Sea-horses and death.

In such a big world, with so many angles to every experience, its always fascinating to see what angle captures Phoenix's fancy. Or what tiny phrase can, literally, change him. A quiet conversation about manners, seemingly out of his earshot, enters "please" into his vocabulary. He was told he's a" tough boy" after he fell once and he will only cry now if he has just bounced his head off of a cement column (in the subway, like a ball, from running at top speed while looking backwards. Ouch.) Sunday I casually teased a lollygagging E, calling him an old man. P was instantly serious, asking "He gonna die now?" (I thought I had explained it adequately when 2 days later he cupped E's face in his hands and asked, "You really old?" )

So I took him to the aquarium Monday with the intent of celebrating life, the birth of the baby walrus. He definitely thought it was cool, but he also walked away with more death concerns. Part of the sea-horse exhibit at the aquarium includes a small conservation window showing dried sea-horses and bags of pipe fish. The message on the wall explains the problems of using sea-horses in traditional chinese medicine. P saw the window and was fixated. He demanded to know why the sea-horses had died. I reminded him that everything dies. How it die? WHY it die? Read it mama. So I read the info on the wall and he sat with that for a bit. Then he wanted to know Why someone would use it for medicine. But why kill a sea-horse to feel better? Then he wanted to know if the sea-horse had gone on to its next life. Was it there now? Who did it become?

Its times like this that I understand the lure of distraction. "Oh, honey, its a happy-wappy dead little sea horse, come see this cute wittle cowfishy!!! " But I know P can't be distracted. And even if he could, it would piss me off if I was asking E to help me figure something out and he was like, "Aww, its ok. Hey! Did you see the new Bush headline?" So I stuck with the conversation, hoping not to say anything that would confuse him even more. Then yesterday I was looking up information about motion sickness for our upcoming plane trip. P asked about it and I told him I was looking up some medicine. The look he gave me broke my heart. I couldn't fathom why he would look at me like that. We stood looking at each other for a minute (if I was to quiz him about it he would just say "nofin" so I usually wait). Then he asked "you gonna take the dead sea-horse medicine?" Fortunately, my answer was no.

You're probably wondering what sort of torture we've done to the child to wire him this way. It all started with an innocently informative book on a passion of his: sharks. There was a dead shark in the book, one of Many pictures, and it really upset P. At the time I decided a large part of the problem is the structure of society. Most kids don't see anything die these days. My parent's generation saw chickens twirled and cows slaughtered. But a kid in the US, especially a vegetarian city kid, doesn't see much death. So I started to blame myself, that we weren't raising him close enough to the earth etc. But after conversations with other moms, city and country, vegetarian, vegan and meat eaters alike, it appears that it is just P. None of them report problems with books or seeing dead pigeons in the street with their toddlers. After the sea-horse inquisition at the aquarium P was determined to show Emily (Yoav's mama) the window. I was a wee bit concerned about him traumatizing Yoav with his worries, but it wasn't a problem. Yoav wasn't interested and I was relieved when the two started chasing each other. Then I remembered that my father brought me a dried sea-horse from one of his adventures when I was a little girl. I still remember holding it, thinking it was amazing. The death part never even crossed my mind, it was just a pretty treasure.

But P doesn't see the pretty treasure angle. And his death grip goes beyond the metaphysical. He's been fascinated by biology since he turned 2. He loves talking about skeletons, blood and body parts, We were standing beside a pregnant woman on the train one day this spring. Seemingly out of nowhere he turns to me and asks, "When I in you, I in your blood?" It took me a moment to put it together, and that's how P learned about amniotic sacks and belly buttons etc. I think I learned about all of that when I was pregnant :)

So, shortly after the shark incident we saw a dead rat in Central Park. We still naively thought short and sweet was the best approach. His many questions were answered simply with, everything dies, just like the leaves in the fall -its a cycle and its all good. He had made the jump from sharks die to mama dies the week before while I was cooking dinner. But after the rat he realized he too would die. Nothing is sadder than a two year old crying "I no want to die" while you carry him through the park. And it was this realization months ago that leads to his funny pronouncements at quirky times these days. He ate something yummy the other day and told me: "I love this mama. It my favorite thing. I wish I could eat it forever and ever and ever. I eat it all, we get more. I eat That, we get more. Again and again and again, and then I die."

Monday: Baby Walrus and the Beach

There's a new baby walrus at the NY Aquarium. The papa walrus is a total ham, shoving his face against the glass and blowing bubbles for the viewers. This has enamored P with walruses in general and he was pretty psyched to see the baby and spend the afternoon at the beach.

We met his sweet buddy Yoav there and the boys explored the shark, sea horse and walrus exhibits with glee. P feels a trip to the zoo/aquarium isn't complete without a stop in the toy store for some junky safari themed car, so he surprised me this time with his choice of a walrus stuffed animal. Dubbed "Walrus," it has even inspired him to pull out his other stuffed animals for play parties today.

The sun was just warm enough to make splashing in the waves fun but not so hot that we burned. It was perfect. P Loves to run into the waves and then run back out, fake screaming, acting like they are chasing him. The boys enjoyed the simple pleasure of just digging in the sand with their toes. P also made a track for his cars and made sure sand filled every crevasse of our bag during his excavation project.

When the wind picked up and we had eaten enough sand we all headed back to the sub for short ride home. P was exhausted, but he wasn't going to give up easily, so we made Halloween decorations. Basically he just dripped glue, all of the glue, all over construction paper. Its still drying tonight, 24 hours later :) When he finally passed out, he was cradling his baby walrus.

P and Public Peeing

After a lazy morning and a nice nap we wanted one last date with our city before heading to Kansas for a month. More in the mood for mellow than mayhem, we headed to Dumbo. Get the view yet skip, mostly, the tourists.

Its so very Global Warming, but the day was deliciously warm with a little fall breeze added in. We hit the tiny beach first and P made sand homes for all of his cars. Eventually, shouting over the roar of the subway above wore on me and we wandered the park path to the stone beach by the playground. P's favorite pastime with a great view. We chucked rocks and watched people flock to the fashion show across the way. Someone had created a teeter totter out of driftwood on the beach and another family joined us as we tried to balance each other out. P was playing monkey and miraculously didn't get his body squished under the huge board.

After the sun had set and we watched the city light up for the night we walked to dinner. I love eating out with Phoenix because trying new foods excites him so very much. I wish I had the dedication to make something new every night, but we do a lot of ol' reliables at home. The food at Rice was inventive and enjoyable and it was fun to watch him find new flavors.

None of us were ready for the day to end so we wandered back to the water, this time to the view beside the River Cafe (bottom picture, above). One of my mom's favorite local eateries, the River Cafe is no pizza joint. It lies down its own cobbled street, lined with trees lit with beautiful lights, overlooking the water and the city. The food is rated remarkable and there is a dress code. When Phoenix saw the setting he was inspired. "I love this place! It my favorite! I want to stay here forever and ever! Mama, see how pretty it is? Holy Shoot!" He was Dying to walk down the street into the restaurant's area and I really didn't know the protocol. I figured we weren't walking into the actual Restaurant, it couldn't hurt to just walk Around it. So we wandered down, Phoenix getting more and more excited by the additional lights and flowers and the little waterfall. We peered around all of the potted plants and the little garden across from the suited men and then P shimmied between two flower pots. I imagined he was captured by some unusually pretty leaf, as he was standing Really close to the ivy covered wall. I glanced down to see what held his interest and saw.... his penis. He was pottying on the ivy. Granted, he had chosen an impressively private space, but he was nonetheless peeing Right in Front of the Door to the River Cafe. (Myopic mother that I am, one of my first thoughts was that he had been able to pull the front of his pants down by himself this time.) I told myself that no one noticed and tried to chuckle loudly enough to drown out his proud explanation of "I water those plants!" Ahhh.

We were a little sad to say goodnight to the city, and goodbye for the next month, but this incident did make me look forward to being on the farm for a bit where he can pee as he pleases :)

Brooklyn Botanical Gardens

Poor E had to work today. P and E roughhoused on the bed ("you wanna roughhouse papa? wanna wrestle?") all morning and then E schlepped into town. Phoenix wanted some time with Seth and when presented with the options of beach, park, zoo or gardens he chose gardens.

It really was a lovely fall day. The gardens were glorious! P gathered fallen berries from each berry bearing tree, including some interesting gingko fruit and a strange lemon. Then we watched the koi swim while Seth unknowingly sat beside a supermodel. Phoenix's personal destination was the children's garden at the far end of the park. E's stories have featured Crete, minotaurs and labyrinths lately so P was determined to do the mini maze in the kid's section. We ran around "losing" Phoenix and touching all of the textured leaves. I've noticed that despite spending most of his time with me he has inherited the noise-making traits of the Schultz clan. He whizzed down garden paths singing and chanting and puffing. He dodged trolls under the little bridge, walked the balance beam and looked at Uncle Seth through the kaleidoscope.

At closing time we wandered through the park to his favorite pizza place and sat in the amazingly empty backyard by candlelight. He sat still through most of the meal but eventually tried to use Seth as a jungle gym. Before getting spazzy though, he leaned in and said "I love you Uncle Seth." When Seth returned the sentiment P initiated one of his current favorite word games that he gleaned from the book "How much do you love me?" In the book, an eskimo girl asks her mother how much she is loved and how long she will be loved. P's version tonight went something like this "How much you love me than this pizza?" And even though it is Outstanding pizza, P was picked and he was pleased.

Thursday: Central Park and the Zoo

Thursday's plan included a LLL meeting and a trip to the Met with pals for the Start with Art program. Due to P's cold/teething combo we'd only left the house once (to play with Malek) all week! The morning went swimmingly, grabbing our bagel only ran us 30 minutes late for the LLL meeting :) We don't go regularly, I think this was our 3rd meeting ever, but its nice to occasionally be around mom's with lots of nursing experience. There's always lots of toys and kids and a generally supportive atmosphere.

All P knew was that we were off for a day's adventure and he was very leery when I started up the stoop to the meeting. After quizzing me about where we were headed he told me he was a little nervous and wasn't sure he wanted to go. I told him I was sometimes nervous going to new places too. He said "You nervous they gonna knock you down and take your toys?" I almost melted. Here was the key to his play-group anxiety! He'll often agree to a play-date (with a promise from me that I won't let kid's steal his toys), but a play-group is a stretch for him most days. Apparently, the poor kid has really taken it to heart when he's been hit. Understandably, but for some reason it still surprised me. I guess because he never cries or anything when he's attacked - he just tries to make nice and looks nervous. Apparently, he's very nervous.

We talked it through and went to the meeting. I had a quick night-weaning question (we night-weaned 5 months ago but Phoenix has yet to accept it!) during which he loudly announced to the whole group "This place is freaking me out! Let's get out of here!" Everyone laughed so he had to repeat it about 5 times and then we were off to Central Park.

We started towards the Zoo but were sidetracked by some big boulders to race cars on. When it came time for the Met he stalled and stuttered, so we skipped it. Enough big groups for one day - he wanted to play with "just you, mom." We meandered to different areas of the park, looking for the just right dirt-pile, just the right rock to race on. These were all things we could have done in Prospect Park, but Central Park is just special. There's the beautiful backdrop, of course. And you can't beat bumper cars on boulders beside a live jazz quartet. He nixed his nap, pulled handfuls of grass from the Great Lawn and then ran over a woman's painting. I suggested it was time for the Tisch Zoo.

We had somehow missed the existence of the Children's Zoo in Central Park. Perhaps it was the pull of the big polar bear that had blinded us, but I was excited to have finally discovered it. Though short on actual animals, it was long on fun. There were lots of lily pads to leap (P's personal favorite), giant bunnies ("Where their faces go? They lose them?"), turtle shells and eggs to crawl in, alpacas to feed, giant spider-webs to climb and tunnels to run through. He had a blast and I didn't knock him down or steal his toys even once:)

Alacazat and Asses

So, I'm not a big fan of movies for young kids. All of the fast editing. I won't get started on the subject. But stories and books are supposed to be safe, right? Yesterday had me wondering...

We were playing hide-and-go-seek with one of his cars. I found the car and oh-so-smoothly stuck it in my back pocket asking P where could it be? When he saw the empty hiding space he was grinning but confused. This is how he tried to work it out in his mind while I just smiled:

"Where it go mama? Where Doc? Maybe you do magic mama? You do magic mama? How bout we not do magic and we get him back? You say alacazat.... Where is him? Where is him mama? Maybe you ate him? Poop him out of your mouth. You ate him mama? Let's find the car."

Soooooo.... E's been telling him stories that often feature his fairy godmother who says alacazat. Just a sweet story to us, apparently a real possibility to him. I can just see him losing us on the subway and screaming Alacazat to ask his fairy godmother for help. Great. The second half of his reasoning is inspired by a Schultz family favorite that features Froggy the hand. He eats pennies and such and then spits them out or disposes of them in the, um, other direction. Apparently, P has combined this action into the one swell mouth pooping possibility.

This illustrated a point Alfie Kohn makes on punishment. You can Intend for your child to learn X through a certain punishment, but there's no way to insure that. A child learns what makes sense to Their brain, not ours (and, generally, with punishment, they just learn that we're assholes). But it also made me wonder about Santa and stories in general. Should I constantly tell him things aren't real, only a story? Seems honest, but slightly cynical. Do I let him keep the magic alive in his head? The answer isn't clear to me. I'll have to figure it out sometime, but for the time being, I magically pulled the car out of my ass when he said Alacazat.

Wolves

P Loves books. Right now he's unusually enthralled by Halloween stories of witches, monsters etc. But wolves have reined as king for a while now. It all started with "Little Red." Its a spin-off of the classic Little Red Riding Hood, but with gorgeous, semi-macabre illustrations where the illustrious cape wearer is a boy that delivers ginger ale. The whole book is brilliant right down to the wolf burping out ol' granny, but the boy's pantry always confused P. It's a typical past era, meat-eater's pantry featuring pig's head's, bunnies and ducks hanging from hooks and mice noshing on large cheese wheels. We went over the dead heads countless times and that page still caught him with each read. I was slightly glad when our renewals were up and we returned it;)

In it's stead came "Wolves" by Emily Gravett. Slightly less gorgeous but much more informative, the book seems to end with the lead character's (a bunny's) death. As the bunny reads a book about wolves within this book, he learns a wolves' typical diet includes... bunnies. And on the page that provides this information the bunny is gone, leaving behind his scratched and torn wolves book. When we got to this page P was horrified. "Where the bunny mama? The wolf eat him? Why his book all scratched? The wolf eat him? Where is he?" I know this is a hot spot for P, and as I silently cursed myself for not flipping through before reading I turned the page to see a note. It was from the author and explained that no bunnies were hurt in the writing of this book, it is a work of fiction. And for more sensitive souls an alternate ending was provided. The two year old didn't understand this, but the next page he did. It showed the ripped up bunny and wolf eating a sandwich collaged out of the book's pieces and described how the bunny was in luck. This wolf was a vegetarian and they shared a jam sandwich and became best friends. I thought P was going to explode with happiness when I read this. Book after book after book has gone against his personal preferences and here was one that validated him. He actually jumped up and down saying "I love this book! It my favorite!! Read it again, mama, read it again!!"

Getting a beer with Uncle Seth

Monday P played in his bean bin. Sometimes this goes swimmingly, sometimes it gets messy. Yesterday was messy. It never ceases to amaze me how he can scatter dried beans from one end of the playroom to the other in the time it takes me to retrieve the laundry from the dryer. We are obviously working with different elements of time :) The old picture, above, is from a different day, a non messy day, if this gives you any idea.

So after he was finished being the wind or whatever I started to clean. Sometimes he jumps right in to help, sometimes he doesn't. Yesterday, he didn't. He wandered around opening his drawers looking for something. He gathered his keys and his phone and told me Uncle Seth was on it. I asked him to take a message and I'd call him back after the beans were in the bin. He did so. Then he asked me to help him find his wallet. I looked and didn't see it and went back to picking up beans. He kept looking, saying he really needed his wallet, he was going on a sub and needed his sub card. A couple of minutes later he said "Oh well. Sorry, mama. I can't play with you [clean]. I'm going bye bye to meet Uncle Seth for a beer."

Unschooling the B69

An unschooling aside: We aren't "teaching" P his letters. After a lot of reading we concur completely with the unschooling philosophy of outside introduction. We answer all of his endless questions and let his fiery curiosity lead his learning. I believe in this wholeheartedly, I do. But hearing other kids recite their ABC's or 123's and be quizzed on letters can be a bit unnerving, square peg on a round globe and such. So, the other day when we were cooking P wanted to know how long before something would be ready. I told him 15 minutes. He went to our big clock in the playroom and asked me to show him where the clock's hand would be (a pretty common occurrence). So I showed him the spot and told him "When it reaches the 6, here, it will be ready." Then he pointed to the 9 and said "9. There's the 6 and 9, where's B for the B69?" I was positively tickled. Since we don't quiz him on his knowledge we have to patiently trust the learning that is happening - I don't know what numbers or letters he knows until he announces them like this. The B69 is our bus - we've never purposely showed him the numbers before and he's learned from his world in a way that matters to him. I love watching organic learning!

Sunday: Sleepy Hollow

In our previous lives as non-parents E and I had visited Sleepy Hollow Cemetery one Halloween and were awed by the fall foliage. Irving's grave lies in this hilly, gorgeous space with a slow, little town at the base of said hill. We knew it was a bit early for the leaves to have reached their full splendor, but thought P might enjoy running around the idyllic area. Despite a late night, Phoenix's awesome Uncle Seth was up for the adventure and beat us to Times Square Sunday morning.

We split our trip into two sections knowing the commute to Grand Central combined with the train ride up the Hudson might be asking a bit much of the wee one. He hadn't yet experienced the Toys R Us in Times Square (a short walk from Grand Central) so we went there for a morning of play. For those not indoctrinated into the commercial mayhem of this store, there is an entire Ferris Wheel (replete with branded toy faces) spanning the store's 3 levels (P enjoyed the ride). An air-born Superman saves a life-size truck and the robotic T-rex is some 25 feet high (this fascinated him). And the toys, oh my. Almost an entire level was dedicated to things with wheels. This, of course, was where we spent our time. Phoenix's list grew exponentially during this outing.

The train ride was lovely. Phoenix snoozed the whole trip and we watched the cliffs and boats along the Hudson. He awoke as we left the train and after a late lunch and some ice-cream we walked up to the cemetery. The sign said it should be closed, but the gates hung wide open and we wandered up the path. The tombstones reach back to the 1800's and range from tiny hand-carved blocks to beautiful sculptures. P told me he was a bit nervous about it all, being 2 and preoccupied by death can do that, but he seemed to get over it as he raced his new car on top of the gorgeous graves.

After exploring a little we hiked down to the river and P indulged in one of his favorite pastimes, throwing rocks in water. When the sun started to set we headed to the gate only to find it locked. Padlocked. We hopped a short spot and meandered back to the station where E wound a fabulous yarn while we waited for our train. If he so much as paused for an inhale P would chant "Story. Story! STORY!" E and Seth took turns telling tales the whole ride back to Grand Central. We've found nothing captivates Phoenix quite like an adventure story starring himself. Specifically P saving something or escaping something and making friends with mythological creatures. But in a pinch, even a review of his day will do. (I guess everyone has their weakness :) When we finally made it home we realized there hadn't been a single glitch to the day, no tantrums, tears, really no trials of any kind. Not that any of those things are problems, but sometimes easy is nice. It was such an easy day in fact, that it reminded me of when we went BP (before P), but with the added benefit, of course, of P.

Fun Times Friday

We met P's best buddy Malek at the playground Friday. (Yes, out of the house!!) The boys had fun playing the popular toddler game of aimlessly chasing one another. They of course have no idea what to do when they catch each other, but the chasing seems to be enough. Around the equipment and down the swirly slide is their current favorite. I was reminded today that toddlers are a pretty outspoken/demanding lot (how could i forget?) and I think this is why P often balks at play-dates. When other kids yell at him he tends to force a smile or try to disappear. If the yelling is over an object, he hands the bounty to the buddy and sweetly says "here you go" while he bounces his head up and down in an exaggerated fashion. (I've come to recognize the big head bounce as a sure sign of his discomfort; its as if he hopes that with enough validating-type nodding he can get the other person to nod and smile too.) Now if the object in question belongs to him, the spirited little baby I've always known steps up, like last week when he stood up to the bullies. And if the object in question is me (i.e. some kid dumping sand on my feet or taking a toy he thinks I'm playing with), forgettaboutit. I've never felt so fiercely protected in my life. If the object in question is him, he is torn. He wants to meet the other's expectations, but if he isn't comfortable with their demands, he freezes, unsure of this grey area.

We work hard to come up with solutions everyone is comfortable with at home (no forced bedtimes, food requirements or rules etc), so he doesn't deal with demands daily. (Other than his own!) He's always been so strong, some might even say willful :) around us that seeing him shrink to please or accommodate feels like watching an emotional train wreck. I know he'll get used to kids yelling someday and that interactions change as kids grow, but its a pretty painful process to watch. When he was younger I worried that he would bulldoze over the world with his will. Now a whole new side is emerging. This one understands there are expectations and will even bend to them to keep the peace. I know this is part of living in a community, but its actually a little sad to watch some of the fire go.

After a spin on the swings we all went for pizza and then briefly watched the tractors before heading home for naps. And after an afternoon of playing and cooking at home with a brief stint as a construction worker P had a visit from Uncle Seth. The world revolves around Seth when he is here. (Actually, even when he's not. P made muffins this morning and when they came out he picked one for himself - and one for Seth. He even wanted to pack it in a bag for him.) The only downside to such excitement is, well, all of the excitement. From the moment Seth walks in the door until the teary eyed moment that he leaves, P is All Over Him. I'd post pictures of their play but they are all blurry from the intense tickling/wrestling/running movements inherent in these interactions :) I love that P has these fantastic extended-family moments to keep his seemingly sensitive faith in social interactions high. At the end of the day, difficulties be damned, P really, really likes his sweet buddies. But for Phoenix, there's nobody quite like Uncle Seth.

Wed/Thursday: Feeling like Fall and Playing Cars

Winter is a brutal combination for P. His clothes must be uber-soft, seamless and loose or he positively will not put them on. (For those naive enough to think this is something that can be forced with a strong 2 year old, I assure you it cannot. I adamantly disagree with any manhandling, but exasperated E tried once and found out it does not work.) Last winter P was still short on explanations and I didn't understand why we needed to stay inside for the entire season lolling about naked. What, having 18 layers on and scratchy wool is a problem for you? The kid in "The Christmas Story" got on just fine without moving his arms! On the warmer days we would venture to the playground, me bundled and P barely covered, layers in tow. Eventually, lips blue and limbs trembling, he would request a whole shirt. Frigid days might even procure a hat, but that's that. Our stroller, thank gawd, has a bunting bag. New to this midwesterner, its basically a sleeping bag for your kid to snuggle in while he is pushed in his pram. Needless to say, P spent most of the winter (when we weren't in the house!) cozy in a diaper and T shirt inside this bag, E and I staring in envy as we braved the chill, sans sack.

After spending the last two days indoors hibernating (sure, it rained yesterday but the day before was beautiful!) I was determined to get into the sun before winter locks us in again. I love my child. I do. I think I'm even one of those cloying mothers that grins like a cheshire cat at their kid while others are rolling their eyes. And I really don't mind being locked in a small space with him - he's fun to hang with. But locked in a small space on a sunny day while he is going through a car phase nearly kills me. "Do Sally, do Sally! MAMA!!!! Do Sally!!!!"

But I don't know what to DO with Sally.

I realize now that when I played cars with my brother I designed tracks and we raced for speed. But P treats his cars like I treated my stuffed animals. He talks with them, tells them stories. The other day he was discussing his plans with one. "Let's go to the playground. Oh, okay. Mama gonna come along? Oh, how nice, I love mom." When they get hurt he cradles them and carries them around rocking them in his arms. He's nursed his cars, napped with his cars and shared favorite foods with his cars. But when he requests my participation there is suddenly some plot I am supposed to be privy to - one that I never get quite right.

I believe said plot is from the movie Cars. Cute film to be sure and it surely saved us when he had the flu, twice. Until recently I'd prescribed to the movie/toy combo seems to kill creativity group. When he plays with his other cars they save grandpapa and fall off of cliffs and other inventions of his mind. When he wants me to play with his prized Pixar cars he tries to stay true to the movie and it just seems so much more ... limiting. Ethan argues that it provides new story-lines. Granted, the play-doh "Cozy (caution) Cone" motel rooms Were Pixar inspired. He's also fixated on his Sheriff car giving other cars tickets for speeding. Story-line inspired by the movie? Yes. But have you ever pretended to get a ticket 35 times in a row before? And right about the time I was ready to totally condemn DVD's I realized we get chased by his imaginary monster daily and there is nary more plot to that play either.

So maybe it isn't the movie that is limiting, maybe its the 2 year old's brain. And maybe its me. While I get bored with his routine play plots, rehearsing that routine probably makes him feel like he knows what's going to happen in a world where he rarely understands future events. After 2 days straight of car play and lots of worrying I realized I can't get past their wheels. Its hard for me to see them as more than cars; good for racing, crashing and fancy driving. Meanwhile, for P, they are so much more, with well defined (if not fairly flat) personalities and purposes. So I've decided that I'll try introducing his Monster Doll or Pegasus into the Car's realm next time - to cure My mind's limits. Combined with some softer winter clothes and that sack, maybe my sanity will be saved this winter season. And as difficult for me as it is with all of the research out there, his DVD collection is saved for another day too...

Albert Einstein

Sounds like this brilliant mind supported unschooling:)

"One had to cram all of this stuff into one's mind, whether one liked it or not. This coercion had such a deterring effect that, after I had passed the final examination, I found the consideration of any scientific problems distasteful to me for an entire year... It is in fact nothing short of a miracle that the modern methods of instruction have not entirely strangled the holy spirit of inquiry; for this delicate little plant, aside from stimulation, stands mainly in need of freedom; without this it goes to wrack and ruin without fail. It is a very grave mistake to think that the enjoyment of seeing and searching can be promoted by means of coercion and a sense of duty."

Monday and Meat Eaters

Mondays, typically, we clean and play. After a weekend of whirling out the door P wants his toys and the house wants a good once over. First thing he did Monday was pull out Every animal he owns for a parade, as seen above. This, of course, is essential to a good house cleaning. But I've noticed a real change of late on these days. Before, he would get very frustrated if I suggested I leave the parade grounds to make breakfast and wash the dishes. Now, he will often run after me to continue his story or even, occasionally, stay at his play parade by Himself. Even more wonderful, when I suggest that I leave the monster truck rally to pick up a little bit he often runs along side me and hurriedly picks up the house. When he thinks things look nice (trucks dumped in one corner sure, but generally getting things in the right place) he says "Now you can plaaaaay!!!!" He's getting things figured out :)

I really saw unschooling in action yesterday morning. Innocent P, not yet programmed to think of learning as anything separate from just good ol' life livin', was thirsting for information while parade planning. He loves to hear about an animal's habitat and diet. He picked up his brown bear and announced that "this is a bear. It eats sam." (E had told him a story about a salmon eating bear just last week and he remembered the details, mostly :)) As I made breakfast he ran in to ask about his Tapir. He knows all of the names, many of the habitats, so now he's working on the diets. He wanted me to look up what a Tapir eats "on the 'puter." So out came wikipedia and we discovered his favorite tapir facts : they only have one pair of neenee's, the baby tapir's coloring is totally different with pretty spots and stripes, and they are vegetarian grazers who love berries and such. When I read this tidbit he actually cheered and pumped his little fists in the air shouting "Like us!"

You'd think we had baptized the kid at a Peta party or something. The subject is something P has been stuck on for a while now, despite our hardy avoidance. Sitting down to breakfast with my folks one morning P saw my dad with a piece of bacon. "You eat pig?" After an affirmative he had one word for my father. "Why?" And like my poor sideswiped father that morning, we have yet to answer this question to his satisfaction.

So back at the parade, he asked why his arctic wolf eats meat. I told him they didn't' have grocery stores with hummus and tomatoes and their bodies evolved on a meat diet. Do you see the conundrum? "What's evolve mama?" Then he asked, again, "Why do some people eat meat?" "Well, P, some people eat meat, some don't." "No, mama. Them not supposed to eat meat. Animals no like that. They no want to die. They Can't. Eat. Meat." And he stomped his little foot. He'd never expressed this sentiment so strongly before. The first time it arose he had just turned 2 and the neighbors downstairs were cooking fish for dinner. He asked what the smell was and I told him fish. He asked what the fish was doing and I told him Kate was cooking it for dinner. He looked shocked and said "fish no like that very much." I bust a gut on that one. But I wasn't' laughing yesterday. He actually had tears in his eyes and I remembered how black and white the world is as a child. Your father is the strongest, your dog the cutest, and your mom the best cook. And that's as simple as that. Animals don't want to die so you Can't Eat Them. Ahhh how morally righteous the young are ... right until they kick the cat.

Its not that we don't want him to choose a vegetarian lifestyle, or that we don't on some level agree with him. I'm just surprised that he's chosen it so young. We have never said anything to him about it. Not eating meat speaks volumes to him I'm sure, but we don't kick the cat either and that hasn't exactly rubbed off on him. I think children's lit has to share the burden of his strong emotion. All of those books with those sweet talking cows and pigs. Who wants to eat the Duck who's truck was stuck in the muck? (Great book by the way) All of that anthropomorphizing is bound to cause some confusion in a young mind.

So there was a full unschooling journey before our bagel was eaten. I'm not a huge fact lover (trivia floats right out of my head and I figure that's what wikipedia is for) but learning tidbits feels like a traditional education and my schooled brain does adore his growing stockpile. And magically mixed in with the minutiae was the big picture. The stuff school doesn't' usually have time for. Unstructured play and free thought.

Later we made a swing out of his old baby wrap. When he lays in it, as above, it is his hammock. He can also sit up and swing in the normal fashion. While I was making lunch he discovered his new favorite way to ride in his hammock. He puts his belly in the middle and twirls to twist it tight above his head. When he picks up his feet it unwinds, spinning him silly. This, he loved! Today he tried standing on his hammock and that ended, very, very badly, but that is another post for another time.

Getting Wet at the Met: Thursday

After my eye doctor check-up ( its healing well ) I figured we'd give the Metropolitan Museum of Art's "Start with Art" program a whirl. I was quite keen on seeing some art so we schlepped uptown to the big white steps. When we arrived Phoenix announced that he no longer wanted to hear a lady tell stories about paintings. I told him some of his pals would be there - still no go. I offered to be the lady, to tell him stories. This he liked, so in we went.

The stroller entrance started his tour off in a totally different direction than I had imagined. We emptied into ancient Egyptian art and wandered past the large sculptures (whose paintless eyes had P asking "Why they sleeping? Why their eyes closed?"). It didn't really spark his interest though until I explained the purpose of the sarcophagus and described some of the baby toy artifacts. He was riveted. It was adorable. It never would have occurred to me that Death would be his entry into the art world, but with his fascination I should have known... (Quick note: He's mentioned sarcophagi twice since Thursday and hearing him mangle the word is hilarious.)

In a short time he was ready for something new and we went through the Rembrandt exhibit at a fairly fast pace. (It was sadly reminiscent of Ethan and the Louvre.) A few paintings caught his attention though (particularly a squirrel with a plum - he Loves plums) and if I stopped and chatted about a piece he was really engaged. Then I introduced him to Carravagio and Gentileschi et al. It thrilled me that he was seeing these, really looking at them. He may have been ever so slightly less thrilled than I, but he was enjoying it, I swear. Then we stumbled upon the Start with Art group and P was finally Truly thrilled. The twins, Dez and Nini, were there and so was Benny. We listened to the next art talk (that lasted about 2 minutes longer than P's interest) and then wandered off. In the next room, Phoenix noticed a large battle painting and was captivated. He wanted to know why the people were dead, how they died, who killed them, why they would fight, what was a war, butbutbut who, Who Killed them??? The concept that one man would kill another On Purpose (rather than by traumatic car accident) completely confused him. As I stammered and hemmed the other kids rushed by and we all headed down to play in the park. Whew.

We never made it to the playground though, the empty fountain in the plaza was playground enough for this gang. I don't know if it was the racetrack shape, the walls to climb on or the well placed puddles, but the kids had a blast getting wet, running, driving cars and eating cookies for a couple of hours. When it was time to meet E for dinner P didn't want to leave unless his friends were leaving. Perhaps his small circle is expanding after all :)

Phoenix Loves Dirt

Tractors, Dirt-piles and Bullies.

Since we overstayed our welcome at Playgroop yesterday and then dawdled around that neighborhood eating hummus and stopping at every motorcycle, I thought P'd want to stay in today. It started that way, with his breakfast of Sun Drops (basically M&M's without food coloring) and smoothie, until he heard a tractor roaring down our street. This reminded him he had seen tractors parked down the block and he was quite eager to watch them work. After a quick shower (during which he read a book to himself! It was only last month that my cleanliness was still intricately tied to his dismay. For the past 2 weeks I've been able to shower without a hiccup, nary a tear in sight.) and a quick lunch we headed out for tractors and then the library.

One block over is a lovely disaster. There was a back-hoe, 2 dump-trucks, a bulldozer and a few more machines scattered around for good measure. Plus workers, pipes, wood, generators, water suckers - the whole works. They've ripped open the street and there is a gully that runs 2 stories deep showing the infrastructure of the city below. The guys were on lunch break so P and I were able to tour the machines and stand at the top of the gulch, discussing what we saw. After about 20 minutes of heaven a nice worker came over and offered P a ride in his machine. He was a bit hesitant, but climbed up. Then the guys were back to work and P was riveted for another 20 minutes. We were supposed to meet his buddy, M, at the library, so he finally tore himself away, waving to all of the men in hard-hats.

After some fun picking books and treating the library steps and ramps like a jungle gym P and M parted ways for M to nap. Phoenix has really been on a no nap kick lately. He told me he was tired but that he didn't want to sleep :) But he was in his "zone" so I steered him towards a nice quiet space in the park where he couldn't run in front of any cars or kick anybody's lunch over. It was a really beautiful fall day and we sat by a new outdoor sculpture framed by a large garden and P dove into a dirt pile with his cars. Its wonderful to see someone play in the dirt with such abandon :)

When some rougher big kids and their post-school nannies overtook the area we decided to head home to read his new books. As we were leaving 2 of the boys acted fairly aggressively towards P. He was uncomfortable but stood his ground, pointing his little finger at them he said "No. I no want to play with you."

He stands so strong, but you can tell he doesn't understand that type of interaction. He's really been struggling with the concept of "not nice" lately. Its like a world he knows is there but doesn't get on any level. He wants books with scary ghosts and mean monsters. He wants stories that are a little edgy, but then he changes his request as we start to spin our tale, telling us "It a nice king. Not a mean king. That king nice?"

After the dirt-pile we were reading a book and out of seemingly nowhere he asked me "Why mean boys throw sand in my face and on my tractor?" This incident occurred a couple of months ago at the playground. E and I were both there and couldn't believe it when two older boys jumped in an otherwise empty sandpit and started to taunt P. We were sitting a ways away on a bench and held back, seeing P stand his ground. Then they started tossing sand on his tractor. By the time our butts were off the bench they had both flung handfuls of sand into P's face. The whole interaction lasted less than 30 seconds and appeared to have no purpose. We had to flush P's eyes for 3 or 4 minutes before he could see again. He's been resistant to that playground ever since, but has never brought it up until today. It broke my heart to realize he had been trying to puzzle it together for so long and that the two bullies today had conjured it back up. But when he asked me, I realized I still feel like I'm missing the same puzzle piece. Why are people mean?

I think its a harder concept to chat about than his other obsession, Death, because at least death seems to have a purpose. Its great that he leads a life where meanness can be such an enigma rather than a given, but since it is so novel, it really shocks him when he sees it. So he introduces it into his play regularly these days with one car being rough with the others, a mean TRex that crushes cars, a monster that chases us, or, just recently, a mean troll that lived under a bridge he had constructed for his cars. After playing that game for a bit the other day he stopped and asked me why the troll was "not nice" and I gave my usual, "I'm not sure P, what do you think?" "He probably just needs a friend," he told me. And I think he may have found our puzzle piece. Queue the Beatles and "All you need is love..."

Playing at Playgroop

Play-Doh with the Playgroop

L, a wonderful peace activist I met this summer, put together a home-school "pre-school" for her twins, a play-group with a purpose if you will. Straight up home-schooling wouldn't fly for P and I, but this little group relishes child led learning and it is wonderful. Every Tuesday, a bus ride away, in a pretty backyard, great moms and kids, with art or science objects strewn about to ignite the kids imaginations. No pressure, no instructions, no rugs to sit on and sing cheesy songs...

I've realized over the past few months that had I not fallen for unschooling when P was a baby he very well would have led me to it anyway. Last spring we were walking past the school at the end of our block when P asked me what it was. A school. What a school? Kids go there to learn things. Downbeat. He notices no parents. Their mama's go too? No, P, its just for kids, the mamas don't go. P (he spoke in third person back then) no wanna go school. P no like it. That's fine P, I told him, you don't have to, there are lots of ways to learn.

I wondered if his tune would change as some of his peers went off to preschool. I make a point of not dissing school in front of him. God forbid I die and he has to go there after I demonize it! (E swears he'll figure out a way to keep him out! Yay E!!!) So he's never heard much about school from us, good or bad, and it doesn't seem to pique his interest. But he has an adamant opinion nonetheless. He was chatting up a guy in the park the other day (his second favorite form of socialization) and the man asked P if he was starting school. "No, I no go to school." The man asked why not. "I no like it." The man teased him that he was a bit young to have already come to that conclusion. I don't think P understood the tease, just that his answer hadn't proven his point and he looked worried as he said, much louder, "Mama said I no have to go to school. Mama said I no have to!"

And then came the usual worry. So he's, uh, just with you? Translation 1: You're turning him into a social freak when most kids have been in daycare since 6 months. Translation 2: Um, are you qualified to teach this kid Anything? Truthfully, the teaching part doesn't even register as a blip on my mommy-worry radar. I so totally believe in unschooling; nobody teaches anyone anything. Everyone learns best through living. But the social thing (while obviously not a Real concern, as he was out chatting with someone at that Very Moment) is a grey area because P is a bit of a social enigma to me.

He wants to constantly interact. Constantly. Yesterday's 30 minutes of mostly quiet was such an anomaly. I don't mind this trait (my need for solitude aside!), it just means he has input all of the time, he's always processing and producing and plotting and playing. Sounding boards are beneficial. But he has chosen a very small circle for his sounding board process. We've made many nice friends here. Respectful mamas and sweet kids. But he would almost always rather chill at home with E and I. Add in Uncle Seth or his grandparents and his circle is fairly complete. He loves undivided attention, and he doesn't get that with others kids mucking around and their mamas babbling at me. And E and I can be directed. "No, be robot. Or, Skunk! Skunk! I surprise you again, you say sorry but that I don't smell." Etc etc. When its him and other kids, the leader of the pack is up for grabs and the other 3 year olds aren't respectfully listening to his plot requests.

I know this is all normal development for an almost 3 year old. Parallel play rules for a while longer. But every time I see some sweet 2 year old sharing and caring on the playground I wince and briefly worry. So this Playgroop allays my fears. Granted, as you can see in the above picture, after his play-do marathon this weekend the art object wasn't novel enough to tempt him to the craft table. He stood at the periphery and then gravitated to the... cars. (In his defense, that bright red fire-truck was really fantastic. ) But that's why I love this group. Nobody cared that he didn't touch the play-do until everyone else was done and going home. He wasn't shamed back into some circle or shown how to make a predetermined dumb duck shape. He went at his own pace, played with me a lot, but also shared some moments with his friends.

Monday: Makin' Tracks

Monday: Makin' Tracks

I've found that following P's lead in his learning endeavors can get... messy. I'm a tidier by nature now, but by the end of the day this place is a natural disaster! After a weekend in the city P was ready for some downtime (trying to carefully strike that balance so we could make it to playgroop tomorrow) which means the house is his canvas and I am his toy.

I redid his wee dwelling a couple of nights ago. True to my midwestern roots, I just had to expand (the space was too tight for my rump and I had extra shelves just sitting around!) and his tiny home is more of a castle now. This necessitated much car racing (better slide from the second story) and "sight seeing" from his windows. After breakfast we mercifully moved on to some painting time, but his cars soon re-entered the act, making tracks in the paint. The artist in me delighted in his experimental bent, the mama in me internally moaned as paint moved to the floor, the carpet, my arms... It is in these moments that one of my unschooling mantras drones in my head : "Our experience cannot be a way for him to leap over his own journey." (Naomi Aldort) I know exactly how that paint will look on the wood floor, how long it will stay wet on his car wheels and dwindle on the next piece of paper, but he's only just figuring that out. So out comes more paper, some rags and a silent thank you for a child-friendly carpet :)

After he saw how his precious possessions made tracks in paint he decided it was time to pull out the play-do for more track making. He hasn't touched the stuff in a month (after a long play-do bender this summer), but we bought some new cans last week in preparation for the playgroop project tomorrow and his spark is re-ignited. Then came a blissful 30 minutes of solitary play!!! He requested the "real rolling pan" and made smooth road after smooth road to then ruin with tire tracks. I would have never imagined an almost uninterrupted spell of cleaning would feel so special, but there it is. The above pic is P with play-do. I have to shoot from funny angles now that he's on the world wide web. I'd prefer his wanker off said web, and with his proclivity for nudity, photography just got a whole lot more complicated for me!

The rest of the day was mainly spent on, yes, cars. They were dyed different colors (thanks to food coloring) in the bathroom sink. They told stories and acted out numerous plots. More tracks in the tub. But amidst this he became fixated on a story line from Little Bear. In the tale, Little Bear accidently surprises Skunk beside the river. Skunk sprays Bear. Bear asks why? Skunk says she's sorry. I was skunk for about FIVE hours and Phoenix was obsessed with surprising me and getting skunked. I generally try to be above manipulating him in any way, but at the usual time that naps Used to happen, I actually told him my skunk sprayer was weary and that a nap might just help it revitalize :) No dice, no nap, and after a short break for my shusher (the spraying sound) I was a scared Skunk again. Tired jaw aside, there really is no better sound than a toddler's giggles - they are so cute that messes fade into the (paint-filled) woodwork.