Concrete Cowboy

I have many, many posts in my head - but we're on vacation and thusly so is the blog :) First to Kansas and now to Colorado, the little man is venturing afar with family.... and loving it! More in a week!

Hate

I admit, I have hang-ups about this word. I rarely use it. It carries this heavy socio-political-historical context for me that I just can't shake. So I've stricken it from my language and the wee man had thusly followed suit... so far. Then about two weeks ago he assimilated, heard it, tried it, liked it. I do love that using this word provides him with a powerful exclamation point. I get that. And I realize he lacks the contextual bullshit that bogs me down when I hear "hate." To him, its just, well, an intense feeling of "no!" towards something.... But I'm still struggling to see the beauty in this new vocab word, to hear his truth when he says it rather than my fear.

Because its hard to see my little cherub turn into a kid. Simple foot stamped "no's," even screamed loudly, coming from a very short creature with big blue eyes and sweet little curls tend to make me smile. Even if the "no!" is directed towards me. Wee kids have the cute factor going for them. Evolutionary brilliance, really. But he's gotten taller. And louder. And stronger. And this strength is so important to him. He's also started having expectations. Often quite complex, far reaching, expectations. Which is, of course, the beginning of the end of ease, since matching the next minute to our imagination can only lead to frequent disappointments....

Which leads to anger. Which, apparently, leads to the word hate. I've been racking my brain, trying to remember if the emotions actually amped up at the same time "hate" came on the scene, or if they were already gloriously vivid and only lacking in specific verbal definition.... But I'm not sure. I only know I much preferred "I don't like that barking right now!!!!" to "I hate dogs!"

And I think that's it in a nutshell. The specificity of it seems to have gone sloppy. The pure violence of the word (he really spats it out!) seems to upstage the nuances of his anger. Bigotry and history aside, his "hate" explosions don't tell me enough to help him in any specific way. But they do tell me, in no uncertain terms, he's not happy :) Which is, I suppose, a very good thing. Especially since he seems to be entering a stage where he has a harder time admitting his emotions. Sometimes even signing instead of saying something when he's rather riled. Which is taking some catching up on my part, since I so prefer knowing exactly what he's thinking...

Right up until yesterday, that is ;) When his newfound word erupted at me :( After consuming an entire package of Tootsie Rolls in 24 hours he was in full on funky form. I know a lot of artificial stuff effects his little body, but we haven't tried something like this in a while so.... Well, now we know. A good friend even noticed the difference today, saying P seemed drunk or high :) And that's what I've had to tell myself over and over again for the last two days -as he bounced off of the walls, screaming, hitting and obsessing about strange things - he is warring with his body. My child has not become possessed, my child has not had a sudden behavioral bout of insanity, my child will return....

And then we were out on the stoop. P was pissed he couldn't play at his Uncle's house and was buying time outdoors, hoping the winds would change in his favor. He was obsessing, a common occurrence for him when a food allergy is active. I navigated it as cautiously as I could, supporting, validating, but unable to change the world. Eventually, as an hour passed and the rain still came onto my slippered feet (yah, we weren't planning on hanging on the stoop) and the little man twirled around the banister, I announced my need to pee. He stalled. He stonewalled. He adamantly refused. This is beyond out of character these days. He's a gracious deal maker when its just the two of us. Admittedly more selfish and hard to reach when surrounded by friends or family, he typically finds win-win solutions when its just the Mama and the little man.

At any rate, my continued attempt to navigate the situation in a typical fashion proved ridiculous, as the wee one was a-typical for the day :) Our stand-off ended in me gently carrying a mortified and resistant little man up three flights of stairs as his heart broke, realizing he wasn't actually strong enough to overpower me. I hated it. Yup, the word fits there ;)

And thus, at the entrance to our flat (after relieving myself amidst the fury of little fists) a very angry and hurt child turned his baby blues to me and said "I hate you right now mama." D'oh. Lemme tell you, that one hurts. I instantly remembered him picking the pretzel over me. The adult in me understood that this was a healthy way for him to deal with his stolen autonomy, his disappointment at the way the afternoon played out. I silently thanked the Universe that my child trusts me enough to be able to express himself freely, to not hide his "hatred" or anger out of fear of my response, fear of my own anger or childish emotions. That he can expel it and get past it. But jeez that still smarted. And so my tear, the tell tale one I can't ever stop, rolled down my cheek and the child moved away from the wall he was huddled against, towards my lap. "Mama, what's this? Why is your face like that? Why do you have a tear?"

Ha, hates me my ass :) I told him he felt so sad that I felt some of the sadness. And the bridge was built. I asked him, again, as I had down on the stoop, what was going on, where his anger was coming from, could I help? And then he could tell me what he couldn't before, that he was mad he couldn't go to Seth's, that he loved Seth and wanted to see him more. That we always have to leave Seth. And his tears came, only briefly, before he could suck them back up with a frown, start to smack me again, remember that he didn't want to hurt me, cry for a brief wail and then.... rest in my arms. Poor, poor four year olds. The world is so big and mysterious and they have such little power over it (or their hyped up wee bodies!). So, I'll give him his new word, the power it gives him to say it, even if I hate hearing it ;)

Teardrop Park

Months ago, P and I saw a picture of an amazing slide. Yesterday, we finally rode it. After a gleeful morning of playdoh we went searching for what seemed a green needle in a high soaring haystack; a tiny park stuck amongst skyscrapers. I'd mapped it, but it was still elusive. Finally, someone pointed us towards what appeared to be a lush apartment courtyard. As we wandered into the space, P turned a corner of green, saw it, and squealed :)





Unbelievably, the day only improved from there. We climbed, snacked, slid and rock hunted. Then we wandered back down a path that led us to another park, one of P's favorites. I was shocked to see how closely we had missed the green gem and super slide countless times! Crossing into the riverside park, P took off at top speed in hopes of scoring a barrel of fun. And after some patient hop filled waiting, he did. And a new friend to boot.

P conquers the hop-a-long:



P and BB join Danny (yesterday's new buddy) under a bridge:



P, BB and Danny found a million different purposes for their barrel:



As a sidenote: Kids consistently accepted BB into the rough of things. With no issues, no commentary, no double takes, nothin'. That pink monster was as seamless a playmate as you could imagine. Seriously natural. He took a turn on the slide each time, and despite the long line and a couple of very vocal kids, not one had even a hint of an issue with the doll being included. Same for the barrel boy. Within minutes of playing together, P and Danny found their rhythm with BB and the three of them had a ball. I sat back in amazement each time. Then, when P joined a group on the merry go round, BB and he each took a seat. Separate seats. No one batted an eye.



Was I the only one that thought a pink and green monster made for an unlikely playground pal? Apparently :) I suppose every kid has had some special fluffy friend they adore, possibly drug along for days (or dreamed of dragging along) and could therefore relate. Its just fascinating to watch how readily kids align with P's sidekick. Grown-ups, when introduced to BB, inevitably, even the sweetest of them, have a detached sensibility about it all. They are talking to a stuffed animal. But kids, they shriek his name like he's another playmate, laugh and grab him just like they tackle P. BB's just included.

P finished out the day at yet another playground, just a hop, skip and a jump from all of the previous amenities. (If we didn't love our nabe so much, we would So be moving:) This one showcased a huge trampoline, sand galore, the merry go round and lovely water features. Despite the chilly day, the little man donned his suit and splashed about:



As we headed home that night, P wanted to wander back in reverse. There was a path he was curious about. And so we followed his curiosity right to the Coolest Rock Wall Ever. P was beside himself to return with his Uncles to climb here (I think it may be part of a sculpture and therefore not climbable, but I'll look into it). We rounded a bend only to find even more lovely rocks to clamber upon! (I had already cased my camera and was feeling too lazy to pull it back out. Now I'm regretting it, I'd love to post how beautiful these rocks were!) Alas, with Papa awaiting us, our exploration of this was briefer than we both preferred... but that just gives us something to really look forward to....

Urban Cowboy

We had such a phenomenal day today. Its too late for a full report (but rest assured the little man has big plans to take Uncles Seth and Ian to Teardrop Park!), but I just wanted to post a pic of the Wee Urban Cowboy. He absolutely adores his new hat. He's asked me a few times if he looks like Gramps now :)

Happy Father's Day

So Ethan informed me that last weekend was Father's Day. On the two days a year that he calls the shots (we don't do gifts, we "give" the day to the honoree), he's prone to waking up, dawdling around our flat for a few hours and then suddenly proclaiming, "Let's hop a train!" Ummm, my spontaneity gene apparently evolved instantaneously when eight pounds of scream entered our lives four years ago.... So I warned him Thursday to warn me by Saturday if he wanted to vamoose Sunday. Anywhere, anyway, just let me pack a bag for the kid. But after many weekends filled with work (and this weekend no different) E decided mellow would be his theme. And thus, he planned our day.

Brunch at an old favorite in the city.
The World Science Fair in Washington Square Park.
The movie "Up." (Using his throne to sanction something I'm usually not on board with. Sneaky. Very sneaky :)
Dinner out and a leisurely walk home.

Generous as always, he had considered everyone's needs. Nevertheless, as we headed into the city for brunch, P sighed a great sigh and muttered that he wished there was a Phoenix day :) I LOVED that comment.

Brunch was lovely, despite P's loooong 10 minutes spent in the loo at a rather busy brunch spot. The kid knows how to pick'em. If there are stalls upon stalls, he is the picture of quick bid-ness. A nice one holer and whalah! Bid-ness screeches to a (obviously fruit lacking) halt. E just chuckles as we re-emerge, "hours" later, his food eaten and the check waiting...

The Science Fair was fab too. P was super psyched to see the large robots. He even muscled the gumption to throw some balls back at them. The bright white ground covering just about blinded his baby blues though...



Then we saw an adorable Rutgers student lie on a bed of nails, with a bed of nails then placed on top of him too. Then children climbed aboard. P did not get up the gumption for this....

Having retained almost nothing from previous science classes, I felt like I learned a lot of new stuff from all of the presentations (retention this time: fairly foggy...) Apparently, the little man picked some stuff up too. The next day I overheard him muttering to himself "mumble mumble, rotation, mumble mumble, pressure, mumble mumble, gravity..."

On to the movie we marched. And it was, actually, pretty adorable. And it allayed my fears that Pixar movies always set Horrible examples for small children (just count how many times the characters in Toy Story call one another "stupid.") P cuddled on my lap and quietly whispered his questions while we noshed on berries and popcorn (sans food coloring!) from Whole Foods. E laughed so hard at one point he almost choked. Which, in turn, made me laugh pretty hard ;)

We dined outdoors at a fave Italian eatery, entertained by Sock Monkey. Come to find out, E and P share a lot of personality traits. I try not to chuckle too loudly when I hear their big Schultz toes drawing heavy lines in the sand. Sock Monkey has proven to be a fabulous defuser in most head-butting situations. And since P was never satisfied with E's BB voice, Papa now has a creature of his very own with which to woo the little man.

So, though P wished the day was actually his, and, though we got the dates wrong and the day wasn't actually even E's, it was lovely. And I'm thinking we'll make the same mistake next year too. Cuz, really, E certainly deserves a couple of Father's Days a year....

Block Party and the Big Boy

P's emotional growth is a time machine of late. He's big enough for Anything, he needs me to wash his hands. He's ready to run an errand himself, he's frantic to hold my hand. He'll put himself to bed, thank you very much, he demands I cuddle him and turn on the night light. He helps me carry boxes of groceries up the stairs ("Look how strong I am now, Mama") he wants me to carry him up the stairs. He talks big, then he tosses in some baby talk....

I've never noticed such a series of expansions and contractions in him before. I've read about it in two's, three's and I'm sure its popular in four's too, but this is the first time we've had such wildly divisive swings. Its fascinating to watch him navigate his need to be autonomous and his need to be cared for simultaneously.

And the block party this Saturday was the perfect stomping ground for a period of expansion. With so many friendly families out all day and the road closed to traffic, the little man had free roam of the block. E was at work most of the day, so if I needed to run to the loo or grab my potluck dish, P proudly pranced around outside by himself. Highlights from the day of fun:

The bouncy house. Quite literally, hours of fun. He'd run out every so often to check on me (often tossing a "I wuv you, Mama" my way :) and the bounce back in.



True Brooklyn style, the fire hydrant was opened by Brooklyn's finest for an afternoon of fun. P got drenched and was determined to "drip dry...." (No, it wasn't very warm, or sunny)



P, captivated, when the firemen returned to shut off the valve:



P fell, hard, for this sweet little dog that was too busy scrounging for scraps to even notice the four year old. His name was Bubbles, and P followed him for over thirty minutes...



P also adores the snow cone kid (he sells them every year at the block party) named Tom. Tom, an adorable 9 year old only child that lives two doors down, was sweet enough to let P run with the big guys. Up and down the block (and its a decent sized hill too!) the four year old raced on his scooter, keeping up with the big guys as best he could. Every once in a while he'd look around to make sure I was there, wave, smile and scoot on towards heaven:

Anthropodino

P's favorite art installation closes soon, so we hustled back for one more viewing. This time, with Aunt Alicia :) It was a full day for the little man, a short play date at our house, a trip to the Mulberry Street Library, a jaunt uptown for the exhibit, a family taco run in the evening and then a lengthy stalking session at Whole Foods in search of their mint balls...

P was So excited for Ali to see this show. Its just gorgeous and brilliant and sublimely evocative and he just knew she'd appreciate it. I Love hearing the little man ponder its meaning every time we go. It seems the abstract quality in this work really suits his temperament, his imagination soars and his questions are self answered. It reminds me of the Einstein quote: "Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere."

The armory was Packed this time, the city getting one last glimpse. And while P was happy to experience the space again, his primary focus was Aunt Alicia :) More and more I grow invisible when she's around. His comfort level with her is increasing to almost comical proportions. He leans on her, makes demands of her, holds hands with her, sing-songs her name every few minutes and just generally assumes he is her sun; that she lives to orbit him ;) Any attempt on my part to give her some space, allow her to snap a pic without a bump, gets a growl or other defensive acts of emotional pain. Its such a fine line to walk. I'm thrilled he has people in his life he loves so much, that love him; that he can spread comfortably beyond me. But his social boundaries are still so fuzzy, and I don't want his loved ones to get rug burn... Meanwhile, any allusion to said abrasion seems hurtful to the little man and he wants to believe I am wrong, that everyone loves everything he does. Its all out of love and excitement - how could it be wrong??? Childhood has so many rough awakenings it sometimes seems heartbreaking to me.

Anyway, I digress :) Nothing was heartbreaking on Friday. P was in heaven bouncing around, smelling spices, luxuriating on styrofoam bead beds, climbing on Alicia :)

P and A decide they'll live here forever:



A, working her magic behind the lens:



Playing a hidden hand game with P, that brought out his inner fluster (he'd seen a child chastised for touching the fabric during our last visit - my little legal stickler!)



Honestly, there's only so long one can sit still for two photo happy red-heads before funky faces erupt....



As I returned from the loo, bag packed and ready to go, I just had to pull out my camera again. P and Alicia lay on the floor, Ali, trying to get her shot, P leaning comfortably on her, shifting as she shifted, listening intently to whatever yarn she was weaving. It was such a sweet moment. Ahhh, that the child has family, here, in this sometimes solitary city, so far from our original "home." It warms my heart. That they are such phenomenal family is more than a transplant could ask for. Now, if we can only get Uncle Ian up here..........




The crowds nixed the seafoam balls, saving us about three hours ;) So we headed out, on schedule, to meet Ethan and Seth for tacos. The little man glowed as he entered the subway, the realization that so many loved ones would be dining together after such a wonderful afternoon - in his words, "how lovely!"

Rock Art

After posting about P's abstract approach to two dimensional art I started brainstorming on ways to bring 3-D closer to 2-D. Less line, less definition, but still a general attention to mass and shape. And then it hit me. Rocks!

So we color sorted his precious collection and went to town roughing in general mass. It was great, because with a tiny shift of a rock his intent could shift too, leaving disappointment and unmet expectations behind. His Egyptian Bunny, above, really nailed the complex space the young mind resides in; understanding the concept of "drawing" but still viewing the world in sculptural form. So, while I thought he'd nailed a full on side-shot of a bunny body, the little man shook his head and added another ear, as if viewing it from above :)

He's seen lots of shark drawings though, and when he brought his rocks to the breakfast table the next day his shark was infinitely recognizable. Even BB knew to be scared. Right up until the rock jaws bit the little monster's toes and then swallowed him whole....

Feeling Friendly

At four and a HALF, the little man seems to find sharing fun again. He love, love, loved it for the first few years of his life. As do most tiny tots. Its fun to show people what you have!! Then he made friends with a tyke that had an amazing grab and run scheme (like, run all the way across a field) and that pretty much ruined sharing for a while ;) He's returned to his position of consummate host this year. And, honestly, its occasionally a little over the top....

Like when we hung out with some fellow unshcoolers, before P's journey. The little man was hot to try out his remote control land/water vehicle in the park, but was worried our little friend (only a mere 2 and a HALF:) would have trouble with the toy. So he packed a smaller, hand driven version for L and away we went.

I was less worried about our wee friend, more about P's ability to share such a new toy. Silly Mama ;) Though he much preferred L's Mama to drive the machine, he sweetly tried to show L how to handle the controller. The long grass was more than the short wheels could handle, and the jumpy starts formed a theory in P's brain: the car liked P best :) There was some superstitious rite that went along with success too, but my memory fails me and the little man is asleep....




We eventually wandered down to the dog pond, since the boys were greatly interested to test exactly how waterproof the machine really was. P relinquished the controller to me and watched from his perch in the water as the car explored the shallows . It was only a short time until P was splashing around, retrieving the floating vehicle, testing his shoes waterproofness :) He landed a nasty rash from this little exploit. Yuck!



Soaked through and joined by rain, we all headed to chateau Schult. for a little playtime. P welcomed his friends with open arms, dragging out every piece of candy he could find - to shove in their faces. Host on speed, if you will. He was happy to have little L play with anything, anything he wanted... until that shadow crossed over the little man's face and his people cup was overflowing. I've seen it happen twice since then. Host with the most, use any toy you like, eat my food, can I get you some water - and then Bam. Don't let the door hit you on the way out :) Ah, well..... He is only four. And a Half :)

Shell central

Upon P's return home, his enormous bag of booty was deposited into the sink for a thorough cleansing and animal removal procedure. He wanted me to take a shot to document the enormity of it all :)

I've Got to get a picture of his play table tomorrow. It currently contains all of his nature finds, rocks, shells, flowers and whatnot. It is pretty surreal. A friend recently told me a story about an unschooling mum of three who's daughter was a natural collector. The mum mentioned that she would have worried she had "caused" the collecting behavior had she not seen it materialize in just the one, and so instinctively and passionately. Silly as it is, that was reassuring to hear, as my wee collector drags home yet another whatnot for his whatever collection (pick it, really, we've got rocks, shells, buttons, berries, sticks, hats, bottle caps, pennies, unclaimed met cards. And of course, toys :) And he's only 4. Oh, and a HALF.)

Eye Update

P typically takes his time pooping :) I often sit and chat, wander out to put something away, wander back to respond. He prefers to have company :) As I wandered out the other day, he bellowed after me "I can't see very good because of my eye surgery. After they poked my eye and rubbed it, I can't see very good any more. Does the dryer have two "F's" on it?"

After covering one eye at a time and studying the dryer (which sets just by the loo) we determined that his surgery eye is, indeed, not as capable :( He was 20/20 after surgery, so this means its gone downhill. He was, however, reassured that his other eye could clearly see the two "F's," and learned the word "off" to boot!

Bouncing back

Fire Island pics, courtesy E and his Iphone (P is the red dot in the landscape). For really great stories and shots, check out P's Amazing Aunt Alicia's blog: here and here !



I laughed my way through last weekend as my nearest and dearest (except my mom!) joined me for a weekend in the city. I know there are many that take a little vacay when their spawn is six months or so, but this was P's first foray away for an extended period. And even as he left our flat he reminded his Aunt B that he'd see her that very night. Cuz, tho he was piss-his-pants excited for his adventure with Papa and Sock Monkey, he was Not interested in spending the night away....

All I can share are E's brief reports. Had the child been with my mother (or, not to be sexist or anything, but any other woman I know) there would have been fabulous tales to regale ya'll with. As it is, I know the basics. The little man had fun :) He got wet. He collected sea shells and half a beach of sea rocks. He ate egg sandwiches and pasta. He was thrilled by his Aunt and Uncle, repeatedly. He put himself to bed the first night, telling E, "You go to sleep Papa, my body still has energy in it and I need to move around." He moved around, looked out the window, rinsed some shells and then climbed into his sleeping bag and went to sleep. He talked to Sock Monkey for four hours straight at one point. He greatly enjoyed an enormous two seater trike....

And that point in the weekend is where I came in. I called, as I had to :) It was Sunday and I hadn't spoken to the little man himself in 36 hours!!! E informed me they were riding some hunk of junk with three wheels, two seats and a bunch of happiness. I could hear P humming along in the background. And, quite honestly, though I was beyond content with my fem-tribe surrounding me, I burst into tears. P got on the phone and described to me the scene he could see. He ended with a "Mama, you HAVE to come here. Do you know why? Cuz its So Much Freakin Fun!" As I choked back a sob, I was astonished at the need to hold him. I was happy, he was happy, yet not being near him was physically uncomfortable.

He flew through the door the next day, smiley, sandy and sun kissed. (And bearing the largest bag of sea shells/rocks you have Ever Seen (massive kudos to E for schlepping the stuff all through a walk, ferry ride, bus ride, train to another train to a car service...)) P had handled the weekend with aplomb. Even shared a bed with his Father, forgoing his sleeping bag after the initial love affair ended. And I wondered. Would that be that? Could E and I alternate bedtime? Would I merely whisk out the door for my co-op shift, unfollowed by tiny toes? Wow....

Then, as we attempted to whisk out the door for dinner, E grabbed P's shoes to assist. "No, Papa, that's ok. Mama can do it. Mama," he called back into the house, "since you're here again, you get to put my shoes on me. Aren't you happy you're here to do my shoes again?"

And, as nice a reprieve as the weekend was, my lifelong friends and their lovely smiles, I could honestly reply, "Yes, P, I'm really happy to get to put your shoes on you again." And there it was. In that moment, his growth summed up. Happy when he moves forward, happy when he moves backward. Allowing the moment of helping him to wash his hands be a meditation in Now and Senses and Love rather than just a hurried splash. That touching his dirty little toes and holding his sweet little leg and silly-sandy shoe is a gift in time. His momentum towards independence is speeding up, and its fascinating to watch. And feeling the poignancy of four, the fleetingness of four, well, I think I'm done with weekends away for a while! I can hardly stand to miss a batted eyelash. Yesiree, I'm happy to get to do the shoes again :)

The non sleep-over getaway

I'm behind!! We've had great fun in the park with family and friends - and I want to stick some shots and stories on here.... but not till next week. The little man and I are spending our first weekend apart starting Friday and there have been preparations aplenty :) More on everything next week after the big event has passed...

Until then, pics of the little man's traveling companions. Papa, who has risen to the occasion with exceptionally well honed playing skills, despite his very few moments at home of late, and Sock Monkey, who has become E's alter ego as BB is mine. Armed with a new sleeping bag and plans for his amazing Aunt and Uncle to join him, P will venture off for three nights of fun on Fire Island. Though excited, P refuses to call it a "sleep-over" since he says he will not sleep without me. To say that I am nervous is a grand understatement :)

The Village

As we wandered to the armory with Yoav, his mama and his toddling little brother the other day, a woman glared after our diaper clad companion and then chastised me with a "Aren't you worried that baby's gonna be cold?"

I'm constantly surprised that in such an industrial world setting the village vibe is alive and well. It used to irk me to no end. How dare someone question my dedication - can't they see the sleep deprived bags under my eyes??? Then I got a good week's sleep and saw it in another light. A sweet, rosy one. Sure, under the watchful eye of the world is the underlying notion that the chastised parent obviously isn't doing their matronly duty, this stranger better knows the needs of this unknown tot. But mixed in with this negativity is a glowing concern for all those that are little. And I decided last year I'd only recognize that love. Skip the judgement, go for the gold.

So when I turned a smiling face towards my jury of one and said "That is so sweet! Thanks for worrying about him, its not as warm as last week is it?", she seemed entirely miffed. She took another stab at whatever she was attempting, but my unmoving appreciation had her walking off pretty quickly. And all P saw was another example of the world being a good place, strangers helping strangers..... ;)

And in a huge city like this, there is a definite vibe of working together. We work together to ignore one another when we need space but can't find it piled one on top of another. We grab the kid about ready to be swallowed up by the escalator (much to the kid's dismay:) We get in one another's faces about proper attire for toddlers. But mixed in with the constancy of being surrounded by other's is a feeling of vacancy. When I ran around my neighborhood as a kid, I knew to watch my stuff since all of the other neighborhood moms knew exactly where to find my mom. Despite this village-y vibe, P doesn't have the same midwestern nabe to roam. And as he gets older, having safe spaces to venture out independently is more important.

The Mulberry Street Library has become one of those safe spaces. P knows the librarians, they know him. The children's section is a level below the street, cozy and away from too many crazies :) The stairway rises up the middle of the space, so its not the clear shot I'd prefer, but that's the part that gives P a feeling of slowly budding independence. He likes to wander to the other side to pick a book, or go to the water fountain himself. So yesterday, when I headed to the bathroom (after an Awesome dreamcatcher craft with the Homeschool New York group) he chose to stay at the table and look at his new book. We've done this before. He's always smiling when I return. But this time, on my return to the table I bumped into Milo's mama and started book chatting etc. As I started to walk away I heard a strange noise. And it started getting closer, louder. And then there was P, wrapped up in Twinkle's arms, coming my way, doing his strangled cry.

Yes, he has a strangled cry, because he thinks he isn't supposed to cry. Another gift of my village. Too many well meaning "Oh, you're so tough, you don't need to cry! Oh look how Tough you are!"'s thrown his way. An unusually irksome response since P has never been a quick crier. Some kids, this demeaning chastisement bounces off of, other's swallow it up and buck up. But no one is supposed to buck up like that. Our repressed society is abysmally unhealthy. And if I run into a concrete pole and cry and someone comes by and tells me how tough I am I can guarantee my newfound rosy view on helpful villagers will be revised...

Add to his fear that crying isn't the right thing to do when he thinks he's lost his mother, modeling has done a freak on his head too. Not the catwalk kind. The natural, watching your parent's kind :) Once, after a hurt that tears can't hide from, P tried to turn to fury (his current approach once mourning and sadness were stolen from him, the feelings have to go somewhere (for every action there is an equal and opposite blah blah blah) and anger hasn't been publicly condemned yet, so... ). But the hurt was too big and eventually tears won. He was dismayed. Why, he said to me with red rimmed eyes, why don't you make sounds like I do when you cry?

Ahah! I have no shame for tears. I think they are fab. As a very wise child (yah, mine ;) once told me when he was 2, "Tears are how the hurt gets out of my body, Mama. It comes out my eyes." They are cleansing, literally. Scientists found that tears release stress chemicals stored in our bodies. That's why a good cry makes a person feel better. It actually helps. The two year old was right.

But me, I'm not much of a wailer. More the silent dripper. I don't need a big production, the things just leak out. I don't squnch 'em back in, but I don't push 'em out either :) And the kid has noticed the silent part apparently, and he, like most kids, have a very vocal approach to water works. And ever since he asked that question, he's tried to cry silently when he can't avoid sorrow. But just like the tears that turn to anger if stopped up, the cry of a child can't altogether dissipate either. And so we have the squeal. Its pathetically pinched. If he had the power to swallow it whole, it seems he would. Its quieter than the typical wee wail, and sadder, to me, too. Since I know its him, hurting, and trying to hide his hurt. Because he thinks he should. And this is when the roses fall from my eyes and I whisper "shitty, shitty world."

But it wasn't a shitty world yesterday. And it wasn't a vast city that met my scared child. It was another homeschooling mom's loving arms :) She told me later that when she saw P, he was just sitting at his little table by himself, his hands over his face. His tiny sound was so strange she thought he was laughing. Then when she spoke to him and his face raised to hers, well, he obviously wasn't laughing. He said he thought he'd lost his Mama. She offered to help him find me (20 paces away on the other side of that damn stairwell, where I could see anyone come and go, in full knowledge my kid was safe... and supposedly, happy...) and when she picked him up he squeaked out a "thank you." Awwwww.

This all came on the heels of a nightmare the very night before. In it, P lost me, I just walked down the sidewalk, leaving him behind, and he lost me. Ouch. Crying, he found a mama and asked her to take him to 603 Xth St, last brownstone on the left. (skipping the exact address for the world wide web, despite the fact that only three people read this, a girl's gotta take a little caution after deserting her child in a public library! But the kid nailed the address, and even the adorable brownstone bit that I always tell the taxi when we return from the airport:) ) He said he planned to ring the doorbell once the lady got him home, and that I would come down and find him then.

At least he has a plan :) So, last night, as he procrastinated sleep for eons and chatted away in the dark, I found out just how little the four year old understands things. He thought that when he hides from me on the sidewalk and I pretend to lose him.... that I've actually lost him. That there is a possibility that I could just forget to get him when I walk out of a store. That I might run for a subway and leave him behind on the platform. That I could just walk out of the library sans offspring.

Holy Shit!!! Where's the faith? The trust? And it reminded me of the story my girlfriend told me. She parked in the garage and got out with a bag of groceries. After sitting them inside she went back out to grab her 3 year old from his car seat. He heaved a great sigh when she opened the door and smiled, "Oh, Mama. I thought you'd forgot me." Yah, she's a dedicated mom too, no previous smack smoking disappearing acts from her either....

Anyway, back at the library. After soothing my sweet son and reading a bunch of books, we wandered outside to play until E finished work. The day was lovely and the scaffolding on the building beckoned to P. This library sits on a strangely vacant street. Popular with photo shoots. Busy neighborhood, unused one way alley. Just the occasional delivery van. So we had a snack on the wood beam curb and then P and BB climbed the pipes. As we enjoyed our play (me, standing right beside P, holding a pink monster, speaking in monster tongue, Not across the street doing a drug deal) a woman walked past sputtering to me, shaking her head. Her words were slightly lost as a big truck rumbled down a nearby street. "Oh," I said, attempting to validate what I assumed was her concern, "You're wondering if he might fall?" "No," she snapped at me, " aren't you worried, Worried, that he'll fall into the traffic?!"

"That's so sweet! Thanks for your concern...." The village is alive and well and the child is protected by many, even if the child doesn't believe it... yet :)

Still inspired

I had high hopes for posting tonight, but last night's unproductive bout of insomnia has me heading in early :) Bottom line, everyone should flock to this exhibit! Check it out:here. We walked around in awe and joy (often slapping our heads and saying "Aunt Alicia has Got to see this!") for SIX hours. And P and I are already ready to return :)


(The video starts dark but there is actually a video there - promise!)

Art that blisses you out

Things have been a bit crazy, and its late, so here's something short and sweet from yesterday's adventure. More details to come :) I'll sum it up with one word: "BLISS."

Good wenches and grog

(Above, BB is at sea, but in the dark, since P's bowler is covering the sun;)



Thanks to Yoav's Mama, we had a great project this weekend while E was working (yes, you read that right, working Again poor guy!) and I was sick (yes, again for that too. I've got a living, breathing, 19th century novella sorta constitution here:). We painted an ocean scape, cut out a boat to sail the seven seas and gave the scape some waves (and a sun to relieve my angst as mentioned in the previous post;) and Whalah! P was quite impressed. The simplicity ended quickly tho, for we needed a BB to sail those seas... and a shark to bite BB's toes... and we ripped our first scape... and a rock for BB to climb upon once his boat sank in the second set of seas... and, and, and... And, since Papa wasn't home to see all of the fun, we had to make a movie of it to boot!

Home movies are so much more moving with a little muzak. And so I share with you yet another mama-mess-up. As mentioned a while back, P wanted to purchase pirate songs, his tastes expanding and all. Well, ITunes plays tiny bits of a tune and from this soundbite you determine your purchase. The song featured on the below video seemed catchy and P voted yes, so we bought it.

Now, this story only makes sense if you know the following: I've barely listened to music with lyrics since I became pregnant (over FIVE years ago) when my morning sickness was replaced at month three with an inexcusable aversion to lyrics. Tug at my heartstrings is a ridiculous understatement, I tear up at P's kid's songs (the happy ones). No kidding. So, for the most part, the music the little man hears at home is electronica, trance, classical or foreign (if I can't understand the lyrics they can't make me cry!) (It hit me the other day that P's lack of typical kiddie jingles could be based in this funkiness (oooo - more bad mommy confessions!)) Now, knowing all of this, and how much E and I adore music, we want P to be surrounded by sounds, so I've tried to turn on a wider variety of tunes for the little man in the last year. And I have trained myself to ignore the lyrics. Its been working well. So well, in fact, that I didn't realize what this song said until I heard my four year old sing it to me. And, I don't think its a kid's song...

Beeswax is da bomb

So I've been wondering about art lately. P still prefers abstract. I'm still inspired by the theories in "Young at Art" (very unschooly, basically a buzz off approach. Give the kids the media and stand back, waaaaay back, so they can experiment and express without expectations, without copying, without losing their vision for yours.) And then I start wondering. Am I ruining him, will he miss out on the yellow suns, stripes emanating? The turkey plate? We did the recycled tissue flowers, maybe he won't be too scarred...

And then I regroup. Rethink and remember. He's happy. He's creating. He loves it. I really don't want him to draw my trees or my faces. I want to be patient and see what his trees and his faces look like. And then I get the gist of what will be hardest about unschooling. The not "measuring up." To the "norm." To other's expectations. By really giving P the space to take his time, to find his path, he might be surrounded by swirls and swooshes instead of sunsets. But really (here comes the rationalization part for when highfalutin' theories wobble), I have yet to go to a job interview that asked me "when did you begin drawing sunsets accurately? How was your turkey plate?" And I'm really hoping that if P is ever hit with that he'll reply "define accurately....and I'm vegetarian."

Skipping ahead. Long story short. Play doh isn't cutting the mustard for his sculpturing needs anymore. The gloriously soft stuff we mix up is faaaabulous for his tactile needs, but it isn't structurally sound. So we've added beeswax to our workshop. (Pre-beeswax we went the Sculptey route. Much to my dismay. I've worked with the stuff and the nasty residue it leaves. Watching P's precious little hands squish the stuff was neurotically painful for me. Fortunately, after playing with it he hated the feeling and left it behind. Unfortunately, this still left a gap in our art arsenal.)

So, beeswax. Its lovely. It smells divine. It can get practically translucent when warm and thin. And, bless the little man, he made 4 sculptures for me right out of the box :) The slightly waxy residue didn't bother him (or me, though my kitchen knife thought differently:) The next day he decided it was the perfect addition to his kitchen too and we sculpted carrots, eggplant, mushrooms, peas, red peppers etc etc and then he meticulously chopped them up for a "stew." It was, of course, delicious. And veered towards dabbling in realism.... :)

The collector

As if shells, rocks and whatnot weren't enough, the child has found something else he wants to collect : hats. He's so in love with his fedora and tam that he wants to expand his "collection." Yesterday, he set his sights on a bowler hat for a buck at a stoop sale. Of course, he calls it alternately a "bullet" or "boulder" hat :)

I read a mainstream article recently about toys (speaking of an ever growing collection!) It was a pretty scathing review on anything electric that has one solid purpose (think Tickle me Elmo), relying heavily on the "my kid loved the box it came in the most!" refrain. It was fairly preaching to the choir here :) but I was struck by this theme as I watched P play with his hat, er, ball, er magic trickster, er boat for BB, er frisbee, er.....

Community Garden: take two

Thursday we were off to the Community Garden again. Milo's mum had schlepped plants, sun tea and a bean project (not to mention her 4 year old) all the way there and I again stood in awe of her awesomeness. The plot was much less crowded and P happily planted a few flowers, once he could commit to getting his hands dirty, that is :) Watering was, again, his favorite part, dragging a big bucket from the rain water containers spread around the garden. The day was warm and everything was green and gorgeous!

A new little girl joined us this time and, following the good faith Abby had built up the day before, P befriended her. He'd just gotten a new shipment of candy and offered some sweets up to his new sweetheart. They sat together in the shade to discuss her options and I felt like the paparazzi around Brad Pitt. I soooo wanted a shot of their sweet little hatted heads bent in concentration, but I was just a bit too far away, the sun was the wrong angle, and I didn't want them to notice me either :) Ahhh, well....



After we dug in the dirt, another homeschooler celebrated his 5th birthday with some yummy cupcakes, thrilling P. Dirt digging, cupcakes (With Sundrops!) and a sweet little girl? Ahhh, the bliss of it all.



"Grabbers" are one of P's favorite things in the world. He'd love to have a set of those sold in zoos everywhere, with the snake/rhino head at one end and a clamp you squeeze at the other, making the snake/rhino bite. But he knows how shoddily they are made (he's seen them broken) and wants one that Really Works. We've bought him a few sets of kitchen tongs as semi-replacements, but I can't believe I hadn't thought of trash grabbers! They're heavy duty and just the thing! One was just lying around and P happily did some damage to a few weeds:



To top off a top-notch day, we wandered the garden collecting treasures. P is a collector at heart (his rock collection is almost comical. Ditto the sea shell one.) and we've started a new project that requires lots of natural treasures, so we scoured the space. Elsie Mae followed us, occasionally sharing a find with P (thereby solidifying his growing trust in friends, of at least the female variety ;) while her wee brother chugged along behind. Under the green canopy, surrounded by the lovely east village rooftops, it was a perfect way to pass the day.

Wednesday in the park

We spent the most lovely day in the park last week. And I forgot my camera!!! My butt should still be bruised for the number of times I kicked it.... Thanks to Amy I have a couple of pics to share:




Abby was there, thrilling P to no end. He played like I have never seen him before (with another 4 year old, that is:). Independently, happily, interactively, thoroughly. There were just No Issues. Which is huge for us.

At one point in time he saw Logan and his Mama across the baseball diamond and decided to go visit them. He didn't need me, didn't even look back. It was awesome. Eventually he wandered back over to invite me to join him, but he was really content playing with his friends. So huge.

Then, as we all meandered out of the park, P dropped BB. Abby jumped to retrieve the monster and handed him back to P. Aha! I could see it dawn on his face. A friend could be "good" to him too. They don't always take toys and run off, hit, yell and say things he doesn't like. They can also help! Holy moly. And he tested this theory allllll the way out of the park, dropping BB repeatedly (and oh so covertly, as in, oops! I did it again??) and grinning when Abby again helped him, over and over and over...

Ella Update

Ella is still coming to play most Tuesdays after school. The child is so unbelievably sweet. Unfortunately, an hour and a half is just about enough time for Mr. Slow-to-transition to finally get comfortable around her and start to play :) producing playdates occasionally more akin to an awkward blind date than a bouncy house of fun. But his internal clock wasn't the only palisade to playdate success. P was routinely shying away from Ella interaction on Tuesdays at the beginning of the month. Not wanting to put him on the spot and increase the issue, I tried mentioning it, very lightly. "Mama, (big sigh) I just like playing with you better. You're more funner."

And while its true that I'm a fair bit spazzy, and the child enjoys this, and Ella is fairly calm and quiet, she certainly Tries to follow P's joy. So the little man and I chatted about it and I gently encouraged him to take this very small time out of our week together to let someone else into his life. He basically told me he was feeling deserted when Ella arrives (I try to stay out of the way and just clean the kitchen and make dinner. Obvious desertion :) But I could see how he got that. And then it hit me! When Ella visits I don't play with her. I greet her, feed her a snack, ask her a few questions and turn to my work. P hangs out with us for the first bit and then often slides into his swing in a solitary fashion. Duh! I wasn't mentoring very good playmanship!

So the next time Ella joined us, I joined the two kids for some fun. She perked up a bit, P interacted more. It was a smashing success. Since my main goal is for P to better enjoy peer play (that means minus mama!) I've slowly pulled back my interaction. P has followed suit slightly, but not entirely. And sweet Ella, she follows P's lead perfectly, getting bouncy when he feels playful, retreating to the couch to pet the cat when he's aloof. Its a surprisingly slow process, something I hadn't expected, but there aren't really any downsides, so we're sticking with it.

And, though I could be reading into things here, his comfort level with new kids seems to be improving, which is the other outcome I'd been hoping for....

Block Builder

P went on a building spree the other day. The palace that evolved was stupendously fun. There was a Very High cell, decorative brickwork, a tree lined patio... Every block in our house came out to play... until the entire structure was demolished with BB inside :)

The next morning he woke up and created a "sculpture garden." So very "little boy in NYC" :) He loves exploring the city and happening upon a sculpture garden stuck between buildings, so he built one for BB:



P had been telling me quite a few tales about the palace and his plots. As always, I missed the solid string of stories flowing from him, but captured a slightly encouraged version below:

Icky Experiments

P has long wanted a real crab claw (the better to clip BB with, of course!). We've collected a number of these odious treasures only to have them over-stink the house or crumble. Determined to prevent the latest beauty from rotting, we're attempting various de-meating processes... Pictured here in a relaxing hydrogen peroxide and water bath.... where it has luxuriated for going on two weeks now.... ewwwwwwww.....

Stoop walker

P was soooo very inspired by La Famiglia Dimitri's tight rope walking that it has been all high wires around here:) BB has endlessly walked P's black rope, stretched between the ladder and the kitchen cabinets. P has even run into a few slack wire wannabes in the park who've given the little man a go. And, of course, there are stoop walls to proudly walk everywhere...

Dumbo: Twice a day keeps the Dr. away...

We had an errand to run en route to the library last week that took us to Dumbo. The day was Gorgeous. Seriously beee-u-tiful. Post errand, P developed a plan: the beach. But our books were due at the library, so the stop wasn't optional, and we'd already gotten a late start on our day... (um, we get a late start Every day :) So we compromised a plan and scooted away smiling.

We hit the rock beach between the bridges and it was heavenly. We boulder hopped, rock tossed and boat watched. Imaginary BB was atop most of the rocks that P tossed and P would yell out over the water "BB!!! Oh, BB! What did you think of that? Are you in the water? Are you clinging to that rock? Do you feel something brushing past your toes?" Giggle, giggle. Grab new rock. Toss.





When our designated time had come and gone we sped off to the library where P loaded up on more books. (We're burning through the books these days and just finished the sweetest stories by Brooklyn writer Emily Jenkins. ("Toys Go Out" and "Toy Dance Party.") These books are freakin' fantastic. The characters are so well developed that their voices seemed predetermined to me. The toys positively popped off of the pages, always sounding completely themselves. And the stories were so lovely and true - with just enough adventure and honest, rough emotions to keep a sensitive four year old identifying with and begging for more of, without ever upsetting him too much. Versus, say, James and the Giant Peach, where the parents get knocked off on the first page and the child is beaten by the third. Totally great book, just a bit Too Much emotion for P right now. Needless to say, we started that one and didn't get very far, despite P's Roald Dahl addiction ;))

Anyhoo... After the library and dinner with E, P believed another trip to Dumbo was necessary :) We played on the sandy beach this time, rock hopping again and watching the sun move over the city.



And I wondered, again, if P recognizes the beauty in the city or if its just a boring backdrop for him. Cuz looking though the bridges towards downtown at sundown is breathtakingly magical.



But that's probably not fair. As a Kansan who is still blown over by this city, despite how long I've lived here, I've often wondered if a long-lived local really sees the grace and grandeur of the skyline. (Like the poem featured on the subway last fall; the transplants are the heart of NYC because we appreciate it so very much :) And said poem (yay to Aunt Alicia!!! You can read it here) also mentioned how the native New Yorkers viewed their metropolis (less love.) When I read this, guilt slapped me. Are we ruining things for P? After all, he'll have few choices of where to live in terms of comparable food options outside the city :) Museum options, check. Social, theatrical, musical...check, check, check.... Here I go again, plant a heart shaped transplant sign on my head :)

..........................

True to form, I started this post when the week began (I know, I know, if I wasn't so verbose and didn't procrastinate uploading my pics there'd be fewer problems ;), so some things have changed already. Like my worries about P's appreciation (or lack thereof). Silly mama. I've decided, I don't think its due to where a kid grows up, but how the kid grows up. And P is pretty bathed in blessings talk around here :) And then I realized, osmosis has done its job again. When we were at our community garden yesterday, the child, rounding a rose strewn path, sighed and said, "Isn't it lovely, Mama?" I hear that A Lot from the little man. (Today it was the subway smell he cherished! He said he wanted to put it in a bottle and take it home :) So, then I came home and uploaded the pics from our Dumbo day and saw his face as he gazed across the darkening city... and I knew it. Yah, the kid treasures stuff :)

Sleep stomper

P and BB having cracker snacks in P's cardboard house.


P needs 1.5 to 2 hours more sleep than I do each night. This is just enough time to finish the kitchen, toss laundry in the dryer, pick up toys, have a conversation with E, catch up on email and then choose from one of four "me" options: blog, read, watch a video, do some art. The child accepts none of this and has formally forbidden me to leave the bedroom when he is sleeping....

I've tried rising in the morning (my preference) to greet the day before the little man rouses. I love it. The little man, he hates it. He isn't a very solid sleeper in his last few hours and typically rolls over to hold hands or share a pillow before he zonks for his last set of zzz's. When I'm absent for the hand hold the last zzz's get skipped and then he's not only angry but also tired. Not an ideal situation.

So I sneak out after he falls asleep at night. Also a sweet, if not sleepy, piece of peace. He rarely wakes in the first few hours... until recently. Three nights in a row his scared little voice screamed to me over the baby monitor. Hurrying in, I'd cuddle him and he'd quickly go back to sleep... after chastising me for my absence :) Then, the fourth night, I thought I heard some unhappy sounds, but its often hard to tell with our white noise machine blasting through our static-y monitor and the dryer banging away through the wall. After a pause in my art, I went back to work for a brief moment... until stomping suddenly sprang up behind me. Startled, I turned to see an angry four year old coming through the kitchen, arms pumping like a drill sergeant, bare feet stomping out his disapproval, face contorted into a half cry, half accusation. It was Precious. E had also paused his work to see what the commotion was and we both burst into laughter and hugs. The child, happy to be hugged and not ushered back to bed, rolled his eyes as far into his head as they would go (laughter and gushing both being things he's not very comfortable with) and was even unable to suppress a wry grin. It was one of those moments that I hope lives as a perfect mental video for the rest of my life - it so summed up P's little personality - and was pretty freakin' cute to boot ;)

Stranger Danger

We had a really fun Friday last week - but that's for another night with more spare time - just a quickie tonight!

You know those regrets you pile up as you go through the parenting years? Stranger danger is a biggie for me. Sure, our city is huge, the playgrounds absolutely swamped with people and odd fellows lurk just about everywhere. But that I would have traded my peace of mind for my child's..... We had a chat with P last summer about running off with strangers (he was in a most affable and simultaneously far-running stage at the time.) We tried to keep it simple and non scary, just the very basics. But he was Fascinated. And full of questions. Questions we, obviously, couldn't really answer. So, after enough verbal dodgeball, he turned it into a game and devised (of course) a plot: I would try to lure him to my car (the couch) and he would get away. Over and over he overcame his imaginary captors. And then the day turned to night and I hoped to be done with it.

But somehow the word "kidnapped" has cropped up lately. I've stretched my two brain cells thin thinking about where its reared its ugly head and I can't put my finger on it. I know he learned about "burglars" from a picture book last month, adding yet another thing to fear (I reassured him we own nothing worth burgling and he seemed satisfied ;) but the kidnapping bit alludes me. BB is occasionally "monster-nabbed......"

At any rate, he's been mystified about who to trust. He won't accept food from strangers (a waitress once offered him olives from her personal stash and he balked) and he looked at a woman working at the coop (who handed him a chocolate sample) like she had just sprouted green horns. I've tried reassuring him about the good that lives in the world, but the deed is done and the kid sees doom.

Then today, as he rode my scooter down hill at a nice clip, he shouted up to me, "Mama. Everyone's friends have friends. And their friends have other friends. And those friends have other friends. And if you think about it, the whole world is actually friends. Because everybody is somebody's friend." I love deep thoughts by four year olds :) He decided that maybe the world was really a nice place after all. And, according to P logic, kidnappers don't have Any friends, so we don't have to worry about them tricking us....

I hope this newfound optimism sticks, cuz he gives every stranger he meets a look that crosses cynicism with suspicion. And that sort of look looks a little funny on a four year old :) Really, I would so love for him to have a carefree smile. Like the one he had before, ya know, his mother accidentally scared the holy freak out of him last year.... :) (Ok, so he's never been the carefree smile type, ever, but his quiet, questioning glances carried just a little less glare before The Talk :)

B-b-b-benny and the beach

P has started trying to spell words. In the middle of a conversation he'll repeat a word, Elton John Jets style, cock his head to the side and smile, "Benny starts with "B!"" And so does, he figured, beach :)

So it was with great pleasure that we met our dear friends at Coney Island last week to enjoy some sandy fun in the sun. True to form, P ignored his buddy for the first thirty minutes while we scoured the sand for shells and shark's teeth. He carefully toted BB in a bag to protect the little monster from the elements, announcing each and every find he made to his enclosed friend.

Then P settled into the playdate and we settled in to burying the boys. Vividly recalling Grandpapa burying Uncle Jace, (see it here) and then decorating the immobilized boy's buried body, P quipped he didn't want neenees ;) Then, still remembering last summer, he added a sand penis, just as Grandpapa had. (Awwww, the things they learn and remember ;) But two sand legs weren't enough for P, the number quickly grew to something like forty, twenty two, three hundred pretty quickly. This meant, of course, he was no longer human, and I therefore gave him sea monster additions. Benny's buried toes evolved as well; his, into a race car. The boys were quite pleased with the results, P adding a roar to his picture to give it a little fear factor.





As the little man enjoyed his warm, sandy leggings, Benny and his mum sweetly buried BB's toes and gave him some monsterish fins as well. P was thrilled.



Breaking free from his encasement to tease BB, P found the day had turned chilly and requested a return to his sandy grave. Instead, we headed home to a warm bath and the surprise of a stow away crab we had forgotten to return to the beach. P spent the remainder of his evening counting and categorizing his new shells. He became a guard at the Natural History Museum, the one in charge of the shell collection, who would sell said shells on the black market to BB - if he was interested in such a purchase....

The singing explorer

I'll try to not wax poetic about living beside the park yet again, and suffice it to say that the urban and green combo blows my mind, uh, daily :) P and I went exploring last week, worshiping the weather that brought about all of the lushness living across the street. The little man hiked around for two hours and never asked to be carried. This is the dawning of a new age to be sure....

When he wasn't climbing fallen trees or flinging himself off of tall objects, he was swinging his sword singing pirate songs. Never much of a crooner at home, he's started singing short ditties when he marches about (his initial inspiration was the Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto birthday card Grams slipped him during her visit. Yah, that was pretty funny. P was positive the song said "Gomo." :) Then he moved onto John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (oh what I would give to have his rendition on video!) and Knick Knack Paddywack (ditto.) After these winners he asked one day to hear pirate songs. Our itunes being dreadfully short on the pirate front, we downloaded a few together. Yo ho yo ho turned out to be a real favorite (see him slinging his sword and singing here), one that he perfected on this fine day of hiking - through constant repetition - interrupting it only to bark commands at myself or BB :) Someday I'll have to video a whole day of P, just to sit in amazement at his constantly used vocal chords....

P charges at BB:



A brief moment of respite: