Magna Morphs

My mom feels a bit shorted since we don't stick around for the winter holidays. Spoiling is a god given grandmother's right, right? She has therefore taken it upon herself to happily recognize all minor holidays, like, say, May Day :) So P celebrated May Day (a bit late) with some Magna Morphs.

What the hay are Magna Morphs? Animal figurines whose legs, heads, tails etc connect with magnets. The little toy store down the block has a bin of body parts he adores re-attaching, but they (oddly enough) don't actually sell this toy. So he's been requesting it for a while now. I've been reticent to make a purchase because, while he really loves playing with toy animals, its generally not in ways conducive to a toy that comes apart easily :)

Silly me. Listen to your child. Thank goodness my mother did :) P is so in love with these its funny. He has created every absurd creature his little brain could think of. Then he has to quiz them (yes, actually me) about what they eat. Ants? Well, here, I'll set you by this ant hill. Squid? Here's the ocean. And he carefully places them around his space, listing the environments each prey prefers. He also requests their names. The crazier, less pronounceable, the better. But the trick is that he is also playing a memory game with them. So he goes back through, asking them (me) their crazy names and who eats bats, who eats aphids, who eats just air? Apparently, college was just too fun for me, because the kid has to help me through most of the time :) As he was coming down with the stomach flu yesterday (we awoke today to him puking on both of us) we played with these things for 6 hours. Straight. And to think I questioned this toy. Silly mama!

Fashion Statement

The child likes to accessorize :) Once outside, racing glasses were added to the mix, with the pirate patch worn Over the sunglasses. Dangling off of the adorable madras (his pink love finally satisfied) is his sword with a pirate sash. Baby Brother, of course, is in his backpack, joined by Daisy Cow. He is Not a light traveller. In addition to his many additions, E and I both leave the house with full backbacks (snacks, books, drinks, digging toys, funnels...) Almost makes me miss car culture. Almost :)

Seth trumps T-rex

So, due to P's disinterest in hand-washing recently, we've been enjoying a number of colds. While homebound, he's been positively Jonesing for Seth. This weekend the weather looked lovely and we were marginally healthy so we told P we would find some time to play with his Uncle. Saturday was beautiful, so we schlepped for an hour on the sub to scoot through a new park on the Upper West. Not planning ahead, we called Seth at the last minute, making a meet impossible. The child was so disappointed that he just wanted to ride in my mei tai. We figured a scoot under a gorgeous canopy overlooking the river would help him find his happy spot so we pushed on with him strapped to my back. When we happened upon a Dinosaur Playground, complete with sculpted T-rex, we figured we were golden. "Wanna get down and play, P?" "No," he sighed, "Let's just go home." "What's at home P?" "Oh, he replied, "Let's just go home {sigh} and make Seth out of Play-doh. {Sigh} We can make Seth and Phoenix out of playdoh and then they can play together."

Is that not the saddest, sweetest thing ever? Needless to say, we called Seth and hopped a train back to Brooklyn.

I don't know why we had felt compelled to leave our neighborhood to begin with. The park was alive, glimmering with new green leaves and kites decorating the sky. Seth brought his skateboard (inspiring P to finally scoot) and frisbee. After tossing the frisbee around P grabbed E's umbrella and was ready to fence. Seth was given the shorter, flimsier, homemade version (the kid doesn't really fight fair yet :) and they chased each other around. He really was in heaven. When it was toothbrushing time we headed home, P begging Seth to join us for a sleepover :)

The Escape Artist

You know that feeling, the one that says something just isn't right? Yah, well, I had that while showering today. I had left my sweet three year old enjoying a bag of flour and a pile of trucks at the table. Since he occasionally helps himself to items in the hallway (who doesn't get the sporadic hankering for their bike?) and then leaves the entry door hanging open, I've started using the extra bolt when I'm really occupied. What could possibly go wrong? I'd asked him to wait to play with the knives until I was out of the shower :)

But the roar of the water couldn't hide a suspicious quiet. I called for P. Its still a rarity to spend 2 seconds alone in the bathroom - so I assumed it was just the novelty confusing me. Strangely enough, no pitter patter of little feet. A couple more shouts and the absence was obvious. I jumped out, grabbed a towel and dripped my way through the strangely empty apartment. The door was shut. Flour table? Nope. Kitchen? Nope. Playroom? Nope. And then I saw the toppled laundry basket. The one that usually sits in front of the extra door to our apartment. We never use this door, it opens into our closet. Beside the basket was his little chair (the perfect height for opening a deadbolt apparently), shoved aside by a wide open (or as far as the laundry basket would allow it) door. Shit.

As I screeched around the corner of the stairs I calculated his new height and strength versus the weight of the brownstone's front doors. No way. Those are heavy doors. Then again... And as I skidded past my 2nd floor neighbor's door I realized my traction was off because... oh yeah. I was only wearing a towel and some shampoo. Great.

One more flight brought me to the empty, (but unopened) entry way to the building. Empty, except for that ... tiny scuffle. And there, around the corner, shoved into the landlord's door jam stood Phoenix. Smiling.

The optimist

To say that P's cup is half full is a laughable understatement. Its more like overflowing :) If we order his candy online he starts expecting it That Second. I can honestly answer his delivery queries with "in about 5-7 days, P" yet he'll still say that it Could show up today. "Maybe, mama, maybe." As we head home at 3 in the afternoon he'll ask if Papa will be home when we get there. Telling him three hours still need to pass does no good. "Maybe," he says, "maybe."

Not only does he think time can bend to fulfill his wishes (and that all things are possible, really), he also basks in a good time. Like this morning, as we sat listening to Bob Marley while playing playdoh I heard him quietly say, "oh, how nice. Playdoh and music." Or last week as he climbed out of the bath and requested a little of Papa's cologne only to murmur "how nice, a bath, clean clothes, cologne..." Or yesterday, outside the health food store eating a snack he sighed, "This is lovely. Not too hot, not too cold, not too sunny. A yummy snack. Us, just chillin'. This is nice mama" Granted, five minutes later on the scoot home he threw down his scooter and exclaimed for all of the world "I'm NOT going uphill. I'll never go uphill again, mama. Never. I no want to Ever go up a hill again." (We, of course, live at the top of a hill.) The yin, the yang. The drama and sincerity of it all is pretty adorable either way. But then, I'm pretty smitten :)

Neeeeeammmm!

I was resting on the couch while I was sick. P was playing at my feet, involved in his own world, so I grabbed my book and started to read a bit. The little man stood up, fixed me a look and sat my book down. "Why you reading, mama?" Really, why read when your life is tuned into the Phoenix channel 24/7 for entertainment, was what he was really asking :) I told him I was learning about kids, so I could be a better mama. That I was learning how his brain works.

"Oh. Mama. I already know how my brain works. It goes NEEEEEAAAAAAMmm (replete with fast moving arm motion). There. Now you understand and no have to read the book anymore."

Needless to say, there was no more reading that day as it was obviously unnecessary.



P.S. I know, its been a while since we had any videos - and we're in short supply of new photos too since our camera broke, but a replacement is in the mail!

Sick, but with swords and Snow White

So, we've been passing around Another round of colds, leaving us indoors a great deal. P has been cycling through his treasures, focusing quite a bit on felt and tools. He's specifically fond of making dino-scapes. With volcanoes. And lava. We had to make more volcanoes this week because the dinosaurs were, apparently, not endangered enough :) If felt isn't spread all over the floor then E's tools are. They are busy ripping apart foam, tearing apart food, cutting wires, mauling play-doh, or... chasing the cat. Eek. He's so much more reasonable on the subject these days, but a stir crazy three year old is a stir crazy three year old any way you cut the mustard.

We've also enjoyed our Snow White record a few hundred times. It stars Doris Day and is a good laugh for any adult - and some serious storytelling for P. He uses his Snow White characters Grams got him at Disney World for adventures while he sits on his little potty (for what seems like days at a time -he sits down to do his business and gets so into a story line he's gonna end up with a rash!) I found Snow White clinging to Prince Charming as they dangled off of a cabinet the other day - I've been meaning to ask E if this was his doing or P's. I'll try to remember to update - because this would be the first inkling of understanding romantic inclinations on P's part....

We also made felt swords. I was really tired of getting whacked with the broomstick and knife sharpener, so we cut some foam and sewed some handles. P was remarkably patient (seamstress I am Not) and has brandished it every day since. Of course, I had to make a second one for me (how else could he fence?) and now he has requested a dagger for Papa :) He's excited for us all to be well and scoot again - he's planning a headband as a sword belt so he can scoot And have his sword. Oy.

I just asked E - it was him who staged the smooch. P's innocence remains firm. :) Well, unless he keeps playing with his Papa I guess!

Got Milk?

The only bottle that ever interested Phoenix held beer. (Note: No babies were intoxicated in the making of the above picture.) We tried it a few times - E thought it would be nice to feed P - but it always ended in a hungry and pissed baby. Grandpapa worked it a couple of times and then P refused there too. Beth dubbed P a hopeless 'boob boy' and we just went with his strong willed preference :)

I realized this week that the subject of nursing is noticeably absent from P's blog. A Starbucks employee asked an acquaintance to move her nursling to the bathroom this week (both illegal and ridiculous). This has inspired me to stop skating the subject here, after all, its rather silly that a blog devoted to Phoenix is absent of the word "nee-nees." I'm slightly embarrassed that I've been embarrassed to include his many adorable nursing stories from his online journal for fear of surprising readers (all three of you). Hopefully this post will remedy that, and then some :)

Until my best friend gave birth 5 years ago, I knew next to nothing about nursing. Sure, somebody somewhere was doing it, but not in front of me! I think I'd heard of it, like, twice :) Once was from said best friend, back when we were kids. Her neighbor was still nursing a five year old and she explained to me, in no uncertain terms, that this was Very Weird. The other time I was waiting on line for fast food with some of my mom's friends. Their shocked whispers had me tromping to the front of the line, looking for the source of such ridicule. From my short stature I could only make out a mama cuddling her baby, so the mystification continued. Years later, as I would slink off to restaurant bathrooms to feed my bottle-hating, hungry baby, I would think of these clucking hens (who I do adore) and their judgements. And as my kid ate his meal amongst the smell of cleansers and shit while my solid food eating companions sat at a clean table chatting, I grew indignant. This subject finds me atop my highest horse, so think of bailing on this post if your hackles feel sensitive :) I

I like to research. Ok, love to research. I did so about parenting, not to diss my parents, but because I Had to. There was no Earth Mother agenda, truly :) I read stuff on the pros and cons of scheduled feeding, spanking, positive discipline, tribal cultures, circumcision, natural labor, epidurals, attachment parenting.... you get the idea. And I was amazed at how much bullshit gets published - so many books with inaccurate and misleading data. After weeding the shoddy stuff out I went from shopping for formulas to being a breastfeeding advocate. I had scientific research and evolution on my side :)

Unfortunately, most of society isn't. One reason I'd never seen a nursing mom until Beth became one was said society. Puritanical leanings and playboy provocations aside (my all time favorite quote on the subject : If breastfeeding in public is sexual, bottlefeeding must be like whipping out a dildo!), many moms head back to work at 6 weeks. And that's usually that for nursing, assuming they had a support system to even get started! Nurses in the hospital push formula rather than helping in those first few difficult days. Having never seen sisters or aunts nurse their young, its easy to give up rather than hide under blankets and slink off to corners. Not to mention the shocked stares from grandmothers in restaurants or inappropriate comments from men on playgrounds. It is a little more in vogue now than the seventies, but only for the first few months. Too long after that and its usually, well, Very Weird :) And a nursing five year old? Well, forgettaboutit.

But its not so bad in Brooklyn. P has 6 other friends, his age or older, still nursing. A little peer support mixed with experience and I now really regret my apprehension about nursing in public when he was a baby. I remember when he wiped sand into his eyes at a playground when he was about 8 months old. He was so distraught and wanted to nurse but I waited until we were hidden in the car. Heaven forbid I make some stranger uncomfortable! Better to let the baby cry... If I had a do-over, I'd pop it out without a second thought :)

At three and a half we don't need to nurse in public anymore, but its dubious territory again nevertheless. Friends teased me when P was a newborn (I mentioned 'child led weaning') that they would stage an intervention at three :) Family have tentatively quizzed me on our quitting date. Recently, I've tentatively quizzed P :) His not so tentative reply was "Never!!!" So here's the low down, for anyone too timid to satiate their curiosity. Yes, he's still nursing. No, its not weird. Yes, it gets old sometimes. No, he has no idea the rest of the world isn't this way. Yes, he thinks the rest of the world Should be this way. No, he doesn't think twice about mentioning it in front of you. Yes, I worry this makes you uncomfortable. Yes, he likes it more than chocolate milk, but nice suggestion.

These days my worry is no longer based in My insecurities, my fear someone will say something upsetting to me (bring it!). I worry about someone saying something to him. Their societal confusion confusing him. He's so sensitive to judgement, it would be a shame for someone to introduce shame to him about something so human, if rare, in our prejudiced-pundit led U.S. population. I guess I just don't understand why it offends people so much and I hope they don't offend him. After all, he really will prefer that beer someday :)

Squid Stew

After running a fever for a few days and feeling all around crummy, P decided to peel off his p.j's and take a tub. Thank gawd :) He doesn't bath that often, but when he does he Really soaks. He made squid and frog stew from his squishy animals this time, greatly enjoying snipping the squishy stuff with his scissors while soaking. When he was completely pruney he took his stew base to his kitchen and added lots of wooden vegetables and butter. Its funny, when he spends his toy money he is inevitably lured by the brightest, loudest car gimmick in the store. Yet at home he constantly plays with his kitchen, play-doh, flour, sword, castle and monsters and usually leaves the junk in the drawers... except to cut it up :) Ahhh.. commercialism and advertising...

Pirate Monsters

P was under the weather all weekend (104 fever on Sunday -poor kid!) On Saturday he was just suspiciously slow moving, so we stayed around the house for some spring cleaning. He spied an umbrella and hatched a pirate plan. But then he thought Baby Brother needed a boat and Bat Mac too.... Soon he had commandeered all of the umbrellas we own (he surprised me with a memorized, itemized list). We couldn't find one umbrella so there was a spare monster, much to his dismay. Then Hororay decided he was sea sick, so the rest settled in to sail around the sharks...

Pirate Stories

Phoenix eschews books at bedtime in lieu of personal drama so E tells P a story almost every night. They remind me of the choose your own adventure books in the 80's as P picks the plot and then twists it to suit his needs. Last week we visited the Transit Museum with P's buddy, Benny, and his mama, Jo. The boys had a good time until the fun police (aka overzealous and bored security guard - more on that another time) killed P's joy. Fortunately, our fun could easily be moved to Dumbo for a little park time. The playground there takes a pirate ship shape and Benny and P had a great time going up (to other mother's chagrin) and down the slides and swinging on the tire swing. So that night P sat aside his previous plot and placed himself, Benny, Mama, Papa and Baby Brother on a pirate ship. (E tried to tell P a story once that left us at home and P said "That's illegal. Kids have to be with them mamas or papas or nannys." :) Six days later and Pirates Benny and Phoenix are still the stars every night. Last night I heard P adding to the story:

E: So Phoenix and Benny quickly climbed up the ladder of their ship and "
P: and the shark climbed up too!
E: hahaha. Sharks can't climb up ladders.
P: Sure them do. The shark climbed up the ladder.
E: How does a shark climb up a ladder? They don't have hands...
P: They use their fins!
E: Oh, of course. So the shark climbed up the ladder with his fins....

The picture. ( I'd love to have a pic of P and Benny at play, but lugging our old, slow-to-focus 80 lb camera around doesn't thrill me so we only have slow-moving home shots for a while :) And no, I didn't dress the child! P has always been very particular in his clothing choices. So much so that some have suggested sensory integration issues. Nah, he just likes it the way he likes it :) Soft was the previous prerequisite. Then the pictures became important too (sea life and vehicles) and now the entire outfit is often important. Some mornings he slides on anything soft, others he has very, um, creative ideas as to dressing. Its an interesting process to watch... He's also started creatively combining foods. And I don't mean eating a casserole - that's never been a problem - tho he does like simple foods too. I mean, stacking dried corn on chocolate chip cookies for a snack. Dipping his cheesy noodles in ketchup. Then in his vanilla shake (surprisingly yummy). The experiments with success rates are repeated - he now systematically adds the dried corn to his cookies...

The things they say....

Hearing what pops out of P's mouth/head is fabulously fascinating (to me that is, I think waiters, friends etc. find his ramblings slightly less, um, necessary :)) For example, yesterday morning I was beckoned with "Mama, come look! My poop looks like giant asparagus!" And it did.

Then yesterday, after a long afternoon out with friends we were making our way home. His buddy got a huge pretzel from the park vendor and then P wanted one. Because we don't live in suburbia, but daily pass street vendor after store after street vendor in NY, we finally had to decide on a "one treat per outing" limit (except for the grocery store, our bag's the limit there). We Hate limits. They feel, well, limiting :) And they are like a big stop sign for connectedness, but our budget demands Some attention so... We leave the house and P can pick his one fancy from whatever store and all is well. Usually this is a smooth subject. Occasionally there's a little disappointment followed by P reasoning, "Next time!"

But yesterday, it was dinnertime, he was hungry And tired. Silly mommy reminded him he'd already chosen his treat for the day and offered it or any other snack from our bag instead.

Whoops. Massive miscalculation. Beyond Yoav happily chomping on His pretzel, P'd been challenged a Lot at the playground and was less resilient than usual. And did I mention he was tired? Instead of graceful acceptance, or minor disappointment, things went the way of pummel mama and fall apart. It was a sad scene and I validated and hugged and we eventually moved on. Or so I thought. But as we walked the last block home P said "If I kill you guys, I can do whatever I want."

Ouch. I'm sure more experienced parents than I could just nod at this and carry on, but this was the first time P has Ever said anything "mean" to me. And I think I could have easily managed our first foray into verbal anger had it been "I don't like you." But to totally do away with me? Wow. Instead of affirmation of his feelings he received a silent, nauseous mama. I didn't want to shame him for his inability to "properly" reason through his frustration - and I knew I didn't have anything productive to say ;) so I just concentrated on (holding my tears in my eyes and) carrying him, his bike, my scooter and his bag of stuff to the stoop. Then I thought a little humor might help so I turned to him and asked "Really P? Which would you rather have, me or a pretzel?" Big smile from me, the answer so obvious. I can hear my mother cackling. That's right. The three year old chose the pretzel without a moment's hesitation. When he asked me to carry him up the stairs I felt like the three year old - it was All I could do not to suggest his pretzel carry him...

Yah, I guess neither of us were feeling very resilient :) As I started dinner I did the regular routine of offering P objects that would go into the dinner. "Tomato? Olives? Cheese? P?" Instead of teasing me back with his usual response "I'm going to eat ALL of it!" he said "That ok Mama. You guys eat first, I'll just have whatever's left-over." If killing me off didn't break my heart all the way, this finished the job :) Nothing like a three year old trying to make amends the only way he can fathom.

Only time will tell if he was just "off" yesterday, or if he really isn't feeling like his needs are honored enough on a daily basis. I'll be doing an autonomy check around here and hope that any improvements we can manage will keep me alive :)

The Tribeca Film Festival

We went to this Film Festival kid's fair last year and had an amazing time. There was the most fabulous marionette show that positively Entranced P (and me!). Musicians performing on each block, stilt walkers, sandcastle builders, chalk painters, kite flyers, a kid extravaganza. This year we headed back for more fun, planning to join Uncle Seth at the festivities. But P wanted Nothing to do with it. Nothing. We walked a block of the fair to meet Seth, thinking P'd have a change of heart once Seth was on the scene, but no, he was Definitely not interested.

Fortunately, there's a great park nearby and a bike path, perfect for scooting, that leads there. Off we went, skateboarding and scooting to the Hudson. We paused and watched the water move and then went to the sculpture garden to play. P Loves this plaza, full of whimsical bronzes by Tom Otterness, chess boards with weird looking creatures (Seth said cat, P said sea creature) and bronze dogs chained to the drinking fountain. P wandered around chatting to himself, enjoying the details for a while and then bam! It was Seth time. They climbed, they jumped, they sat at the chess board. P was in heaven having his best buddy around for a such a good time.

After a while we scooted on to the playground and enjoyed the trampoline. (P's been permitting playgrounds quite a bit more lately, just in time for spring!) Seth and E played monster while P and I ran on the equipment. The path that winds from the playground, along the water, presented us with an enormous barge that P devoured with his eyes. He had a million questions and really enjoyed just Looking. Then E spotted some sort of monument (P's scooter was moving too fast for me to read) that had a twisting, turning, tunnel filled climb up to an overlook that was Gorgeous. Grasses were blowing in the wind and the water was laid out below framing... Leonardo Di Caprio :) We're fabulously big geeks and get a huge kick out of star sightings :)

Then as we zoomed to the southern tip of the city to catch our sub we wound up in some garden with a hedge maze. Phoenix's fascination with Labyrinths and Minotaurs positively feasted on this experience. E and Seth sweetly took him back through it, P grinning like a wildman. Afterwards, we followed the trails to the sub, to dinner, to gelato, to home. It was one of those perfect days that just Flow.

Children's Museum Of Manhattan

So I promised a video a couple of weeks ago.... There's (supposedly) one on youtube now. The video quality is poor, but I'm not sure how to upload it with better numbers, and E is in bed :) At any rate, it was a little long for blogger so we'll see how youtube works for you (mom) :) Here's the link: You Tube Video

Park Days

There's a solid group of homeschoolers here in Brooklyn and many meet in the park on Thursdays to play. P gets to play with his buddy Benny (and Milo and his brothers came once too!) while climbing trees and throwing leaves. Its a good time. Benny's mom was sweet enough to send us some photos since our camera is under the weather.

The Philosopher

P tends to hang out with me when I cook or do dishes (which seems to fill about a third of the day). About once a day he'll wander the playroom instead, entranced in his imaginary world, but usually he prefers to interact. If we are baking, his interactions are baking based. He Loves to pour ingredients, use the mixer, the whisk, the spatula, stir, measure, check muffins with a toothpick. (This week alone he has made home made caramels, orange bran muffins, beer pizza dough and multi-grain pancakes.) Of late, knives hold a particular place in his heart so he happily helps chop now too. He slices, fries and seasons his own mushrooms (a favorite of his) and assists with the veggies on most every meal. The floor space under his ladder holds the daily proof of his help, hopefully his fingertips won't :)

But washing dishes isn't his thing. So he chats. It seems to be his time to bring up issues he's been chewing on for a while. Like yesterday:

P: What happens when you get off of the earth, mama?
Me: You mean outer space?
P: Um, no? When you get off the earth?
Me: You mean, like climb a tree, your feet are off of the earth? Or do you mean, fly in a plane, so you are off of the ground or earth?
P: No, mama. (he smiled at me like I was a moron) That still the earth. When you go up, and then you off the earth.
Me: Ok. Well, you go up off the earth and reach the clouds, and then you go farther and you are still in the earth's atmosphere, but then you go farther and you're in outer space, or the milky way, or the universe, or whatever you want to call it.
P: Oh, Ok.

Then, about 30 minutes later:
P: When you go up, up, up and off of the earth, its dark. Why mama?
Me: When you are in outer space?
P: Yes. Why it dark in outer space? The suns up there.

I have no idea how he knows its dark in outer space (the night sky?). Or how he reasoned that it shouldn't be, due to the sun. Last week his breakfast questions brought on a discussion of the planets, the sun, orbit, night/day, and the seasons (aided by an orange, a tomato, a grape tomato and soapy dish hands), but this still seemed like quite a leap. At any rate, this week's question introduced cloud cover and reflection...

Then today P was trying to get his lineage down, again. He was listing how he came from my belly and I came from Grams' belly and Grams came from Great Grams' belly. I was nodding along when he suddenly stopped and asked
P: Mama! How we all get here when there was no mama?

P was pretty blown away by his thought. He was having trouble wrapping his mind around a baby, without a mama. But you have to have a baby to grow into a mama to have a mama to have a baby! I was pretty blown away that he had discovered a chicken/egg scenario that I didn't question until, oh, never. So another evolution discussion ensued. When we got down to the nitty gritty of evolving from germs he was thrilled. But, he wanted to know, where did the germ come from? And he had us there. Pleased nonetheless, he summed up his history of the world as gleamed from the AMNH, mixed with his new knowledge...
P: A long time ago, there were mammoths and sloths and tigers. And a long, long, loooong time ago, there no people, but dinosaurs! And the T-rex... hehe! The T-rex could catch some germs!

Alright, so not quite Kant....

ABC, one, two thwee

Last summer P got a new digger for the sandbox. As we strolled away from the toy store he pointed to the side, at the letters, and read the word "CAT." I chuckled that my two year old's first sight reading was the name of his favorite tractor brand, but knew we were a long way from Really reading. He did some other sight words on signs and such, but letters really held no interest for him at the time. Read? Nah. that's what mama's are for.

Well, the times are a changin'. P's interest in letters has been curiously piqued lately, but he adamantly avoids any type of obvious explanations. Its a solo expedition for him and he's not interested in a copilot. Occasionally, after making a letter with his necklace chain (a common way of "drawing" for him) he'll say "Mama, look, an M" but I'm otherwise not included. He also started singing the ABC's over and over last month. We were out one day and Another stranger asked him if he was off to school next year. Not P's favorite question :) He told her he didn't have to go, he already knew his letters. Then I had my idiot-mom Aha moment. He had recently asked why kids go to school and I kept my response simple "To learn things, like the alphabet or how to read." Apparently, P translated this so that learning the alphabet skipped him straight to graduation, thus no need for him to Ever go to school, so he took it upon himself to learn the ABC's. But his formidable independence combined with his inherent distaste for being quizzed (something I've blogged about before) leaves me in the dark on his current spelling status. Does he really know his letters? We read a Lot, he has a letter puzzle he enjoys and last month when I was sick he watched a Letter Factory video with great enthusiasm...

And then we were at the store last week (mailing our poor camera to the factory) and he pointed and asked "Mama, why that clock say UPS?" Ahh-hah! So he does know some letters...

Then we went to the library. P grabbed a counting book with sharks on the cover (shark lover that he is). Books with even the slightest schooly scent always seemed to irritate him in the past, but not so this time. He happily sat and counted everything in it, correctly, and without my input. Kinda like the reading, he could list his numbers last summer, but it wasn't really counting, just memorization. But just through living, no quizzing, no exaggerated examples, no lessons, he's figured out how to actually count.

And then I realized he's doing simple math too. The other day, he took one of our three remaining cookies and wandered into the playroom while I washed the dishes. I decided a cookie would make the dishes more enjoyable :) so I ate one too. Later, we were leaving and he wanted a cookie for the walk but was surprised to find only one cookie in the jar. "Mama," he said to me, "when I took a cookie there was three. Now there only one. You eat the other cookie?" Its such amazingly simple math that I hadn't even thought of it as such, but really, there it is, subtraction through living. And Important subtraction too - you Gotta know where your cookies go :)

Picture Problem

We've had some lovely playdates and outings lately, but our camera mysteriously died so I have no pictorial proof. I generally blog by photos, so I'm having a hard time remembering what we've been up to! So other than a couple of old posts I need to finish up with new pics, I'm going to link old pics to anything new (just for you mom!) Hopefully someone in Illinois is feverishly working on a much loved camera right this minute ...

Scooters and Suck it, Alfie Kohn

A friend of a friend, a poetess, in an attempt to funnel her creativity, post child, has developed the "momku." She's got some great one's here: http://twitter.com/momku -but this one really had me rolling on the floor:

Potty training broke / Me. Bribing with jelly beans / Suck it, Alfie Kohn

First off, I love the momku idea. I don't know how it is for someone who does, say, real estate, and then becomes a stay-at-home-mom, but us artists types seem to have a hard time laying our passions totally aside. Some superstars write a couple of novels while homeschooling their progeny, others of us make cloth castles, blogs or momkus.... But its gotta go somewhere. Do ex-real-estaters feel compelled to drive around looking at properties? Does everybody jones for what they did in their past life?

But I seriously digress. Alfie Kohn. So in following the rabbit hole to unschooling, Alfie Kohn was a bright neon sign, pointing us towards societal strangeness. His book, Unconditional Parenting, is just Beyond. (Here's a great little article that sums up some of his studies: http://www.alfiekohn.org/parenting/gj.htm) In a nutshell, he talks about kids doing things for innate reasons rather than getting a "good job" or a piece of candy. Pooping on the potty for the sake of not sitting in shit, rather than for sucking on the skittle. He backs up his points with well formed studies that would sway a Puritan. Of course, at the end of the book you are left without punishments, bribery, or manipulations, however nice they seem. In a no man's land of cluelessness, really. You staunchly believe you should reside in this territory, but you are scared shitless your kid will make serious mayhem without some sort of "approach." Fortunately, Naomi Aldort picked up nicely where Mr. Kohn left off. The thought of actually connecting with your child, respecting that short person's point of view as much as you wish he would respect yours, fills in nicely for the time-outs and naughty rugs. But I digress, again...

So, along with not knowing what a "time-out" even is, P also hadn't heard any "good jobs" from us. When he is pleased with himself he generally says nothing, "see that?" or "I did it!" E and I have spent a lot of inner work killing the "you're so amazing, oh my god i'm so proud of you good job you're the smartest/fastest/cutest" out of us. This of course doesn't mean we aren't thinking it :) we're just attempting to not screw him up with these externalized parental proclamations, lest he forget his destiny is decided by himself rather than the 2 judgmental, smiling morons with lollies. And then the scooter came into our lives.

He's fast. Very fast. People routinely ask how old he is and comment on his agility (perhaps because they compare him to me...) We were flying downhill today over root-riddled sidewalk and I saw a veritable obstacle course in front of us. It was a new path for us and I was cursing the absence of his helmet as he dodged, glided and jumped over the deathtrap. There was no hesitation, no braking, no falling. Not to say he won't bite it again tomorrow, but I'm finding those moments really difficult to keep quiet about. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to need commentary, he sliced through the bumps and kept going without any need for affirmation.

But when his speed, need for independence and traffic converge, silent smiles sometimes don't cut it. When he skirts a crowd and skids to a stop at a busy corner I find the words "well done, thank you" popping out of my mouth. I know kids do it everywhere, everyday, he's no skateboarding prodigy by an means, but as I teeter behind him I'm still impressed he doesn't land in front of a truck. Less used to P's scooter escapades, Ethan is often nervous around traffic. Lately this leads to a number of "good jobs" as E thanks the stars P isn't a pancake. We honestly don't mean to, the adrenaline seems to shoot the stuff straight out our mouths.

And then P repeats us. As I finished a troublesome toy fix the other day P rewarded me with a "well done, mama." E has been blessed by a couple of "good job, papa"'s of late too. I gotta say, its interesting being patted on the head by a three year old. And I find it fascinating that he is actually matching the reward to the right parent. And that he's repeating the stuff after only hearing it a handful of times.

Fortunately, as the scooter becomes a third leg for P, E and I are again taming our tongues. Because really, at the end of the day I'd like him to stop at the corner because he wants to stay alive, not because he's afraid of getting in trouble, losing a lolly or missing a "good job!"




After I blogged about how easy it was to get out of the house lately we didn't leave the house for daaaaays. Mental note from the Universe: accept all as good, stop being so pleased when things go your way, all is well, all is well, all is well. Ok, got it. Nevertheless, can this blog Please not result in P being a pancake? Ugh. Independence and safety collide and it Sucks.