may be wondering why I haven't written much lately. It's because I've been using every minute of my evening to get Isaac to sleep, then falling miserably and exhaustedly into bed myself.
Yeah, I know I wrote that things were going well, and I stand by what I said, or at least most of it. But there were four nights in a row when Izzy took so long to fall asleep -- an hour or an hour and a half -- that I am reconsidering the whole idea of a schedule. Maybe we should just let him put himself to sleep when he gets tired -- he can curl up in the corner of the room like a little dog. It would happen eventually, right?
On the other hand, he continues to be in a pleasant mood during the day. Letting him get so exhausted that he falls to the ground would probably put an end to that.
Yeah, I know I wrote that things were going well, and I stand by what I said, or at least most of it. But there were four nights in a row when Izzy took so long to fall asleep -- an hour or an hour and a half -- that I am reconsidering the whole idea of a schedule. Maybe we should just let him put himself to sleep when he gets tired -- he can curl up in the corner of the room like a little dog. It would happen eventually, right?
On the other hand, he continues to be in a pleasant mood during the day. Letting him get so exhausted that he falls to the ground would probably put an end to that.
Holiday traditions
Last night as we hung decorations I said to Craig, "Having a Christmas tree makes me feel like a real grown-up."He gave me a funny look, and I know why. I'm 38 years old*, after all, and I have a graduate degree, a mortgage, a husband, and a child. Oh, don't worry, I definitely feel like an adult, and I'm happy about it, too -- no mid-life crisis here, no resentment of my responsibilities, no romanticizing of my footloose 20s.
But I also feel like my parents' child, in the best possible way, and holidays intensify that feeling. Until 2005, the year Isaac was born, I never even had a Christmas tree of my own -- I always show up at my parents' house several days before Christmas, so what was the point? And except for with my parents, I've never cooked a Thanksgiving dish, opened a Christmas stocking, dyed an Easter egg, or gone Halloween trick or treating. My parents themselves still go to my grandmother's house to celebrate most holidays, so this generational dependence is part of our family tradition. I truly enjoy it, but now I'm aware that Isaac is tagging along on the traditions of my childhood.
So it came as a pleasant surprise last night, the feeling of being an autonomous adult while decorating my third-ever Christmas tree with Isaac and Craig. We have our own little traditions by now -- for the last three years we've all gone together to the same Christmas tree lot, and we've hung the same ornaments and listened to the same records. And no matter what we do, we're shaping Isaac's traditions now, and our own as a family. (Obviously this is true every single day of the year, not just on holidays!)
I had an especially dour boyfriend in college who thought my family's enthusiastic celebration of holidays in my childhood had ruined future holidays for me. He said, "I feel sorry for your future husband. He'll never be able to live up to your high holiday expectations." But he was just being pessimistic (as usual). My childhood experiences were an important foundation -- in addition to being fun, they gave me security and attachment -- but now I truly don't need anyone else to make the holidays special for me.
So I guess that means I'm ready to try to pass that specialness on to Isaac.
- - - - -
*It's my birthday today!
- - - - -
Picture taken at Bob's Christmas Trees in December 2005 when Isaac was three months old.
Reincarnation?
One evening when Isaac kissed an unshaven Craig good night, he recoiled a bit from the whiskers, then opted to kiss me instead. Later we were discussing the differences between the faces of men and women.
"Isaac will grow whiskers someday too, when he's a much bigger boy," I said.
"Man," Isaac corrected me.
"Yes, it probably won't happen until you're a man," I agreed.
"Next time Isaac be woman," he said.
"Boys do usually grow up to be men," I said.
"Maybe next time, Isaac grow up be woman. Maybe next time," he said.
"Isaac will grow whiskers someday too, when he's a much bigger boy," I said.
"Man," Isaac corrected me.
"Yes, it probably won't happen until you're a man," I agreed.
"Next time Isaac be woman," he said.
"Boys do usually grow up to be men," I said.
"Maybe next time, Isaac grow up be woman. Maybe next time," he said.
All done
Yes, I am still writing a blog here, although it might not look like it. What's been keeping me busy? Choose from the following handy list:
I'm telling the truth -- Isaac didn't nap today -- but I'm also totally exaggerating. I can take a shower and eat while Isaac is awake. I can even clean the kitchen and address Christmas cards. I can do just about everything but blog, because whenever I try to type at length, Isaac throws objects at the keyboard and says, "Mama all done typing!" He'll tolerate a quick check of my email, but that's about it.
He sometimes objects to my reading the newspaper or talking on the phone (although it's pointless to say "Mama all done reading!" to me). I can understand his reasoning there -- I look like I should be available to him, since I'm sitting right there in front of him, but an inanimate object is stealing my focus. This doesn't happen all the time, thankfully. He's got a good attention span for a two-year-old, and he plays for a long time by himself, especially if I give him occasional input to keep his game going. (He doesn't object as strongly when I'm reading a book -- it's usually the newspaper he complains about.)
In all of these cases I say, "I am not done yet. But is there something you would like to say to me? I am listening." If he's been throwing objects or trying to pull the newspaper out of my hands, I add, "You don't need to get my attention that way -- you can tell me in words."
He's also begun complaining when I'm talking to another adult who is in the room with us. He usually gives no sign that he'd like some attention, and he'll appear to be playing happily by himself. Then suddenly he'll say loudly, "All done talking, all done talking!" I ask him to tell me what he wants in a nicer voice, and he says in a genuinely polite voice, "Want Mama to be all done talking, please."
Sometimes I just give him a hug, but I've also suggested that he join the conversation. When I ask him what he'd like to talk about, he always answers the same way -- he wants to talk about the fair.
- - - - -
It's been three months since we went to the darn Santa Cruz County Fair, and it's the topic Isaac introduces whenever I suggest that he think or talk about something. Sure, he had a good time, but I think its real lasting power was because I told him he could think about it. Maybe that was the first time he realized he could voluntarily summon up a past experience.
The week after we went to the fair, Isaac and I were having lunch at home, and he finished eating first. He wanted to get down from his high chair, but I told him he had to stay put until I was done. He complained, so I suggested he think about something to keep himself busy -- I said, "Let's think about the fair!" and put my hand to my chin like I was pondering the subject.
He was immediately hooked. He even did the same thing with his hand. At first he needed me to prompt him with specifics about the fair -- who went with us, what did we eat, what animals did we see -- but by now he can tell his own stories. Does he really remember all the details, or is he just recounting what I've told him? I can't be sure.
I've tried to introduce similar themes (a trip to the zoo, for example) but so far the fair reigns supreme.
- ant home invasion -- scrub down kitchen at the sight of a single speck of food
- eighty holiday cards -- sign card, sign letter, fold, insert, stamp, address, repeat
- personal subsistence -- take a shower, eat, sleep
- spouse out of town -- provide all childcare during child's waking hours, and as soon as child is asleep, attend to #1-3
- lack of nap -- just forget about #1-3
I'm telling the truth -- Isaac didn't nap today -- but I'm also totally exaggerating. I can take a shower and eat while Isaac is awake. I can even clean the kitchen and address Christmas cards. I can do just about everything but blog, because whenever I try to type at length, Isaac throws objects at the keyboard and says, "Mama all done typing!" He'll tolerate a quick check of my email, but that's about it.
He sometimes objects to my reading the newspaper or talking on the phone (although it's pointless to say "Mama all done reading!" to me). I can understand his reasoning there -- I look like I should be available to him, since I'm sitting right there in front of him, but an inanimate object is stealing my focus. This doesn't happen all the time, thankfully. He's got a good attention span for a two-year-old, and he plays for a long time by himself, especially if I give him occasional input to keep his game going. (He doesn't object as strongly when I'm reading a book -- it's usually the newspaper he complains about.)
In all of these cases I say, "I am not done yet. But is there something you would like to say to me? I am listening." If he's been throwing objects or trying to pull the newspaper out of my hands, I add, "You don't need to get my attention that way -- you can tell me in words."
He's also begun complaining when I'm talking to another adult who is in the room with us. He usually gives no sign that he'd like some attention, and he'll appear to be playing happily by himself. Then suddenly he'll say loudly, "All done talking, all done talking!" I ask him to tell me what he wants in a nicer voice, and he says in a genuinely polite voice, "Want Mama to be all done talking, please."
Sometimes I just give him a hug, but I've also suggested that he join the conversation. When I ask him what he'd like to talk about, he always answers the same way -- he wants to talk about the fair.
- - - - -
It's been three months since we went to the darn Santa Cruz County Fair, and it's the topic Isaac introduces whenever I suggest that he think or talk about something. Sure, he had a good time, but I think its real lasting power was because I told him he could think about it. Maybe that was the first time he realized he could voluntarily summon up a past experience.
The week after we went to the fair, Isaac and I were having lunch at home, and he finished eating first. He wanted to get down from his high chair, but I told him he had to stay put until I was done. He complained, so I suggested he think about something to keep himself busy -- I said, "Let's think about the fair!" and put my hand to my chin like I was pondering the subject.
He was immediately hooked. He even did the same thing with his hand. At first he needed me to prompt him with specifics about the fair -- who went with us, what did we eat, what animals did we see -- but by now he can tell his own stories. Does he really remember all the details, or is he just recounting what I've told him? I can't be sure.
I've tried to introduce similar themes (a trip to the zoo, for example) but so far the fair reigns supreme.
Christmas cookies
Isaac got a package in the mail today from his paternal grandparents. Since we reluctantly decided not to fly to South Carolina at Christmas to visit, they sent Isaac's presents to us. (We're going to visit them in spring, instead, when conditions for traveling with a two-year-old are better.)
I briefly considered opening the cardboard box they had shipped the presents in, but instead I put the entire unopened package under the tree -- I figured that Isaac would simply open the presents if they were clad in mere wrapping paper, but a cardboard box sealed with shipping tape would be safe.
Isaac noticed the box right away. When he picked it up, I told him it was his Christmas presents from Grandma and Grandpa. He said, of course, "Open it!" I explained that we had to wait until Christmas. Five minutes later he brought the box into the kitchen, where I was battling the ants, and repeated, "Open it!"
So I did. And a good thing, too, because in addition to several wrapped packages for Isaac, there were homemade Christmas cookies! As it was snack time, we immediately ate some. They were terrific, as always -- sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkles -- and a wonderful reminder of the happy holidays we've spent with my in-laws in the past.
Isaac really liked them, too. "Yummy cookies. Thank you, Grandma, for the cookies," he said several times as he ate one. Later in the day he was still thinking about the cookies, because he said, "Grandma made the Christmas cookies. Grandpa helped."
"Yes, he might have helped her make the cookies," I said.
"Or maybe Grandpa golfed," Isaac said.
- - - - -
That little conversation reminded me of a similar exchange Isaac and I had way back in March, but with apple pie and his maternal grandparents.
- - - - -
When I searched my blog archives on the word cookie, I discovered that Isaac first spoke that word one year ago this month -- while we were eating Christmas cookies with his grandparents in South Carolina. So these are the same cookies that taught him to say "cookie"!
I briefly considered opening the cardboard box they had shipped the presents in, but instead I put the entire unopened package under the tree -- I figured that Isaac would simply open the presents if they were clad in mere wrapping paper, but a cardboard box sealed with shipping tape would be safe.
Isaac noticed the box right away. When he picked it up, I told him it was his Christmas presents from Grandma and Grandpa. He said, of course, "Open it!" I explained that we had to wait until Christmas. Five minutes later he brought the box into the kitchen, where I was battling the ants, and repeated, "Open it!"
So I did. And a good thing, too, because in addition to several wrapped packages for Isaac, there were homemade Christmas cookies! As it was snack time, we immediately ate some. They were terrific, as always -- sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkles -- and a wonderful reminder of the happy holidays we've spent with my in-laws in the past.
Isaac really liked them, too. "Yummy cookies. Thank you, Grandma, for the cookies," he said several times as he ate one. Later in the day he was still thinking about the cookies, because he said, "Grandma made the Christmas cookies. Grandpa helped."
"Yes, he might have helped her make the cookies," I said.
"Or maybe Grandpa golfed," Isaac said.
- - - - -
That little conversation reminded me of a similar exchange Isaac and I had way back in March, but with apple pie and his maternal grandparents.
- - - - -
When I searched my blog archives on the word cookie, I discovered that Isaac first spoke that word one year ago this month -- while we were eating Christmas cookies with his grandparents in South Carolina. So these are the same cookies that taught him to say "cookie"!
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
New pictures
I've added a few new pictures to Isaac's online photo album. (I divide the albums in six-month increments, and there are links to this album as well as the previous four albums in the sidebar, in the "More about us" section.)A friend recently threw a gingerbread house-decorating party for a bunch of two-year-olds. While some of the kids enjoyed sticking the candy into the icing their mothers applied, Isaac wasn't interested. His attention span for arts and crafts is limited. He did like the candy, of course.
Removable nose
Isaac was lying in the dark, trying to fall asleep, and I was sitting next to him.
"You can't take off your belly button," he said.
I said, "What?"
"It attached to your belly," he said.
I said, "Oh. Yeah, that's right."
"You can take off your nipple," he said.
I said, "No, nipples are attached too. They're part of the body."
"Daddy can take off his nipple," he said.
I said, "Nope. Nobody can."
"Daddy can take off his nose," he said.
I laughed and said, "Oh, is that right?"
A minute later later he said dreamily, "Mr. Potato Head."
I didn't say anything, but I could follow his train of thought -- Mr. Potato Head can remove his nose (although he doesn't have nipples or a belly button).
After another minute had passed, he said, presumably still thinking about Mr. Potato Head, "You can take off his hat. Just like Isaac can take off his hat."
All this was interesting, but it didn't really help him fall asleep. He's still awake now, nearly an hour after this conversation took place.
- - - - -
Edited to add:
Now that I think about it some more, Isaac's first statement was really something like, "Your belly button don't come out."
"You can't take off your belly button," he said.
I said, "What?"
"It attached to your belly," he said.
I said, "Oh. Yeah, that's right."
"You can take off your nipple," he said.
I said, "No, nipples are attached too. They're part of the body."
"Daddy can take off his nipple," he said.
I said, "Nope. Nobody can."
"Daddy can take off his nose," he said.
I laughed and said, "Oh, is that right?"
A minute later later he said dreamily, "Mr. Potato Head."
I didn't say anything, but I could follow his train of thought -- Mr. Potato Head can remove his nose (although he doesn't have nipples or a belly button).
After another minute had passed, he said, presumably still thinking about Mr. Potato Head, "You can take off his hat. Just like Isaac can take off his hat."
All this was interesting, but it didn't really help him fall asleep. He's still awake now, nearly an hour after this conversation took place.
- - - - -
Edited to add:
Now that I think about it some more, Isaac's first statement was really something like, "Your belly button don't come out."
What did you say?
My friend Emily watched Isaac for a few hours last week while I had a doctor's appointment. Her 2 1/2-year-old daughter is one of the most articulate children I have ever met, so I wondered if Emily would be able to understand what Isaac was saying. There are still a number of letters he can't pronounce, and some of the resulting words can only be understood through experience or context.
It turned out that Emily could understand him perfectly well while I was gone. But after I returned to her house, Isaac said something that neither of us could understand. He was asking for something he had played with earlier, and it sounded like haychoo. I kept asking Isaac to repeat himself, and he said the word exactly the same each time -- "Haychoo! Haychoo!" -- with increasing volume and frustration, as if I was the one with the problem.
Isaac can't pronounce F, S, R, V, or W sounds, and he commonly uses H as a substitution for F and S. For example, he pronounces the name Sophie, which has both an S and an F sound, as Hoe-hee. And when Isaac says fair, fire, or shower, they all sound like hair -- which he pronounces like hayoh. (Shower is a tricky one -- Isaac can't pronounce any of its three consonant sounds!)
But knowing this didn't help me figure out what a haychoo could be. I tried playing Twenty Questions with him -- what kind of noise does it make, what color is it -- but he only answered, "I dunno." Finally I looked in the toy box, and then I spotted it.
"Shaver!" I cried out.
Not only was it another word with three unpronounceable consonants, it wasn't even an actual shaver -- it was a crank-operated emergency radio / flashlight vaguely shaped like an electric razor.
But Isaac was very happy to see it again, and he carefully gave himself the closest shave a radio has ever given anyone.
- - - - -
Here are a few more pronunciations, only some of which follow the laws of substitution:
stove = towche (I didn't get this one until he said, "Where the tea kettle is")
razor = yayzoo
water = yatta
early = oily
snack = chank
ambulance = amblybince
spatula = patchislah
- - - - -
Although he can't pronounce these words himself, he knows how they are supposed to be pronounced. If I say them the wrong way by echoing his own pronunciation back at him, he laughs and "corrects" me -- incorrectly, of course.
It turned out that Emily could understand him perfectly well while I was gone. But after I returned to her house, Isaac said something that neither of us could understand. He was asking for something he had played with earlier, and it sounded like haychoo. I kept asking Isaac to repeat himself, and he said the word exactly the same each time -- "Haychoo! Haychoo!" -- with increasing volume and frustration, as if I was the one with the problem.
Isaac can't pronounce F, S, R, V, or W sounds, and he commonly uses H as a substitution for F and S. For example, he pronounces the name Sophie, which has both an S and an F sound, as Hoe-hee. And when Isaac says fair, fire, or shower, they all sound like hair -- which he pronounces like hayoh. (Shower is a tricky one -- Isaac can't pronounce any of its three consonant sounds!)
But knowing this didn't help me figure out what a haychoo could be. I tried playing Twenty Questions with him -- what kind of noise does it make, what color is it -- but he only answered, "I dunno." Finally I looked in the toy box, and then I spotted it.
"Shaver!" I cried out.
Not only was it another word with three unpronounceable consonants, it wasn't even an actual shaver -- it was a crank-operated emergency radio / flashlight vaguely shaped like an electric razor.
But Isaac was very happy to see it again, and he carefully gave himself the closest shave a radio has ever given anyone.
- - - - -
Here are a few more pronunciations, only some of which follow the laws of substitution:
stove = towche (I didn't get this one until he said, "Where the tea kettle is")
razor = yayzoo
water = yatta
early = oily
snack = chank
ambulance = amblybince
spatula = patchislah
- - - - -
Although he can't pronounce these words himself, he knows how they are supposed to be pronounced. If I say them the wrong way by echoing his own pronunciation back at him, he laughs and "corrects" me -- incorrectly, of course.
New shoes
I bought new shoes for Isaac today. They are a size nine, although his foot actually only measures a size eight. The shoes look huge on him -- but that's the way the salesclerk wanted it, so that's what we bought. The shoe industry claims that toddlers' feet grow one size every four months, but it doesn't seems to be true for Isaac. He was a seven back in July, the last time we had his feet measured, so it has taken him nearly six months to grow one size. And the result is that now he's finally grown into his summer sandals -- but it's pouring rain!Perhaps he'll grow into these sneakers by summer, just in time for us to discard them in favor of sandals.
I'll be sick of these shoes by then, though. I'm not crazy about them even now, although I'm the one who picked them out. They just don't look hip enough, which you may recall is one of my stylistic goals for Isaac's wardrobe. They look like shoes a practical middle-aged guy would wear to the mall so his feet won't ache, which is not what I had in mind when I once blogged that I wanted Isaac's clothes to "look like they could belong to someone much older."
We had a big shopping day today, quite different from my recent buy-nothing day. I blew off Isaac's nap on purpose -- for the first time ever! -- so we had time to cover a lot of ground. We went to four different stores before we returned home for lunch, and we went out to three more stores after lunch:
- kids' shoe store (bought shoes)
- kids' second-hand store (bought nothing)
- toy store (bought nothing)
- pet store (bought presents for our dog Walt)
- another kids' second-hand store (bought a lot of clothes)
- ice cream parlor (bought ice cream, duh)
- health food store (bought shampoo)
I saved the health food store, our most demanding destination, for last -- if Isaac seemed like he was getting cranky, I was planning to drop it. But we spent at least 15 minutes just standing there as I read the ingredients in various soap products, and Isaac seemed content and cheerful. He happily examined the bottles and tubes, and several times he declared, "Isaac likes to look at shampoo!" I had to keep reshelving all the items he kept handing me, but that was a small price to pay for getting new shampoo.
- - - - -
And since Isaac didn't nap this afternoon, how was his evening? Well, it was fabulous! He got a little wild right after dinner, but he never became unhappy, and then he fell asleep at 7:30 p.m. -- two hours earlier than usual. (We'll see if he wakes up at 5:30 a.m., though, because then I might not think it's so "fabulous.")
- - - - -
Edited to add:
He slept until 7:15 a.m.!
Units of measurement
About a month ago I mentioned that Isaac was playing with a ruler, but that instead of using "inches" as his unit of measurement, he was using "bigs."
I don't think he would do something as cute as that now, because he's getting better at figuring out the terms we use for the many different kinds of things we measure. He has made some mistakes along the way, of course. Recently he used the ruler to discover that something measured "six dollars," and he also told me that his friend Gemma's street address was "nine o'clock."
But when he pretends to tell time, he knows to look at the alarm clock and say, "It's eight o'clock." And he knows that distance is measured in "miles." But he still says something is, for instance, "five big inches" rather than "five inches big."
I don't think he would do something as cute as that now, because he's getting better at figuring out the terms we use for the many different kinds of things we measure. He has made some mistakes along the way, of course. Recently he used the ruler to discover that something measured "six dollars," and he also told me that his friend Gemma's street address was "nine o'clock."
But when he pretends to tell time, he knows to look at the alarm clock and say, "It's eight o'clock." And he knows that distance is measured in "miles." But he still says something is, for instance, "five big inches" rather than "five inches big."
Monday, June 23, 2014
Merry Christmas
It's Isaac's third Christmas!Okay, it's only Christmas Eve. Isaac has already had some practice opening Christmas presents, though. When his grandparents sent the Christmas cookies a few weeks ago, they also sent Isaac two presents to open right away -- ornaments shaped like a tractor and a tool box. Last week we had a $5 gift exchange in one of his playgroups. And yesterday we visited my paternal grandmother, who gave him his present to open.
Isaac is actually not a very good present opener. He picks at the wrapping paper when I show him how, but I think he grows discouraged by the tape. He'll actually walk away and abandon the entire package rather than tear into it. We've been staying with my parents for the last two days, and there are lots of presents under their tree, but Isaac hasn't tried to open any of them. In fact, he hasn't shown much interest in them at all. I bet that changes next year, when he'll have a better idea of the wonderful things that might be inside.
And despite my co-workers' joking comments about the impossibility of having a Christmas tree with a two-year old, Isaac hasn't been destructive in the slightest. He likes to look at the ornaments, and of course he touches them, but he has never wrecked one of them -- not last year at 15 months old, not this year at 27 months old. The only person who broke an ornament this year was Craig, who dropped the glass tree-topper while he was standing on a chair trying to get it atop our eight-foot tree. This made a big impression on Isaac, who will happily tell anyone, "Daddy broke an ornament!"
- - - - -
The photo is the one we used for this year's holiday card. As with last year's photo, this one was taken on Thanksgiving at my parents' house.
(Less) Merry Christmas
We just got back from my big extended family's Christmas dinner at my uncle's house. There were probably 35 people there, mostly relatives, very festive, all talking at once. There was also a lot of raucous carol-singing. In the car coming home, Craig asked Isaac if he had liked the party.
"I didn't," Isaac said.
"Oh? What didn't you like about it?"
"I didn't like the people."
"I didn't," Isaac said.
"Oh? What didn't you like about it?"
"I didn't like the people."
Grateful
The first present Isaac received on Christmas morning was a kid-sized pair of gardening gloves, which were sticking out of the top of his stocking. As soon as he got them on his hands, he tried to leave the room, figuring Christmas was done. So we could have stopped with the gloves.
Even if that is a slight exaggeration, Isaac would have been just as happy with far fewer presents. Happier, maybe, because then he would have had the chance to play with some of them, instead of having to stop playing to open more. But there is something worse than having to take a toy away from your child so he'll settle down and open more presents -- it's when your child mindlessly rips the paper off one present, immediately tosses it aside, and greedily looks for the next one. That didn't happen this year, but I saw it foreshadowed when a temporarily wild-eyed Isaac grabbed up one of my unopened presents instead of waiting politely to be handed one of his own. I took it away from him and the moment passed, but for a moment I felt a chill. I want him to be grateful, and to appreciate what he has.
Isaac is a grateful kid, actually. He says "thank you" frequently and without prompting, although not always in the circumstances you would expect. He still thanks my father about once a day for giving him my brother's old toy bulldozer -- whenever Isaac pretends to make a phone call or write a letter, he says, "Dear Opa, thank you for the push-bulldozer." He nearly always thanks the person who has prepared his meal (and he compliments the food, too). And tonight when I reminded Isaac that his Dad and Mama had given him his beloved toy vacuum for Christmas, he immediately went running to find Craig to thank him.
Most intriguingly, something about exchanging gifts this Christmas made Isaac realize that every single item in our home has a provenance -- either someone gave it to us, or we had to get it ourselves. Tonight he was asking me where we got his night-light, his CD player, and even the bookcases in his room! That kind of awareness seems like it would encourage gratefulness, because nothing can be taken for granted.
- - - - -
In addition to complimenting the cook, Isaac has just started giving personal compliments. A few days ago he turned to my dad and said, completely unexpectedly, "I like your blue and black jacket, Opa."
Dad, I hope you remembered to thank him!
Even if that is a slight exaggeration, Isaac would have been just as happy with far fewer presents. Happier, maybe, because then he would have had the chance to play with some of them, instead of having to stop playing to open more. But there is something worse than having to take a toy away from your child so he'll settle down and open more presents -- it's when your child mindlessly rips the paper off one present, immediately tosses it aside, and greedily looks for the next one. That didn't happen this year, but I saw it foreshadowed when a temporarily wild-eyed Isaac grabbed up one of my unopened presents instead of waiting politely to be handed one of his own. I took it away from him and the moment passed, but for a moment I felt a chill. I want him to be grateful, and to appreciate what he has.
Isaac is a grateful kid, actually. He says "thank you" frequently and without prompting, although not always in the circumstances you would expect. He still thanks my father about once a day for giving him my brother's old toy bulldozer -- whenever Isaac pretends to make a phone call or write a letter, he says, "Dear Opa, thank you for the push-bulldozer." He nearly always thanks the person who has prepared his meal (and he compliments the food, too). And tonight when I reminded Isaac that his Dad and Mama had given him his beloved toy vacuum for Christmas, he immediately went running to find Craig to thank him.
Most intriguingly, something about exchanging gifts this Christmas made Isaac realize that every single item in our home has a provenance -- either someone gave it to us, or we had to get it ourselves. Tonight he was asking me where we got his night-light, his CD player, and even the bookcases in his room! That kind of awareness seems like it would encourage gratefulness, because nothing can be taken for granted.
- - - - -
In addition to complimenting the cook, Isaac has just started giving personal compliments. A few days ago he turned to my dad and said, completely unexpectedly, "I like your blue and black jacket, Opa."
Dad, I hope you remembered to thank him!
New pictures
Looks like Isaac likes his new dump truck!Pictures from our Christmas visit to my parents' house have been added to the album.
Holiday soundbites
On Christmas Eve, gathered around the piano, unfavorably influenced by my straining my voice to hit the soprano part during "O Holy Night" (which Wikipedia says is "known for its difficulty"):
On Christmas morning, opening up a present, momentarily misled by the picture of waffles on the reused box (which in fact held a stuffed fire truck):
On Christmas afternoon, opening up a little front loader from his Great-Uncle Curtis, seemingly dismissive of the many other presents he had received earlier in the day (which included at least 25 other little vehicles and one very large dump truck):
- [loud high-pitched yowling] -- completely unlike his usual pleasant singing voice; it took me a while to realize that he was even singing
On Christmas morning, opening up a present, momentarily misled by the picture of waffles on the reused box (which in fact held a stuffed fire truck):
- "Waffles! Waffles just for Isaac!" -- said with genuine excitement, even though he eats the identical frozen waffles for breakfast about four times a week; happily for us as gift-givers he was even more excited when he discovered the fire truck inside
On Christmas afternoon, opening up a little front loader from his Great-Uncle Curtis, seemingly dismissive of the many other presents he had received earlier in the day (which included at least 25 other little vehicles and one very large dump truck):
- "This is what I really wanted! I just wanted this!" -- said with absolute sincerity; I think he meant to say something like "This is just what I wanted," but he put the "just" in the wrong place
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Happy New Year!
Mama: Isaac, do you have any New Year's resolutions? Is there any way you want to improve yourself this year, or is there anything you want to learn?
Isaac: Yeah. Learn to drive a car.
Isaac: Yeah. Learn to drive a car.
Favorite songs
Isaac loves to sing, and he loves to be sung to. He also likes to listen to recorded music. Probably we play Pete Seeger's children's folk songs for Isaac most often, but the two songs Isaac requests most frequently are intended for adults.
Here are videos for those two songs:
The Rolling Stones -- Walking the Dog (we listen to it on a 45 RPM single)
Harry Nilsson -- Coconut (we listen to it on an iTunes download)
Here are videos for those two songs:
The Rolling Stones -- Walking the Dog (we listen to it on a 45 RPM single)
Harry Nilsson -- Coconut (we listen to it on an iTunes download)
Precision of language
This morning Craig and I were still sleeping when Isaac woke up at 7:10. Through the baby monitor we heard him calling out, calm yet insistent: "I want Dad or Mama to come get you from your room and bring you into the big bed in Mama and Dad bedroom."
Well, it pays to be precise -- and thorough -- when specifying what you want. Although a simple "Mama!" would have accomplished the same thing.
He has picked up a few phrases of precision from his parents as well. Isaac sometimes says that an illustration in a book is "supposed to be a picture of a mouse," or whatever. I'm not sure he really understands what "supposed to be" means, because sometimes he seems to use it as just another way to say "is." But I'm sure he learned it from either Craig or me, as we are both vocal in our criticisms of picture book illustrations that don't live up to our standards. (Hey, if it doesn't look quite like a mouse, and he asks me what it is, I'm not going to say, "It's a mouse.")
He also says, when informed that his meal is ready, "Isaac doesn't seem to want any lunch." Perhaps he means that although he is hungry, by God you can't tell him when it's time to eat! Actually, I'm not sure he knows what "seems to" means either. But he's ready to talk now, so he'll just have to figure the language out as he goes along.
I hope he continues to take linguistic chances when he's older. If you're used to getting everything right, it's easy to get intimidated and stop using interesting new words -- you're afraid someone is going to notice you've gotten it wrong and correct you. I hope he makes the leap of faith necessary to try new intellectual challenges, even though he will most certainly get things wrong along the way.
Well, it pays to be precise -- and thorough -- when specifying what you want. Although a simple "Mama!" would have accomplished the same thing.
He has picked up a few phrases of precision from his parents as well. Isaac sometimes says that an illustration in a book is "supposed to be a picture of a mouse," or whatever. I'm not sure he really understands what "supposed to be" means, because sometimes he seems to use it as just another way to say "is." But I'm sure he learned it from either Craig or me, as we are both vocal in our criticisms of picture book illustrations that don't live up to our standards. (Hey, if it doesn't look quite like a mouse, and he asks me what it is, I'm not going to say, "It's a mouse.")
He also says, when informed that his meal is ready, "Isaac doesn't seem to want any lunch." Perhaps he means that although he is hungry, by God you can't tell him when it's time to eat! Actually, I'm not sure he knows what "seems to" means either. But he's ready to talk now, so he'll just have to figure the language out as he goes along.
I hope he continues to take linguistic chances when he's older. If you're used to getting everything right, it's easy to get intimidated and stop using interesting new words -- you're afraid someone is going to notice you've gotten it wrong and correct you. I hope he makes the leap of faith necessary to try new intellectual challenges, even though he will most certainly get things wrong along the way.
The evening's entertainment
For the past 15 minutes or so Craig and I have been listening to Isaac talk to himself through the baby monitor. We're trying to ease him back into the habit of falling asleep without anyone else in the room -- which he used to be able to do, for a period of about two weeks, about four months ago. If Isaac gets upset or calls for us, we go back into his room. But so far tonight he's been very cheerful. Not asleep, mind you, but cheerful.
He likes to quote from books, recite nursery rhymes, and sing songs as he falls asleep. We like to listen to him. Sometimes it can be a challenge to decipher what he's saying through the monitor, but this makes the evening's entertainment even more entertaining. It's like a revue of childhood favorites crossed with "Name that Tune."
We heard the nursery rhyme "Boys and Girls Come out to Play," and then the song "Waltzing Matilda." He sang a few verses of "Michael Finnegan," followed by the recitation of "Hot Cross Buns" and "Jack and Jill," with an immediate segue into a musical version of "Shoo Fly."
Then came a series of phrases we didn't recognize. It ended, "Bick, bick, bick, all around the town." Craig and I looked at each other in puzzlement. Was it a new verse from "The Wheels on the Bus"?
Then Isaac provided clarification. "Isaac making book up. Daddy doesn't know that one."
Well, that was true.
- - - - -
And eventually he fell asleep!
He likes to quote from books, recite nursery rhymes, and sing songs as he falls asleep. We like to listen to him. Sometimes it can be a challenge to decipher what he's saying through the monitor, but this makes the evening's entertainment even more entertaining. It's like a revue of childhood favorites crossed with "Name that Tune."
We heard the nursery rhyme "Boys and Girls Come out to Play," and then the song "Waltzing Matilda." He sang a few verses of "Michael Finnegan," followed by the recitation of "Hot Cross Buns" and "Jack and Jill," with an immediate segue into a musical version of "Shoo Fly."
Then came a series of phrases we didn't recognize. It ended, "Bick, bick, bick, all around the town." Craig and I looked at each other in puzzlement. Was it a new verse from "The Wheels on the Bus"?
Then Isaac provided clarification. "Isaac making book up. Daddy doesn't know that one."
Well, that was true.
- - - - -
And eventually he fell asleep!
Terrible Twos
Isaac is two and one-third years old, and while he's still an agreeable child overall, he's more "terrible" than ever before.
Happily, Isaac has yet to throw a classic tantrum -- the incoherent, furious, inconsolable type. His protests are more verbal, whiny, and easily defused. He usually doesn't have the courage of his convictions. It's more like he feels compelled to answer "no" to every option offered, even those he truly wants to answer with a "yes "(like asking him if he wants to play outside or have a snack). Usually after a bit of parenting jujitsu the problem is resolved with little or no struggle at all. Everyone saves face and gets what they really wanted in the first place.
But sometimes a tantrum erupts anyway. Earlier this week he had a minor fit because I had given him the wrong color spoon with his yogurt. (I usually never even give him a choice, because he simply doesn't care about stuff like this -- so I gave him the right spoon, and all was well.) And today he fell to the floor in a heap, absolutely limp and boneless, because I was trying to remove his diaper so he could sit on the toilet. (He eventually did sit on the toilet after I bribed him* -- he resists getting onto the toilet, but once he is there, he isn't upset in the slightest.)
And speaking of resistance quickly forgotten, I mentioned back in November that he had refused to get into the bathtub. Bath-time has gotten easier, although it continues to be a point of contention. He wails, he goes limp, and he absolutely refuses to sit down in the bathwater. But as soon as he is standing in the tub, he is relatively happy -- he doesn't even mind having his face and hair washed. And then he doesn't want to get out! We always try pointing this out to him, but logic doesn't work very well with a two-year-old.
But his most irritating manifestation of independence is walking in our flower beds. I know he knows that I hate it, which is why he does it so regularly -- and so gleefully. He usually starts doing it when I'm not paying enough attention to him, like if I've been pruning or playing with the dog, but sometimes he continues even after I've turned my sole focus to him. Sometimes he just stands in the dirt, and sometimes he tramples plants on purpose. It's easier (and, frankly, less damaging) for him to walk in the flower beds this time of year because a lot of plants are dormant or cut back, so there's room for him to stomp about. But I feel very strongly about protecting my garden -- although I certainly don't want to force any more showdowns.
What I've been doing is (1) saying that it makes me sad when he hurts the plants, (2) pointing out the parts of plants that could be injured (like the buds on the primroses, which he thinks are really cool), and (3) carrying him back inside if he continues his trampling. This is frustrating because it often takes an hour to convince him to go outside in the first place, and he needs to play outside to work off some energy. Maybe we should go to a park instead. But then I would never get my garden pruned! I need a chance to play outside, too.
- - - - -
*Yes, I agree that bribing is bad, especially when toilet training. What I tell myself is that I'm only bribing him to get over his reluctance to sit on the toilet. He gets his reward whether or not he "performs." For instance, he can have a piece of candy any time he wants -- all he has to do is sit on the toilet. But he hardly ever takes me up on it, and most of the time when he does sit on the toilet, he forgets to ask for the candy. But today's bribe was impromptu and very effective -- I told him that if he sat on the toilet, I would put his new pajama bottoms back on him instead of his pants. He immediately stopped wailing and sat on the toilet.
And then he didn't want to get down again -- just like with the bath.
- - - - -
Not only did he wear those pajamas all day today, but he wore them all day yesterday, too. I guess this is another way in which Isaac is becoming more independent -- he never expressed any opinions on clothing before, or wanted to pick out his own outfits. But these pajamas have tractors all over them, and he loves them. (Thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!)
Happily, Isaac has yet to throw a classic tantrum -- the incoherent, furious, inconsolable type. His protests are more verbal, whiny, and easily defused. He usually doesn't have the courage of his convictions. It's more like he feels compelled to answer "no" to every option offered, even those he truly wants to answer with a "yes "(like asking him if he wants to play outside or have a snack). Usually after a bit of parenting jujitsu the problem is resolved with little or no struggle at all. Everyone saves face and gets what they really wanted in the first place.
But sometimes a tantrum erupts anyway. Earlier this week he had a minor fit because I had given him the wrong color spoon with his yogurt. (I usually never even give him a choice, because he simply doesn't care about stuff like this -- so I gave him the right spoon, and all was well.) And today he fell to the floor in a heap, absolutely limp and boneless, because I was trying to remove his diaper so he could sit on the toilet. (He eventually did sit on the toilet after I bribed him* -- he resists getting onto the toilet, but once he is there, he isn't upset in the slightest.)
And speaking of resistance quickly forgotten, I mentioned back in November that he had refused to get into the bathtub. Bath-time has gotten easier, although it continues to be a point of contention. He wails, he goes limp, and he absolutely refuses to sit down in the bathwater. But as soon as he is standing in the tub, he is relatively happy -- he doesn't even mind having his face and hair washed. And then he doesn't want to get out! We always try pointing this out to him, but logic doesn't work very well with a two-year-old.
But his most irritating manifestation of independence is walking in our flower beds. I know he knows that I hate it, which is why he does it so regularly -- and so gleefully. He usually starts doing it when I'm not paying enough attention to him, like if I've been pruning or playing with the dog, but sometimes he continues even after I've turned my sole focus to him. Sometimes he just stands in the dirt, and sometimes he tramples plants on purpose. It's easier (and, frankly, less damaging) for him to walk in the flower beds this time of year because a lot of plants are dormant or cut back, so there's room for him to stomp about. But I feel very strongly about protecting my garden -- although I certainly don't want to force any more showdowns.
What I've been doing is (1) saying that it makes me sad when he hurts the plants, (2) pointing out the parts of plants that could be injured (like the buds on the primroses, which he thinks are really cool), and (3) carrying him back inside if he continues his trampling. This is frustrating because it often takes an hour to convince him to go outside in the first place, and he needs to play outside to work off some energy. Maybe we should go to a park instead. But then I would never get my garden pruned! I need a chance to play outside, too.
- - - - -
*Yes, I agree that bribing is bad, especially when toilet training. What I tell myself is that I'm only bribing him to get over his reluctance to sit on the toilet. He gets his reward whether or not he "performs." For instance, he can have a piece of candy any time he wants -- all he has to do is sit on the toilet. But he hardly ever takes me up on it, and most of the time when he does sit on the toilet, he forgets to ask for the candy. But today's bribe was impromptu and very effective -- I told him that if he sat on the toilet, I would put his new pajama bottoms back on him instead of his pants. He immediately stopped wailing and sat on the toilet.
And then he didn't want to get down again -- just like with the bath.
- - - - -
Not only did he wear those pajamas all day today, but he wore them all day yesterday, too. I guess this is another way in which Isaac is becoming more independent -- he never expressed any opinions on clothing before, or wanted to pick out his own outfits. But these pajamas have tractors all over them, and he loves them. (Thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!)
Games Isaac plays
In addition to all his regular favorites -- tools, vehicles, kitchen gear, and books -- Isaac has recently developed some new games:
"Smell some soaps"
About a month ago, Isaac and I went to a health food store and picked out scented soap products; two weeks later we returned with Craig and picked out some more. Since then, the process of examining soaps -- or, as Isaac calls it, "smell some soaps" -- has become a favorite game.
Isaac will approach me with a bottle or two of shampoo under his arm. Then he says, "May I please smell that soap?" This, you understand, is my line.
"May I please smell that soap?" I say obligingly. He unscrews the cap of the bottle and presents it to me. I take a whiff, and say, "Mmm, smells like apricot." He screws the cap back on again.
Then he says, "Will you open the cap for me?" This, you realize, is my line.
"Will you open the cap for me?" I say obediently. He does so, and again holds out the bottle. I lean over and take another whiff.
He usually plays this game with my apricot shampoo and conditioner, but sometimes he likes to go around to all the bathrooms until he has collected quite an assortment of bottles. Sometimes he'll use his play shopping cart to gather them, and then he lines them up on the coffee table. After just a few minutes of this game -- I've been required to smell apricot, grapefruit, tea tree oil, coconut, and lemon scents -- my nose rebels, and I try to pretend to smell.
"Build some funny vehicles"
For Christmas in 2006, Isaac's paternal grandparents gave him some Lego-style vehicles (they're technically called Mega-Bloks). The body of the vehicle snaps onto the chassis in two components for mix-and-match fun -- you have a choice of bulldozer cab, truck cab, backhoe back, dump truck back, or cement mixer back. There are also some plain blocks which fit onto the chassis.
For an entire year, Isaac used these toys only as whole vehicles. He didn't have the dexterity to remove the components himself, and he didn't appreciate the humor when an adult created, say, a cement truck with a bulldozer blade. But suddenly this December he discovered he could remove the component blocks himself.
He also discovered the toy's humorous possibilities, and very quickly he developed a game he calls "build some funny vehicles." Sometimes this means a two-cabbed vehicle, or one with no cab at all, or (his favorite) one with a bunch of extra blocks inserted between the chassis and the components to make the vehicle tall and off-center.
After he constructs a vehicle, he holds it up so I can see it, and he says, "What?!" He says it in exaggerated disbelief, with five drawn-out syllables, more like, "Wha-a-a-a-t?!" This, you gather, is my line.
"What?!" I say obediently. Sometimes he also prompts me to say, "That's the funniest truck I've ever seen!"
This activity can go on for 20 minutes, which makes it an excellent game for me to play while blogging or checking email. Often he builds the same vehicle over and over again, because there are a finite number of components. I say "What?!" every single time, though.
"Mama needs a hug"
Isaac puts on a sad face and says in a pitiful little voice, "Mama needs a hug." This, you comprehend, is my line.
"Mama needs a hug," I say obligingly. I also use a pitiful little voice and put on a sad face. Isaac gives me a big hug, and I cheer up immediately. (Wouldn't you?)
There are variations on this game, most notably "Mama needs a kiss." I tried to encourage Isaac's interest in playing "Mama needs a nap" one afternoon when I was lying down, but he kept hugging me and sleep was impossible.
- - - - -
All of these are tightly -- if minimally -- scripted games, where the words spoken seldom vary, and where the words are equal in importance to the props and activities. I can't help but wonder what this says about Isaac's personality.
"Smell some soaps"
About a month ago, Isaac and I went to a health food store and picked out scented soap products; two weeks later we returned with Craig and picked out some more. Since then, the process of examining soaps -- or, as Isaac calls it, "smell some soaps" -- has become a favorite game.
Isaac will approach me with a bottle or two of shampoo under his arm. Then he says, "May I please smell that soap?" This, you understand, is my line.
"May I please smell that soap?" I say obligingly. He unscrews the cap of the bottle and presents it to me. I take a whiff, and say, "Mmm, smells like apricot." He screws the cap back on again.
Then he says, "Will you open the cap for me?" This, you realize, is my line.
"Will you open the cap for me?" I say obediently. He does so, and again holds out the bottle. I lean over and take another whiff.
He usually plays this game with my apricot shampoo and conditioner, but sometimes he likes to go around to all the bathrooms until he has collected quite an assortment of bottles. Sometimes he'll use his play shopping cart to gather them, and then he lines them up on the coffee table. After just a few minutes of this game -- I've been required to smell apricot, grapefruit, tea tree oil, coconut, and lemon scents -- my nose rebels, and I try to pretend to smell.
"Build some funny vehicles"
For Christmas in 2006, Isaac's paternal grandparents gave him some Lego-style vehicles (they're technically called Mega-Bloks). The body of the vehicle snaps onto the chassis in two components for mix-and-match fun -- you have a choice of bulldozer cab, truck cab, backhoe back, dump truck back, or cement mixer back. There are also some plain blocks which fit onto the chassis.
For an entire year, Isaac used these toys only as whole vehicles. He didn't have the dexterity to remove the components himself, and he didn't appreciate the humor when an adult created, say, a cement truck with a bulldozer blade. But suddenly this December he discovered he could remove the component blocks himself.
He also discovered the toy's humorous possibilities, and very quickly he developed a game he calls "build some funny vehicles." Sometimes this means a two-cabbed vehicle, or one with no cab at all, or (his favorite) one with a bunch of extra blocks inserted between the chassis and the components to make the vehicle tall and off-center.
After he constructs a vehicle, he holds it up so I can see it, and he says, "What?!" He says it in exaggerated disbelief, with five drawn-out syllables, more like, "Wha-a-a-a-t?!" This, you gather, is my line.
"What?!" I say obediently. Sometimes he also prompts me to say, "That's the funniest truck I've ever seen!"
This activity can go on for 20 minutes, which makes it an excellent game for me to play while blogging or checking email. Often he builds the same vehicle over and over again, because there are a finite number of components. I say "What?!" every single time, though.
"Mama needs a hug"
Isaac puts on a sad face and says in a pitiful little voice, "Mama needs a hug." This, you comprehend, is my line.
"Mama needs a hug," I say obligingly. I also use a pitiful little voice and put on a sad face. Isaac gives me a big hug, and I cheer up immediately. (Wouldn't you?)
There are variations on this game, most notably "Mama needs a kiss." I tried to encourage Isaac's interest in playing "Mama needs a nap" one afternoon when I was lying down, but he kept hugging me and sleep was impossible.
- - - - -
All of these are tightly -- if minimally -- scripted games, where the words spoken seldom vary, and where the words are equal in importance to the props and activities. I can't help but wonder what this says about Isaac's personality.
Pronoun trouble
Isaac's first pronoun was "me," which debuted in February of 2007. He used the word to refer to just about anyone -- himself, yes, but lots of other people as well. By the way, I read in a child development book that kids aren't supposed to refer to themselves as "I" until they're almost three years old, which can't be true -- Isaac has been saying it since September, when he was just two years old. (Not that he uses it with complete accuracy, mind you.) He had a head start, though, since "Ike," which is how he used to refer to himself, sounds so much like "I."
But he still can't get a handle on "me" -- or, by extension, "you." One of his most common phrases is "Mama hug you," which of course means he wants me to hug him. Because of this lingering confusion, I try to use full names when speaking to him. If I ask him, "Who do you want to do it?" and he answers, "Me," I don't know who he's talking about. So I'll ask him, "Do you want Mama or Isaac to do it?"
And, ladies and gentlemen, that's why parents of young children refer to themselves in the third person!
He knows he hasn't figured it out, too. Often he tries to avoid potentially confusing pronouns, just like I do. If he really wants to do something himself, for example, he used to say, "All by self!" I guess using either "myself" or "yourself" would open the situation to interpretation.
However, this past week marks his first successful use of two pronouns in one sentence. He uttered word-perfect that famous childhood phrase: "I want to do it all by myself." Unfortunately for the historical record, I don't remember what "it" was! I think it had something to do with buttering a piece of bread.
- - - - -
Here are some grammar-related quotes of recent days:
Mama: Where are your toothbrushes?
Isaac: There they be. There them is.
- -
Mama: Are you ready to sit on the toilet?
Isaac: I already sat on the toilet. You don't need to do it again.
- -
Isaac: I want to sleep in Mama and Dad bedroom, in the big bed. It's your favorite place.
- - - - -
And for more on "pronoun trouble," see here and here.
But he still can't get a handle on "me" -- or, by extension, "you." One of his most common phrases is "Mama hug you," which of course means he wants me to hug him. Because of this lingering confusion, I try to use full names when speaking to him. If I ask him, "Who do you want to do it?" and he answers, "Me," I don't know who he's talking about. So I'll ask him, "Do you want Mama or Isaac to do it?"
And, ladies and gentlemen, that's why parents of young children refer to themselves in the third person!
He knows he hasn't figured it out, too. Often he tries to avoid potentially confusing pronouns, just like I do. If he really wants to do something himself, for example, he used to say, "All by self!" I guess using either "myself" or "yourself" would open the situation to interpretation.
However, this past week marks his first successful use of two pronouns in one sentence. He uttered word-perfect that famous childhood phrase: "I want to do it all by myself." Unfortunately for the historical record, I don't remember what "it" was! I think it had something to do with buttering a piece of bread.
- - - - -
Here are some grammar-related quotes of recent days:
Mama: Where are your toothbrushes?
Isaac: There they be. There them is.
- -
Mama: Are you ready to sit on the toilet?
Isaac: I already sat on the toilet. You don't need to do it again.
- -
Isaac: I want to sleep in Mama and Dad bedroom, in the big bed. It's your favorite place.
- - - - -
And for more on "pronoun trouble," see here and here.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)