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.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
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!
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.
Watchful eye (and ear)
Although I usually sit with Isaac until he falls asleep, I've recently begun leaving the room while he's still awake. I wait until he's drowsy and content and doesn't seem to need a lot of input from me. Then I tell him I'm going to get a drink of water or see what Craig is doing.
Tonight as I left the room, I heard Isaac say to himself, "Now there's no one to keep an eye on you."
As if, kid. As if.
- - - - -
Tonight it didn't work. We could tell from listening to the baby monitor that Isaac stayed quiet after I left the room, so we figured he had fallen asleep, but five minutes later he suddenly began calling for me and Craig. He sounded upset.
When Craig went to him, Isaac said, "You listened through baby monitor! I said 'Daddy come' and Daddy came!"
And he was happily, securely asleep about six minutes later.
Tonight as I left the room, I heard Isaac say to himself, "Now there's no one to keep an eye on you."
As if, kid. As if.
- - - - -
Tonight it didn't work. We could tell from listening to the baby monitor that Isaac stayed quiet after I left the room, so we figured he had fallen asleep, but five minutes later he suddenly began calling for me and Craig. He sounded upset.
When Craig went to him, Isaac said, "You listened through baby monitor! I said 'Daddy come' and Daddy came!"
And he was happily, securely asleep about six minutes later.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Politics
The presidential candidate who wins the 2008 election will be the first president that Isaac will remember. After all, Isaac will be three years old by the time the election happens in November 2008, and he'll be seven by the time the next election happens in 2012. So we're electing a president who will serve from Isaac's early childhood right through second grade. Second grade! That's getting pretty old.
I know people who say becoming a parent changed the way they felt about the world, and thus about politics. They suddenly wanted to leave a better world for their offspring, so they started to care about the environment, or education, or world peace. (On the other hand, I suppose some people begin to care about lower taxes so they can leave more of their money to their offspring!)
I don't think Isaac's birth caused me to change my political outlook. I think I was always other-oriented and future-oriented in my politics -- I think government has a responsibility to make things better for successive generations -- so having a child fit into my existing worldview. At any rate, I was already pretty darn liberal, so it would be hard for me to become even more radical. I guess I could get more politically active, but activism of any sort is difficult with a toddler in tow. We give money to various causes, but that's about it.
Anyway, today I took an online quiz intended to match up your political beliefs with the positions of the candidates in the presidential primaries. Normally these kinds of quizzes aren't worth the paper they're printed on (ha, ha) but this one seemed pretty good. Here are my results:
95% Mike Gravel
95% Dennis Kucinich
83% John Edwards
80% Barack Obama
78% Chris Dodd
77% Joe Biden
74% Hillary Clinton
71% Bill Richardson
33% Rudy Giuliani
26% Ron Paul
24% John McCain
17% Mike Huckabee
17% Mitt Romney
16% Tom Tancredo
8% Fred Thompson
2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz
I had seriously never heard of Mike Gravel, but I voted for Kucinich in the last presidential primary, and I've been considering Edwards as my more-realistic vote, so the quiz was accurate for me. If you take the quiz yourself, won't you leave a comment and tell me who it suggested for you?
I know people who say becoming a parent changed the way they felt about the world, and thus about politics. They suddenly wanted to leave a better world for their offspring, so they started to care about the environment, or education, or world peace. (On the other hand, I suppose some people begin to care about lower taxes so they can leave more of their money to their offspring!)
I don't think Isaac's birth caused me to change my political outlook. I think I was always other-oriented and future-oriented in my politics -- I think government has a responsibility to make things better for successive generations -- so having a child fit into my existing worldview. At any rate, I was already pretty darn liberal, so it would be hard for me to become even more radical. I guess I could get more politically active, but activism of any sort is difficult with a toddler in tow. We give money to various causes, but that's about it.
Anyway, today I took an online quiz intended to match up your political beliefs with the positions of the candidates in the presidential primaries. Normally these kinds of quizzes aren't worth the paper they're printed on (ha, ha) but this one seemed pretty good. Here are my results:
95% Mike Gravel
95% Dennis Kucinich
83% John Edwards
80% Barack Obama
78% Chris Dodd
77% Joe Biden
74% Hillary Clinton
71% Bill Richardson
33% Rudy Giuliani
26% Ron Paul
24% John McCain
17% Mike Huckabee
17% Mitt Romney
16% Tom Tancredo
8% Fred Thompson
2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz
I had seriously never heard of Mike Gravel, but I voted for Kucinich in the last presidential primary, and I've been considering Edwards as my more-realistic vote, so the quiz was accurate for me. If you take the quiz yourself, won't you leave a comment and tell me who it suggested for you?
Image consultant
Isaac: Mama, I like your new haircut.
Mama: Thanks, Isaac!
Isaac: It looks pretty cool.
Mama: Thanks!
Isaac: How are your teeth doing? [peers in mouth] They look good.
Mama: Uh, thanks.
Isaac: They look mostly yellow.
Mama: Oh, yes?
Isaac: And a little bit white. And a little bit pink.
Mama: I think those are my gums.
Mama: Thanks, Isaac!
Isaac: It looks pretty cool.
Mama: Thanks!
Isaac: How are your teeth doing? [peers in mouth] They look good.
Mama: Uh, thanks.
Isaac: They look mostly yellow.
Mama: Oh, yes?
Isaac: And a little bit white. And a little bit pink.
Mama: I think those are my gums.
"Warm and dry"
It's winter, which means the weather has been either (1) cold or (2) raining. By "cold" I mean highs in the 40s; by "raining" I mean water falling continuously from the sky from dawn until dusk. When it's dry, it's too cold to play outside; when it's wet ... well, you get the idea. We've had a few opportunities to play outside, but not many.
Because we're Californians, we only have two season's worth of clothes -- warm and cool -- so Isaac and I are basically facing the rain in our autumn clothing. And because we're Californians, we always park in the driveway -- we don't even have a garage. When we have to go somewhere, we rush out to the car with our cotton sweatshirt hoods pulled over our heads, and we try not to step in the massive puddles in our sneakers.
Isaac's car seat is installed in the center of the back seat of our station wagon, so once he climbs up into it, I can kneel on the back seat and shut the door behind me while I buckle him in. But all too often he dawdles while climbing into the car, investigates the toys lying on the floor, or sits down in the back seat and declares he's riding there. Meanwhile, I am standing in the driveway getting rained on. About three weeks ago I got upset and hollered that I was getting wet and cold, and wouldn't he hurry up and get in his seat! In the end I had to pick him up, all 28-odd pounds of him, and bodily insert him into the car seat.
This made a big impression on him, although not a helpful one. Now when it's raining and I'm trying to buckle his seatbelt, he reaches up and grabs my head with both arms. He pulls my head down against his chest, and croons, "I'm keeping Mama warm and dry. Waaaarm and drrrry!"
Meanwhile, I can't see to fasten his seatbelt, and my lower back is exposed to the cold and wet. He's got me in a surprisingly strong headlock, and I can't even get free to close the door behind me.
"Yes, thank you," I say, sounding muffled, as my mouth is pressed against his chest. "I am warm and dry. Very nice. Now let me go so I can fasten your seatbelt, please."
I'm so ungrateful.
Because we're Californians, we only have two season's worth of clothes -- warm and cool -- so Isaac and I are basically facing the rain in our autumn clothing. And because we're Californians, we always park in the driveway -- we don't even have a garage. When we have to go somewhere, we rush out to the car with our cotton sweatshirt hoods pulled over our heads, and we try not to step in the massive puddles in our sneakers.
Isaac's car seat is installed in the center of the back seat of our station wagon, so once he climbs up into it, I can kneel on the back seat and shut the door behind me while I buckle him in. But all too often he dawdles while climbing into the car, investigates the toys lying on the floor, or sits down in the back seat and declares he's riding there. Meanwhile, I am standing in the driveway getting rained on. About three weeks ago I got upset and hollered that I was getting wet and cold, and wouldn't he hurry up and get in his seat! In the end I had to pick him up, all 28-odd pounds of him, and bodily insert him into the car seat.
This made a big impression on him, although not a helpful one. Now when it's raining and I'm trying to buckle his seatbelt, he reaches up and grabs my head with both arms. He pulls my head down against his chest, and croons, "I'm keeping Mama warm and dry. Waaaarm and drrrry!"
Meanwhile, I can't see to fasten his seatbelt, and my lower back is exposed to the cold and wet. He's got me in a surprisingly strong headlock, and I can't even get free to close the door behind me.
"Yes, thank you," I say, sounding muffled, as my mouth is pressed against his chest. "I am warm and dry. Very nice. Now let me go so I can fasten your seatbelt, please."
I'm so ungrateful.
Cough
Isaac has croup! I shouldn't be surprised -- two kids he knows have recently had croup, and another kid had a bronchial infection. I guess viruses can land in different areas and cause slightly different infections. Croup involves inflammation of the voice box and windpipe, and results in a cough and difficulty breathing.
He has had a slight cough for a few days now. On Friday night he woke up coughing, and he was so upset that he had a hard time calming down -- and of course the more he cried, the more he coughed. He coughed during the day yesterday, but it didn't seem to bother him. (The upside is that Craig got the chance to teach Isaac to cover his mouth when he coughs.)
But he woke up last night coughing harder and calling for mama, and when we brought him into our bed, we finally heard the distinctive croup cough.
We listened with great interest. "He sounds like a dog," I said. Craig said it sounded more like a seal.
"Or like a barking owl!" Isaac said, equally interested in this strange noise he had just made.
- - - - -
At Thanksgiving we stayed with my parents, who live about 100 miles south of here, and one night when Craig was out walking the dog he heard an owl barking. We listened to sound files online until he determined he had heard the territorial call of a female spotted owl. I guess Isaac remembers what it sounded like.
- - - - -
And how sick is Isaac? He doesn't seem too bad, so far. He has a low fever and is still coughing, but now it sounds wet and phlegmy rather than constricted. His voice sounds reedy, probably because of the narrower voicebox. Luckily he's not struggling to breathe, although when a coughing fit lasts for a while he definitely wheezes and gasps. He's not worried about it, though (as you might guess from his owl remark), and I guess kids with serious croup tend to panic because they aren't getting enough air.
This afternoon we let him nap a long time, twice as long as usual -- we finally woke him up at 5:00 p.m. after he had slept for two hours and 50 minutes, so he probably won't go to sleep tonight until 11:00 p.m. -- in the hope that it helps him heal.
But croup is supposed to get worse the second or third night, so it's really too soon to tell. I (naturally) expect the worst.
He has had a slight cough for a few days now. On Friday night he woke up coughing, and he was so upset that he had a hard time calming down -- and of course the more he cried, the more he coughed. He coughed during the day yesterday, but it didn't seem to bother him. (The upside is that Craig got the chance to teach Isaac to cover his mouth when he coughs.)
But he woke up last night coughing harder and calling for mama, and when we brought him into our bed, we finally heard the distinctive croup cough.
We listened with great interest. "He sounds like a dog," I said. Craig said it sounded more like a seal.
"Or like a barking owl!" Isaac said, equally interested in this strange noise he had just made.
- - - - -
At Thanksgiving we stayed with my parents, who live about 100 miles south of here, and one night when Craig was out walking the dog he heard an owl barking. We listened to sound files online until he determined he had heard the territorial call of a female spotted owl. I guess Isaac remembers what it sounded like.
- - - - -
And how sick is Isaac? He doesn't seem too bad, so far. He has a low fever and is still coughing, but now it sounds wet and phlegmy rather than constricted. His voice sounds reedy, probably because of the narrower voicebox. Luckily he's not struggling to breathe, although when a coughing fit lasts for a while he definitely wheezes and gasps. He's not worried about it, though (as you might guess from his owl remark), and I guess kids with serious croup tend to panic because they aren't getting enough air.
This afternoon we let him nap a long time, twice as long as usual -- we finally woke him up at 5:00 p.m. after he had slept for two hours and 50 minutes, so he probably won't go to sleep tonight until 11:00 p.m. -- in the hope that it helps him heal.
But croup is supposed to get worse the second or third night, so it's really too soon to tell. I (naturally) expect the worst.
Cough II
Isaac is still coughing and congested, and certainly not at his happiest, but we're through the worst of the croup. He was playful and mostly cheerful today, and he even had a little appetite.
Saturday and Sunday featured coughing and fairly high spirits, Monday added fever, nasal congestion, and faltering mood, and Tuesday ... well, basically all day yesterday I held Isaac in one arm and a tissue in the other.
I took him for a car ride yesterday afternoon in hopes that he would nap sitting up in his carseat, as his cough and congestion were preventing him from staying asleep when he was lying down. Driving around didn't really work, but when we were hanging out in the car in the driveway once we got back home, he fell asleep in my lap. So I sat in the front passenger seat and held him against my shoulder for 45 minutes as he napped. Thank goodness for my audiobook.
Yesterday he was about as sick as I've ever seen him. He didn't play at all, and he hardly talked besides hoarsely muttering, "Mama. Mama. Mama." For most of the day he could hardly stay awake; often when Craig or I picked him up, he would fall asleep on our shoulder. Even when he was awake, he was lethargic and his eyelids drooped, and he wasn't interested in anything. This sluggishness got worse as evening fell, and when we called our pediatrician's office after hours, they recommended we take him to pediatric urgent care.
Naturally as soon as I made the 8:15 p.m. appointment with them, he began to improve. He asked to eat some ice cream. He was interested in packing a bag with toys and books for the waiting room. And the doctor said he was fine -- no longer very croupy, just generic "viral syndrome," and nothing serious.
And after all that sleep yesterday? No nap today!
Saturday and Sunday featured coughing and fairly high spirits, Monday added fever, nasal congestion, and faltering mood, and Tuesday ... well, basically all day yesterday I held Isaac in one arm and a tissue in the other.
I took him for a car ride yesterday afternoon in hopes that he would nap sitting up in his carseat, as his cough and congestion were preventing him from staying asleep when he was lying down. Driving around didn't really work, but when we were hanging out in the car in the driveway once we got back home, he fell asleep in my lap. So I sat in the front passenger seat and held him against my shoulder for 45 minutes as he napped. Thank goodness for my audiobook.
Yesterday he was about as sick as I've ever seen him. He didn't play at all, and he hardly talked besides hoarsely muttering, "Mama. Mama. Mama." For most of the day he could hardly stay awake; often when Craig or I picked him up, he would fall asleep on our shoulder. Even when he was awake, he was lethargic and his eyelids drooped, and he wasn't interested in anything. This sluggishness got worse as evening fell, and when we called our pediatrician's office after hours, they recommended we take him to pediatric urgent care.
Naturally as soon as I made the 8:15 p.m. appointment with them, he began to improve. He asked to eat some ice cream. He was interested in packing a bag with toys and books for the waiting room. And the doctor said he was fine -- no longer very croupy, just generic "viral syndrome," and nothing serious.
And after all that sleep yesterday? No nap today!
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Trucks, trucks, trucks
So you know Isaac likes vehicles. To your left is the cover of a book we've checked out of the library on many occasions, and the title says it all -- trucks, trucks, trucks.The book is about a little boy who, while pretending his toy trucks are real, is depicted as actually driving them. The author has used the theme of imaginary play in other books as well, including "Fire Truck," which we've checked out of the library several times, and "Ballerina," which we had never checked out.
And why not? I asked myself that last weekend while I was at work at the library, and I didn't have a good answer. So I brought it home.
Isaac immediately wanted me to read it to him, and he listened to it intently, as he does with all new books. And he has asked to hear it again several times since then, which is also typical. But when I read it to him today, for some reason we ended up looking at the back inside flap of the book jacket. On the flap were several small pictures of the author's other books, including "Trucks, Trucks, Trucks" and "Fire Truck."
"Look at that!" Isaac said with astonishment. He pulled the book onto his lap to get a closer look. "There are little trucks there!" He studied the back flap for about five times as long as we had spent reading the book itself. Then I saw the real contrast between the polite interest he gave to the book about dance and the passionate devotion he felt for the book about vehicles -- even though it was only a picture of its cover.
- - - - -
I'm selling Izzy short here. He doesn't know anything about dance, after all, and he knows a lot about vehicles. The book about dance is also intended for kids who are slightly older than he is. And he truly loves all sorts of books, not just ones about vehicles. One of his current favorites is a very emotional book about a girl who temporarily loses a beloved balloon ("Emily's Balloon" by Komako Sakai). And of the ten books he has requested I read to him today, only three were about vehicles.
Milestones of the past
Here's a year's worth of milestones of the past (the last one from six months ago):
First word: 11 months old
First stood on own: 12 months old
Next 13 words: 13 months old
First really began walking: 14 months old
First animal noises: 15 months old
First referred to himself (as "baby"): 16 months old
First (carefully!) negotiated a step down: 17 months
Began regularly speaking in phrases: 18 months old
First fell asleep lying down in own bed: 19 months old
Began sleeping through the night (well, mostly): 20 months old
First said he loved his mama: 21 months old
First played with other kids (sort of): 22 months old
First word: 11 months old
First stood on own: 12 months old
Next 13 words: 13 months old
First really began walking: 14 months old
First animal noises: 15 months old
First referred to himself (as "baby"): 16 months old
First (carefully!) negotiated a step down: 17 months
Began regularly speaking in phrases: 18 months old
First fell asleep lying down in own bed: 19 months old
Began sleeping through the night (well, mostly): 20 months old
First said he loved his mama: 21 months old
First played with other kids (sort of): 22 months old
Cough III
Isaac is almost better. He's much better than he was, but he's not quite well enough to play with other kids. I hope he gets better soon, because I'm getting tired of not being able to hang out with my friends. Uh, I mean, I really want Isaac to be able to play with his friends! Yeah, that's right.
He still has a junky cough and sinus congestion. And he keeps cheerfully announcing, "I coughed up a mucus!" I told him he doesn't have to inform me every time, but I shouldn't complain. At least he's telling me what's going on.
Back in October when Isaac had several days of intermittent vomiting, we could have used that kind of honesty. He would be huddled in my lap, pale and sweating, and I would ask him, "Do you think you're going to throw up? Do you feel bad?"
He would always respond, "No. Feel good." This was so untrue that it got to be ridiculous. Several times he weakly moaned, "Feel good, feel good" over and over again, right up to the point where he leaned over and puked on my feet.
Craig and I assumed Isaac didn't understand the question, but I think it was my father who suggested that perhaps Isaac was using totemic language -- maybe if he insisted he felt good, it would come true.
I'm not usually in a hurry for Isaac to grow up, as I'm totally enjoying him being a toddler, but that's one skill I look forward to Isaac developing -- an awareness of when he's going to vomit.
He still has a junky cough and sinus congestion. And he keeps cheerfully announcing, "I coughed up a mucus!" I told him he doesn't have to inform me every time, but I shouldn't complain. At least he's telling me what's going on.
Back in October when Isaac had several days of intermittent vomiting, we could have used that kind of honesty. He would be huddled in my lap, pale and sweating, and I would ask him, "Do you think you're going to throw up? Do you feel bad?"
He would always respond, "No. Feel good." This was so untrue that it got to be ridiculous. Several times he weakly moaned, "Feel good, feel good" over and over again, right up to the point where he leaned over and puked on my feet.
Craig and I assumed Isaac didn't understand the question, but I think it was my father who suggested that perhaps Isaac was using totemic language -- maybe if he insisted he felt good, it would come true.
I'm not usually in a hurry for Isaac to grow up, as I'm totally enjoying him being a toddler, but that's one skill I look forward to Isaac developing -- an awareness of when he's going to vomit.
Suffrage
Have you ever tried to explain the concept of voting to a two-and-a-half-year-old? Since his birth, Isaac has accompanied me on every trip to the polls, but this is the first time he actually asked me what "vote" meant. I'm not sure I did a very good job explaining it.
At any rate, Isaac came with me when I went to vote today. As I was helping him out of his car seat, he said, "Only womens vote."
"No," I said. "All grown-ups get to vote."
"Even men," Isaac said.
At any rate, Isaac came with me when I went to vote today. As I was helping him out of his car seat, he said, "Only womens vote."
"No," I said. "All grown-ups get to vote."
"Even men," Isaac said.
Aquarium
We took Isaac to the Monterey Bay Aquarium yesterday, and on the way we drove along the coast in Pacific Grove. The sun was blazing, the ocean was blue, and the waves were crashing dramatically on the rocks. I remarked that maybe we should pull over for a moment and go down to the beach.
"I don't like to go down to the beach," Isaac said.
"Oh?" I said. "Why don't you like the beach?"
He paused for a moment. It is true that Isaac didn't like getting too close to the ocean when we last went in December, and I think it was because he didn't like the noise of the breaking waves. So I was expecting him to say it was too loud.
Instead he said, "There are too many clams."
- - - - -
He loved the aquarium, despite the clams there. We went a year ago, and although Isaac certainly found it interesting then, this time he actually understood what was going on. Last time he seemed most intrigued by a big yellow "Caution: Wet Floor" sign. Understandably, there's a big cognitive leap between 17 and 29 months.
He enjoyed the kids' playroom, where he made crayon rubbings of various sea creatures, and where he said he was working in an office; he even pretended to shred his drawings. But I think his favorite was something we called "the fish house," which was a little glassed-in alcove that let you sit beneath a big tank representing the habitat of the rocky shore. (I'll post a picture of us sitting in it soon.) Not only are the fish, starfish, and anemones all around, but you can look up and watch a wave break above you.
Isaac pointed enthusiastically at the exhibits he found appealing and said they were "really cool." And periodically he did a little dance and said, "I excited!"
- - - - -
Also different from last year: we enjoyed a leisurely lunch in the aquarium's restaurant. (My mother and sister came too.) The elegant table setting came complete with white tablecloth, ceramic plates, and binoculars -- we sat right against a window with a view of otters playing in the Monterey Bay. Isaac was a pleasant and happy dining companion, which also wouldn't have happened at 17 months.
"I don't like to go down to the beach," Isaac said.
"Oh?" I said. "Why don't you like the beach?"
He paused for a moment. It is true that Isaac didn't like getting too close to the ocean when we last went in December, and I think it was because he didn't like the noise of the breaking waves. So I was expecting him to say it was too loud.
Instead he said, "There are too many clams."
- - - - -
He loved the aquarium, despite the clams there. We went a year ago, and although Isaac certainly found it interesting then, this time he actually understood what was going on. Last time he seemed most intrigued by a big yellow "Caution: Wet Floor" sign. Understandably, there's a big cognitive leap between 17 and 29 months.
He enjoyed the kids' playroom, where he made crayon rubbings of various sea creatures, and where he said he was working in an office; he even pretended to shred his drawings. But I think his favorite was something we called "the fish house," which was a little glassed-in alcove that let you sit beneath a big tank representing the habitat of the rocky shore. (I'll post a picture of us sitting in it soon.) Not only are the fish, starfish, and anemones all around, but you can look up and watch a wave break above you.
Isaac pointed enthusiastically at the exhibits he found appealing and said they were "really cool." And periodically he did a little dance and said, "I excited!"
- - - - -
Also different from last year: we enjoyed a leisurely lunch in the aquarium's restaurant. (My mother and sister came too.) The elegant table setting came complete with white tablecloth, ceramic plates, and binoculars -- we sat right against a window with a view of otters playing in the Monterey Bay. Isaac was a pleasant and happy dining companion, which also wouldn't have happened at 17 months.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
A peace offering
Yeah, the blogging has been a little slow lately. The weather has gotten really nice, so we've spent the last few days playing outside (and gardening) instead of playing in the living room (and blogging).My gardening has been aided by the fact that Isaac has become amazingly independent in his play. As long as I'm listening and talking to him, and if I join in from time to time to keep the game going, he can entertain himself for hours.
As a peace offering for the lack of posting, here's a photo of us in the "fish house" at the aquarium. It's just an alcove in a much larger tank, but Isaac loved sitting in it.
Gardening
I mentioned that Isaac and I have been doing some gardening together recently. (He seems to have forgotten his need to torment me by standing in the flower beds.) Last year at this time he was busy learning new words associated with springtime and the great outdoors. Now he's busy learning plant identification.
Well, he's been learning this for a while. Even last spring he could tell the difference between roses, daffodils, daisies, orchids, and poppies. By summer he could identify a wide variety of plants, and he seemed to care about their well-being. Sometimes he would ask to go outside just to check out the annuals we'd planted. Then he'd say, "See how our zinnias doing. Look happy!" And in September I was unreasonably proud when, after I showed him one of our several flowering maples, he said, "Another on little hill." He led me over there and, without prompting, identified a completely different variety of the same genus.*
Now he has learned the names of several plants that are still dormant -- together, we cut back several of them, so he's memorized their locations. This should give him quite a surprise when the clematis, lilac, and peonies actually grow leaves and flowers!
It's not just me forcing the information on him -- I'm not a pushy flashcard-wielding mother, either in the garden or out. Sure, I talk about what I'm doing in the garden as he watches, but he voluntarily asks me for the names of plants.** This evening I was busy throwing the ball for the dog, and so I didn't notice Isaac pointing insistently at a forget-me-not growing at the edge of the lawn. Finally I heard him saying, "Mama! Mama, do you know what this flower is?"
And this morning as we returned from the park, he indicated a plant growing at the edge of our driveway. "Don't know what that tree is called," he said. When I told him it was a kind of bamboo, his face lit up. "Panda bears eat bamboo," he said. "They think it tastes yummy."
- - - - -
*Although just now when I showed him pictures of different flowering maples on the Internet, he said, "Those are zinnias!" So he's not a savant after all.
- - - - -
**It's certainly not limited to horticulture. He asks for the names of plants -- and the names of absolutely everything else. Lately when we go somewhere in the car, he asks me to tell him the name of the road we're driving on!
Well, he's been learning this for a while. Even last spring he could tell the difference between roses, daffodils, daisies, orchids, and poppies. By summer he could identify a wide variety of plants, and he seemed to care about their well-being. Sometimes he would ask to go outside just to check out the annuals we'd planted. Then he'd say, "See how our zinnias doing. Look happy!" And in September I was unreasonably proud when, after I showed him one of our several flowering maples, he said, "Another on little hill." He led me over there and, without prompting, identified a completely different variety of the same genus.*
Now he has learned the names of several plants that are still dormant -- together, we cut back several of them, so he's memorized their locations. This should give him quite a surprise when the clematis, lilac, and peonies actually grow leaves and flowers!
It's not just me forcing the information on him -- I'm not a pushy flashcard-wielding mother, either in the garden or out. Sure, I talk about what I'm doing in the garden as he watches, but he voluntarily asks me for the names of plants.** This evening I was busy throwing the ball for the dog, and so I didn't notice Isaac pointing insistently at a forget-me-not growing at the edge of the lawn. Finally I heard him saying, "Mama! Mama, do you know what this flower is?"
And this morning as we returned from the park, he indicated a plant growing at the edge of our driveway. "Don't know what that tree is called," he said. When I told him it was a kind of bamboo, his face lit up. "Panda bears eat bamboo," he said. "They think it tastes yummy."
- - - - -
*Although just now when I showed him pictures of different flowering maples on the Internet, he said, "Those are zinnias!" So he's not a savant after all.
- - - - -
**It's certainly not limited to horticulture. He asks for the names of plants -- and the names of absolutely everything else. Lately when we go somewhere in the car, he asks me to tell him the name of the road we're driving on!
Sticking around
I have been sitting on the floor next to Isaac's bed for 30 minutes already, and he is not showing any signs of falling asleep. The floor is hard, the room is dark, and I am getting uncomfortable, frustrated, and tired. I am considering getting up and leaving him to fuss for a while. It is 9:45 p.m.
Isaac is still lying down, at least, but he is also singing loudly and inventively to himself -- or to me, I guess, because when I tried to sing to him, he said "No! Isaac sing to Mama."
He runs through a few fragmented verses of his bedtime favorites -- a song from Gilbert and Sullivan's "H.M.S. Pinafore," Lulu's Back in Town, and Skip to My Lou. It's especially interesting to hear him deal with the Gilbert and Sullivan song, "When I Was a Lad," because he doesn't understand many of the words or any of the content, so he sings it phonetically but also compresses the verses so the song doesn't make sense.
"Skip to My Lou" is not as intellectually challenging. For a while he sings a pretty accurate rendition of the version from a book we've just checked out of the library, then he creates his own variant of the book's plot, and then he does something he has never done before: he sings my version of the song.
For at least a year and a half I've been singing an Isaac-centric version of "Skip to My Lou" right before we sit down to nurse. One of the verses goes like this:
Tonight Isaac sings it like this:
Okay, I guess I'll stick around until he falls asleep, after all.
.
Isaac is still lying down, at least, but he is also singing loudly and inventively to himself -- or to me, I guess, because when I tried to sing to him, he said "No! Isaac sing to Mama."
He runs through a few fragmented verses of his bedtime favorites -- a song from Gilbert and Sullivan's "H.M.S. Pinafore," Lulu's Back in Town, and Skip to My Lou. It's especially interesting to hear him deal with the Gilbert and Sullivan song, "When I Was a Lad," because he doesn't understand many of the words or any of the content, so he sings it phonetically but also compresses the verses so the song doesn't make sense.
"Skip to My Lou" is not as intellectually challenging. For a while he sings a pretty accurate rendition of the version from a book we've just checked out of the library, then he creates his own variant of the book's plot, and then he does something he has never done before: he sings my version of the song.
For at least a year and a half I've been singing an Isaac-centric version of "Skip to My Lou" right before we sit down to nurse. One of the verses goes like this:
Mama loves Isaac / Dad does too
Mama loves Isaac / Dad does too
Mama loves Isaac / Dad does too
Skip to my Lou, my darling
Tonight Isaac sings it like this:
Mama loves me / So does Dad
Mama and Dad take care of you
Skip to my Lou my darling
Okay, I guess I'll stick around until he falls asleep, after all.
.
Noise annoys
"No more noise. Turn off."
This is what Isaac said eight months ago while he was playing with a friend's toy dump truck. It was a rather noisy truck -- it was operated by remote control, and different buttons made engine noises, honked the horn, made an air brake sound, and, most notably, played a raucous heavy metal song.
When I asked Isaac if he liked playing with the truck, he said, "Big yellow dump truck play music. Big dump truck too loud. Little dump truck more better."
Ironically, he received a similar dump truck for Christmas, although he seems to have outgrown his distaste for it. He likes to play with it now, at any rate, although he doesn't spend a lot of time pushing the buttons on the remote control.
He has never been a big fan of loud noises (although he can readily overcome this hesitation under certain circumstances, as when his Opa offers to take him for a ride on the wheel loader). He has been nervous about the vacuum cleaner for nearly his entire life, but in the last two or three weeks he has become positively terrified of select household appliances. I took out the food processor a few weeks ago, and at the very sight of it -- before I even set it down on the counter! -- he began crying. I had to put him in his room before using it, and even then he cried so hard that his entire face became covered in red blotches -- including his nose, which I had never seen happen before.
Every single day he says, "I don't like the food processor. Or the coffee grinder. Or the garbage disposal. I don't like loud things." Unfortunately he's been adding to this list. Today he said, "Or the coffee maker. Or the microwave."
"Really?" I said. "The microwave doesn't make that much noise."
"It's sort of loud," he said.
- - - - -
He's working through it, though. As he runs his toy vacuum, he says things like, "Sorry, Mama. I have to vacuum. It'll be okay." So then I pretend I'm afraid of the vacuum, which he seems to enjoy. He and Craig have a similar game where Isaac uses a pretend coffee grinder and Craig pretends to be scared of it. And today Isaac told me that one of his alter egos, Loader Driver, actually likes the coffee grinder.
- - - - -
I don't think I've mentioned Loader Driver before. He's Isaac's grown-up persona, the one who likes spicy foods and shaves, as opposed to Loopy, who is often "just a little puppy" and needs to be babied.
This is what Isaac said eight months ago while he was playing with a friend's toy dump truck. It was a rather noisy truck -- it was operated by remote control, and different buttons made engine noises, honked the horn, made an air brake sound, and, most notably, played a raucous heavy metal song.
When I asked Isaac if he liked playing with the truck, he said, "Big yellow dump truck play music. Big dump truck too loud. Little dump truck more better."
Ironically, he received a similar dump truck for Christmas, although he seems to have outgrown his distaste for it. He likes to play with it now, at any rate, although he doesn't spend a lot of time pushing the buttons on the remote control.
He has never been a big fan of loud noises (although he can readily overcome this hesitation under certain circumstances, as when his Opa offers to take him for a ride on the wheel loader). He has been nervous about the vacuum cleaner for nearly his entire life, but in the last two or three weeks he has become positively terrified of select household appliances. I took out the food processor a few weeks ago, and at the very sight of it -- before I even set it down on the counter! -- he began crying. I had to put him in his room before using it, and even then he cried so hard that his entire face became covered in red blotches -- including his nose, which I had never seen happen before.
Every single day he says, "I don't like the food processor. Or the coffee grinder. Or the garbage disposal. I don't like loud things." Unfortunately he's been adding to this list. Today he said, "Or the coffee maker. Or the microwave."
"Really?" I said. "The microwave doesn't make that much noise."
"It's sort of loud," he said.
- - - - -
He's working through it, though. As he runs his toy vacuum, he says things like, "Sorry, Mama. I have to vacuum. It'll be okay." So then I pretend I'm afraid of the vacuum, which he seems to enjoy. He and Craig have a similar game where Isaac uses a pretend coffee grinder and Craig pretends to be scared of it. And today Isaac told me that one of his alter egos, Loader Driver, actually likes the coffee grinder.
- - - - -
I don't think I've mentioned Loader Driver before. He's Isaac's grown-up persona, the one who likes spicy foods and shaves, as opposed to Loopy, who is often "just a little puppy" and needs to be babied.
New pictures
Here's the Loader Driver himself, pretending to drive Opa's loader. (That's Craig's hat he's wearing.)Did you know I haven't uploaded pictures since Christmas? That's nearly two months! That explains why I had several hundred photos to sort through today, and why I ended up adding 29 of them to the album. I need to get back in the habit of uploading fewer pictures twice a month, because this was quite a lengthy process.
Friday, December 5, 2014
Skyward
We began our day by glimpsing a rainbow outside Isaac's bedroom window, and we ended it by viewing the total eclipse of the moon. Life is good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)