Beach Babe

I'm guessing all children love the beach. A sand pit and paddling pool in one perfect package. We headed to Lido Beach this morning, just us and a carload of crap :) In NY we can bring whatever fits in my knapsack - which ain't much. Here, the car's the limit...

It was foggy and cool when we arrived, which made for wonderfully comfortable sand play. P's new buddy down here loaned us a digger and dumptruck, solid suburban sizes both :) His mother had bragged that they occupied her three year old for an entire beach afternoon while she read and rested and she insisted we bring them along for a pleasant beach experience. So sweet - and I admit to High hopes. Ah, well. There are many types of children in the world and mine is apparently highly interactive :)

After burying BB and deciding the large waves were too chilly yet for a swim, we took to castle building. The one thing we had forgotten was a little shovel, and the digger didn't really dig, so we exfoliated our hands and feet on the course sand and dug a couple of moats. It was great fun watching them fill with water and using the dump truck to move sand from one castle to another.

When we water played at Coney Island last October P was still small enough to need my hand to keep from toppling under. When I told him he was probably ok this time he was eager, yet edgy. He'd run, pell mell, towards the waves, his little jaw set in concentration. If a big one surprised him he'd growl at it. It was hilarious to watch him work so hard while trying to act so nonchalant. The day warmed and the beach started to fill. An older boy was doing tricks on a boogie board nearby while 5 and 6 year olds jumped into the waves and swam. P would study them and then rush the waves with a determined look - only to steer to the side as the big ones hit. Despite his inability to dive under he was pretty pleased with himself all day. He'd run back to me with an aloof "you saw that?" Then he wanted BB to say only big kids can do that (run in the waves) :)

Once it was warm I suggested we swim a bit. He loved the idea of going "way out like the big kids" so we tramped through the large waves. P quickly got a face-full of seawater when a wave washed right over him, but after lots of coughing and spitting he wanted to go back - without "dunking." I carried him out after swearing on graves that I would look out for him... only to be knocked down by a wave myself. (Really, they were kinda big!) However, I managed to raise him high when I fell, keeping his face dry. On my knees in the ocean I stupidly turned to him with a look of "see! I'll protect you!" Gazing at my son I forgot all about the oncoming wave and my knee-bent, short stature. Bam! We both got doused. As I laughed and sputtered P turned his sun weary eyes to me and said (after he finished coughing) "I want to go to Gramps' pool."

Ahh, well. It had been 4 hours, so home we went. After loading the car for an hour we were ready to go :) Two minutes from the beach P asked where BB was. Whoops, I had loaded him in the back. We chatted about it and P seemed ok with seeing BB at home, they could talk through the seat. Then I heard P saying "Baby Brother, I'm so, so, So sorry mama forgot you in the back." He was quiet for a minute. Then he said "Mama! I know! You can pull into a parking lot and get out and get Baby Brother and then get back in traffic?" Needless to say, BB road shotgun on the way home.

True to his word, P jumped out of the car and headed for the pool. Being a red head from the winter north, I was a virtual lobster by the time we got to the pool (yes, despite a couple doses of #30) which really helped P understand the importance of sunscreen. Reticent on the issue all day, he eagerly helped me reapply both of us and fake applied cream to BB. We had managed to keep the stuffed doll free of seawater (except for his fingertips - P Insisted we let him Touch the ocean) but apparently he has been relabeled as a pool toy, so in he went. P's confidence had grown again and he swam without my hand the whole time. I had to Greatly encourage our exit 2 hours later. After we showered and had dinner P reiterated his preference for more pool time. Sadly, I was done with water for the day. Thankfully, there is a gate to the pool, because P really disagreed with me. Fortunately, the gate is too high and slippery, even for a very determined child.

It was a long day and I figured he'd zonk Fast tonight. But as he nursed to sleep his brain just kept churning. He'd pause to ask "where do dinosaur muscles go? when we find the skeleton?" Or, "Is Danda a mama kitty?" He wasn't stalling because short answers satisfied him and he'd lay back down. He was just still curious about stuff. Tonight I decided my Xmas list: the endurance of a three year old.

Superboy to the rescue

P has taken to calling himself Superboy occasionally. His reluctance to be someone other than Phoenix ("it is Me, Phoenix!!!) is transitioning to longer bouts of sea monsters and superboys. Usually he runs, very fast, and jumps, very high ;) His additional trick is to rescue Baby Brother. A comical story line since he's never seen an actual comic book or super-hero show. Wild guess: he's gonna like that stuff. Below he stages BB's shipwreck and dogpattles to the rescue. He's so proud of himself too. Amidst the "on your mark, get set, go" you can hear him say "Baby Brother, look, I'm just swimming."

Mr. Fish

P seems to be settling in and enjoying himself. We watched Gramps play polo yesterday while we simultaneously played diggers with the little boy from two barns down. Then I took a lovely break while he and my mom played trucks together. When I returned he said "Mama. I have to tell you something. I have Funfunfun with Grams!!!" We ran through the rain and then bought more mushroom quiche at Whole Foods for the egg and mushroom addict. On the way home he pretended Grams was a cab driver who had kidnapped us. Baby Brother screamed at passing cars for help and repeatedly freaked when the cab driver turned on the windshield wipers, all amid sadistic giggles. Oh the drama.

We did some shopping this morning for the infamous "James" train he's had on his list and summer stuff. He consistently picks out bright, flowery dresses for me, or pink flip flops. Guess he's tired of cargo pants and brown shirts:) When we got home Gramps informed us the pool was warm and P didn't waste a second putting on his suit. He hasn't swam since last August but surprisingly acclimated in about 2 seconds (what problem transitioning?). Sucking down water really upset him last summer, but today he'd just spit and swim, occasionally wiping boogers on my arm. We started out keeping BB dry, just a voyeur, but that also lasted about 2 seconds. P couldn't stand the idea of missing a rescue mission (or was it the drowning BB part?). So he decided BB could stay dry on the boogie board. After about 2 rescues P chucked him into the pool saying he would dry:) That poor doll.

We paddled around for 2 hours. When he tired of tossing BB's body halfway across the pool he became a sea monster hunting BB. He captured him and swam him to our cave. Baby Brother's pathetically soaked carcass made a waterfall down our rocky cave and P drank the salty runoff as a sea creature would. Eventually, (he is part Schultz) he was determined to "surf" and demanded his little body balance, standing, on the boogie board. Mission accomplished, he had me pull him to once again rescue BB. Then he took out his shark and chased Baby Brother, BB's scared screams making P's day. Then he tried to hold BB under water to drown him, pushing him under with his legs, sitting on him. Much to his dismay, BB really, truly floats ;) Despite all of his brutish behavior towards Baby Brother, he kept tabs on the monster's whereabouts. When BB rounded the pool corner without Phoenix's knowledge P glanced around and frantically screamed "where's Baby Brother?!" But as soon as he pegged BB's location he was back to his previous thought. Its an interesting mix of extreme attachment and "oh, we can just play with something else if he dies."

P did a lot of jumping into the water too, fully submerging himself occasionally. He came up choking and sputtering and... laughing. A much more daring approach in the pool than last summer. I suggested losing the floaties, but he wasn't feeling quite That daring. Maybe tomorrow...

The Pool

P's warmth filled days have been tainted by his grumpiness. Transitions are notoriously difficult for him and New York to Florida is a pretty big transition. "I'm Grumpy!!!" he growled to me numerous times yesterday while barking commands and snarling preferences. I woke up this morning determined to smother him in love and acceptance and by afternoon he was finally finding a little balance and seemed less surly.

He also found the pool. P Loveslovesloves water (despite his reticence to bath). The heater hadn't quite kicked in (I declined the invite to dive in) but P greatly enjoyed splashing about the "sun shelf" (a brilliantly devised 6 inch deep section.) Then he accidentally dropped Baby Brother in the pool. His initial look of horror almost instantly turned to twisted satisfaction as he mock screamed for me to Saaaave Baby Brother! Thus our afternoon was set. BB was repeatedly tossed into the deep end (amidst his screams of dissent) so Phoenix could shriek about alligators and drownings. Then we'd rush to BB's rescue, only to immediately toss him in again. Thank gawd the thing floats. And is color fast. And is apparently well stitched.

He eventually ended up with chattery teeth and rushed to a warm bath (with BB). He lovingly poured warm water over BB, asking him if it felt nice and warm. Then he filled a floating box up and sang Happy Birthday to BB. Possibly making amends? If so, his guilt ended quickly. He chuckled with gusto as he put on a mask and bee balls to scare Baby Brother out of his monster suit. Well stitched, important. Not actually human, essential.

Warmth

As we drove to my folk's house from the airport P announced that he was happy. "You happy we in Florida mom?" He claimed it was the warmth that had him jazzed, and then asked 8 million times when he would see grams :) My poor parents will have no rest for the next week, he constantly keeps track of their location and what occupies them, additionally occupying them with his many questions.

When he isn't busy keeping tabs on his grandparents he is outside, enjoying his favorite thing in the world: the absence of cold. Granted, he has a few restrictions. His infamous nose precludes anything that is upwind from a barn (a difficult limit to set on a horse ranch). "I no like the smell of barn!" he screeches and simultaneously scrunches up his nose like it will fall off. He doesn't like the sun in his eyes. "I No LIke The Sun!!" he screams as he grabs his baseball cap to protect his eyes and searches out the shade. The wind gets a personal dissing "No Blow!" he shouts as he brushes his hair from his eyes and points his finger at the sky.

What does Mr. Sensitive like? He does like riding, Fast, in the back of Gramps' gator in search of sand (he was devastated (see above) the local playground had mulch rather than sand - he hid his red rimmed eyes and asked Baby Brother "you disappointed baby brother? I no disappointed.") He very much likes the semi trucks hauling sand. Another recent fave is starting conversations. Generally, by asking anyone and everyone their name. "What your name?!!" he screams as we whiz past polo players or semi drivers. He yelled to a guy fishing "What your name?" (Insert confused response from stranger) "Why you fishing?" (Insert misunderstood "Yah, I'm fishing.) "Please no eat the fish!! Why you eat fish?!" (Insert relief on my part that the gator motor droned out the 3 year old's plea for world fairness.)

The grandparents sweetly hauled his Vespa south for his visit and he was stoked to ride it in the warmth (but Not the sun.) Innocent enjoyment ended quickly. He soon began gaily flinging Baby Brother from the seat so he could gun him down. "That hurt?!" As he carefully maneuvered his wheels over his "best friend" I tried to grasp the gap between his recent benevolence towards random fish and his tire marks on BB's face.

I get it. Being a kid is rough. Everything is the wrong height and size. Most people don't take you seriously when you take Everything seriously. And there are so many hidden rules you are constantly, and accidentally, breaking. Pent up aggression is a bitch for anyone. But sheesh, somedays I find myself feeling bad for a stuffed monster.

Living with a 3 year old

One of the best things about living with a three year old is constantly seeing the world anew (running through a dust cloud or a puddle is experiencing perfection - how cool is that?). Also cool is being the center of said shiny world. God himself could tell Phoenix that squirrels have sharp teeth and P would merely turn to me and say, "Squirrels have sharp teeth, mama?" While occasionally exhausting, especially since I know so very little, I try to enjoy every moment of his trust since he will soon think he knows much, Much more than me. My days of (pretend) omniscience are sadly limited.

Today, Phoenix told Baby Brother he isn't going to get married when he grows up (his Uncle Seth is recently engaged). He said he's going to marry Mama and Papa. Awww, center of the universe warm fuzzies. Shortly following this chat was a "world anew" announcement: "Mama! You can also use boogers as lotion!?!" My eyebrows must have let on that this was questionable information and his tone changed ever so slightly. "Mama? You can use boogers as lotion? (Then he felt a little more sure of himself, those limited days of trust rearing their head already) Really! You can! Boogers as lotion!"

P played with the camera today, most of his pictures are of Baby Brother. I snapped a couple of him hamming it up and then one of his Dr. Seuss looking castle creations that should, technically, fall instantly, but don't. We also had a fun outing to Whole Foods for some airplane snacks. Their Gorgeous candy display has P foaming at the mouth every visit. We're reading "The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe" and noticed they had real Turkish Delight for sale. P was So excited. After noshing on our treats we tried the playground next door but the kid was just too cold. Then he actually fell asleep, sitting up, on the subway home. Carrying groceries And a sleeping three year old (who had promised to walk) all the way home may not be one of the best things about living with a three year old. But the utter trust that I'll take care of him regardless of the groceries sure is :)

Playgroop and waterplay

After spending the morning in Phoenix's Dinoworld (his word) we headed to playgroop for the afternoon. It was warm enough for some ball play in the backyard followed by some legos indoors. Every time we go I'm struck by how wonderful these kids and mamas are and how lucky we are to be a part of this group. On the trip home, Phoenix enjoyed stomping in as many puddles as possible. When we reached the front door, he announced he was Not saturated and needed More puddles. We quickly stirred the crock-pot, grabbed his puddle jumpers and headed to the park. There's a lovely spot there that will Not drain, just outside the playground, our permanent puddle destination. Having just bathed Baby Brother last night, I left him at home, assuming this outing might ruin my hard work. But I miscalculated how attached P is to speaking with BB. As he happily splished and splashed he told me to make BB speak, from home. He pretended to call BB up on BB's cell phone so they could chat about his puddle :)

Once we were cold and wet, we headed home in the dark, hopefully not contracting pneumonia. P headed to the bathroom with Baby Brother while E and I ate our warm soup, . Minutes later he requested our audience, sounding quite pleased with himself. I walked in to find Baby Brother covered in foaming soap, puffy from being so water logged, and Phoenix proudly announcing he was giving BB another bath. I think we better buy a back-up Baby Brother at this rate. Something about "surface wash" doesn't rhyme with "nightly scrub."

Walking on sunshine

It was sunny and "warm" yesterday and we (okay, I) were sooo ready to get out of the house. Uncle Seth had entertained us Sunday afternoon, blessedly breaking up the monotony of a work filled weekend for Ethan. But we (okay, I) were really ready to Not crawl around on the carpet with toys. I swear, every day we stayed in, P became less able to spend 2 seconds without me as entertainment until the last few days were just 12 hour stretches of the Mama Show: starring: One Reluctant Mama. Hanging out with your adorable offspring is a dream come true, and yet, by the end of last week I had to say things to myself like "well, we don't have dengue fever," and "at least we don't live in Antarctica" to keep my spirits up.

So I announced upon awakening Monday that we were headed out of the house. Having forgotten that such a thing could be enjoyable, P insured me he was going nowhere that pajamas weren't de riguer. I enlisted back-up, slyly calling his buddy Malek to join us and chatting excitedly with Baby Brother about our plans. Pushing the stroller to the zoo, it felt a little pathetic to be so pleased about out-smarting a 3 year old, but I'd bet the silly grin had something to do with my body finally storing up Vitamin D again.

We were only up for a small outing so we had a picnic at our neighborhood zoo and played in the groundhog tunnels. Phoenix teased Baby Brother that there was a Minotaur in the tunnels/labyrinth with menacing growls that turned to shrieks of laughter when Baby Brother cowered behind me. After playing in the eggs and a brief look at the baby kangaroo (realllly cute!) the boys took to fencing with long sticks, ignoring the animals. Malek went home for a nap and P and I walked through the park to do some more sword play.

Ahh, the spawn of the 2 pacifists. I can hear my gun toting family cackling as I type. While P doesn't, technically, know what a gun is, yet, he saw the spear carrying Neanderthal at the NHM and then the huntsman in Snow White - both of which seem to have adequately enamored him with swords. Fortunately for P, I enjoy smacking sticks around while shouting "hi-yah", so we found a sunny spot and sparred. He found a shorter sword for Baby Brother and the three of us went to. Then we sat for a snack and P started pouring dirt and mulch on his fairly filthy playmate. With the damage already done, I held my tongue and he found fiendish enjoyment in stuffing mud in BB's eyes. It wasn't the first time I've noticed P's strange laughing tendencies. While I know he's a fairly happy child, he doesn't just walk around chuckling. In fact, the only time I can count on a laugh is when he's torturing Baby Brother. So at 34 I finally understand the Road Runner. Most annoying cartoon in the world, or so I thought as a child. P would Love it. He's the kid they drop the anvil for - a smushed coyote would have him rolling in the aisles. So, with each shriek of indignation from Baby Brother, P hunkered down and dug more mud, giggling merry sounds. The warm sun, the sweet sounds of laughter, the absence of plastic dinosaurs and their demands, it was really quite lovely. As long as I didn't wonder what Jeffrey Dahmer was like as a kid :)

'Nuther quote

I know this blog is all about Phoenix, but I think this quote pertains... yah?

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. The world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children."

Dwight D. Eisenhower

The Candyman Can

I had a music box that played that song when I was a kid. And I luuuuved it almost as much as I luuuuved candy. Since the poor kid is allergic to food coloring, Phoenix's candy experiments have been more limited than he'd prefer. It also sadly curbs his innate addiction to peppermint (even our homemade play doh is scented with peppermint oil). After insisting the last blasted after-dinner-mint would "be fine, fine, fine, mama" but regretting it the next day, we decided to find some alternatives. We located a lovely online company with natural candies galore and P happily picked a few treats to try. The spearmints were a flop. The heart shaped lolly was a hit, aesthetically, but only deserved a few licks. The peppermints though... wow. It was a pretty large bag and he dedicated himself to finding its bottom.

True Consensual Living with a 3 year old is often challenging, but the dining table has never been a battleground for our beliefs (well, excluding the dancing on the table, naked, during dinner bit, which we hardly notice anymore, but definitely took some redefining of dinnertime expectations to get used to :) ). Ever since he outgrew his many food allergies (only 2 left!) P's always rounded out his diet, naturally and autonomously. His peppermint ice cream binges are followed by days of hard boiled eggs, chickpeas, kiwis, cantaloupe and cooked carrots. I know this to be true and the child is, well, Growing. But each new bag of Booty brings on the same binges for us both. Skip lunch, eat Pirate's Booty. Mom internally freaks. P then resumes normal eating habits and I remember why its so important for him to listen to his own body rather than my mouth. But for some reason, maybe because we were both sick, this candy binge seemed more ominous than the occasional handful of cookies. As he sniffled and looked pathetic he popped peppermint after peppermint into his sweet little mouth. This continued all day and into the next until the bag was gone. It was the first time since his allergies left him that I've actually considered stepping in to limit a food (selfish exception: chocolate bars at bedtime!), but I couldn't find any more peace with the message this would give him than with his peppermint intake. I held my tongue trying to remember to trust P and his process of learning. As the peppermints dwindled he was hardly even sucking them, just for a couple of seconds, and then spitting them onto a plate. It was like he was driven to get through them all, but didn't want to actually Eat them all. And when they were finished, he was back to his beans, telling me how much fun the peppermints were. I'm hoping I finally learned this lesson and next month's Booty bag will be just a blip on my mommy radar.

Here a bean, there a bean...

Seems like everyone (with wee ones at least) is sick this month. We made it through the winter pretty unscathed only to start playing musical germs for all of February. P and I have been inside since last week except for a trip to his dentist yesterday.

During this hibernation period, P cycles through his toys efficiently. Animals one day, trains the next, cars the next, kitchen and shop following that. Then it was bean bin day. The day at home loomed ahead. All of the familiar toy faces had Me wishing for a new toy, or a sneezeless trip into the city. I Rarely talk on the phone. Like, once a month. The price just isn't worth it. P is frustrated by my unavailability and creates complicated situations to extract my attention. But on this particular day it seemed worth it, the penance of mess for the prize of adult interaction. Once P was peacefully settled into his bean bin I called his Aunt B (Beth) and we caught up on each other's last month. Then Devilish glee filled the air. I popped my head into the playroom to see beans hitting the ceiling above a small child enamored with the mess, the sound, the gravity, the motion, the freedom of it all. He looked at me with that waiting face, the one that says, "Shit?" And all I could do was smile. That was all he needed to go on, flinging every last bean (all 25 bags of them), well, everywhere.

Turns out, it was just what we both needed. The monotony was broken as we poured beans on each other's heads and bounced them off of the wall. Our trucks were unusually fun to race with so many boulders to bounce over. Just running and kicking them (the mess was so bloody big, why not?) every which way was intoxicating.

The next morning was a bit like a hangover though. Beans are fantastically difficult to pick up. Too small to grab, too big to vacuum, too ornery on a carpet to sweep. I had occasionally wondered the previous day if he'd want to repeat this experiment very often, but I think the two hours of cleaning will probably work as a natural deterrent. Then again, he may forget by next February...

Baby Brother takes a ride

Torture

So I was helping remove a small splinter from P's wrist today (per his request) when he giggled "Mama, you're Toooorturing me!"

Where did that word enter his vocabulary?! Then it hit me. Baby Brother.

The child couldn't have picked a more apt name for his recent side kick. He explains the world to Baby Brother, constantly corrects him, takes him Everywhere (except bed and bath), and, well, tortures him. They play nicely together (well, BB is nice), as long as I'll do BB's voice. If not, P forgets his angelic side and yells "Make Baby Bwover talk. MAMA! Make. Him. Talk!!!" Its February in Brooklyn and we need some winter diversions. P's really been missing his little tractor, so he made a racetrack on the carpet and sweetly took BB for a ride. I was a little aglow in the brotherly comaraderie until he shut BB in the bathroom door. Like a prison guard enjoying his job, he demanded "This hurts? Ahhh, This Reeary Hurts?" Yah. That's more like what I remember from brothers and my childhood :)

Friday at the Transit Museum

We met some playgroop buddies at the Transit Museum Friday. P adores these kids, despite the fact that he generally requires surgical attachment to my hand to interact with them :) A couple of other kids in his Tuesday group are on the young side too and they keep tabs on their mamas too, so I have hope this is a normal stage and I won't accompany him to college. I remember him at not yet 2, running through the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. He was a dasher back then, not to mention having perfected the idea of continuous motion. Off he trotted, into the sunset. E and I looked at each other and dove behind a tree. Occasional peeks from our hiding space showed no signs of his pace slowing (this is a fully fenced facility, for my devoted readers (all 3 of you) who may be worrying). Ethan finally raced off to keep the kid from visiting Jersey on his own. Fast forward a year and, well, at least there isn't any dangerous dashing :)

The dialogue from the below video (one devoted reader has hearing difficulties (hi mom!)):
P: Mama, get in this bus (I'm apparently past the 5 inches in social situations rule)
M: Are you driving it? (Validating distraction)
P: I'm not... Sir, what do you want? (strokes the bus) What do you want sir? (One of his favorite games on the bus, he sells ice cream out the side window.

Playgroop update

P went through a period of playgroop strike, but has been excited to go each time this month. Its such a wonderful group of kids and moms, I'm glad he's starting to feel more comfortable. Our hosts, the twins, have erected a "train station" in their living room out of an enormous, and I mean Huge, box. Their creative mother added lovely curtains to the ticket window, doors and windows and there is a plexiglass tunnel shoot that enters the roof. Its the ideal February get-a-way for the short set. So last week, it "snowed" in the train station. Billions (ok, maybe millions) of soft poms were poured through the shoot onto the laughing heads of our children. Of course, my camera was sitting at home. Suffice it to say, it was Precious. They helped pick up the poms to the common refrain of "do it again!!!" After many snowstorms we eventually placed the poms in the middle of a parachute and bounced them all over the room. (I know, the host is an Angel).

This memory alone could keep P jazzed for playgroop for months :) Leslie may be unearthing poms from her living room for about that long...

Children's Museum of Manhattan

We joined P's buddy Malek and his mama at the Children's Museum of Manhattan on Friday. This place is Amazing. P Loves the letter eating dragon. He's focused on it the last few trips, but this time he really spread his love everywhere - for Five Hours!

It was busy, as it always is, the place is unbelievably popular (Gwen Stefani's kid was in the throng). Never a big fan of leaving my side in kid infested crowds, P attached himself to my hand for about the first 4 hours and then found his independence during the last hour. (I believe this squarely fits the "hard to transition" label for 3 year olds...)

He dressed as a fireman and drove the fire truck for ages. He played shop with some other 3 year olds. The sand table was practically a spiritual experience for him because he's missed his dirt pile so much this winter. We built foam block walls and crashed them and pushed and pulled millions of knobs and dials. He found a porcupine puppet that he fell in love with. Perched on his shoulder, he chatted with it, grabbing it for the occasional hug. At one point he looked very seriously into the porcupine's eyes and declared "I'll never forget you. I'll always remember you." The visiting Greek mythology section was a highlight for P, but he was pretty disappointed Theseus and the Minotaur weren't featured. Fortunately the climbable Trojan Horse redeemed the show and he and Malek enjoyed scaling it's insides.

We stayed in the city for dinner to meet E. Tired little P happily ordered a chocolate cheesecake brownie with coconut ice cream to start. Normally a very healthy eater, he has been on an enormous ice cream kick this week (we found some peppermint gelato without food coloring last week and it was a veritable ice cream diet for a few days there). Ah well, at least he's feeding his brain...

Baby brother at the beach

P and I visited the beach and aquarium on Thursday. It was a bit chilly, but he was pretty thrilled to see the ocean again. He and baby brother romped in the sand until P's hands were frozen and he was ready to see the sharks. The "museum" was delightfully vacant of school groups and P had the front seat at each window. He quickly became captivated by the piranhas- they seemed equally drawn to P, moving to whatever side of the tank he was on. Their skin was glittery and gorgeous and P wanted an explanation. I made a silly suggestion about spilled glitter and he decided the obvious answer was bubbles from the aerator stuck to their scales when they swam through the air stream :) He waited forever to watch one of these omnivores chow on another fish, but apparently we missed their feeding time .

We did watch the feeding time for the Papa walrus and the penguins though. He chatted it up with a nice man from Egypt - who was enthralled by P's name. And he really enjoyed the education lady's chat about various fish and coral. Still no go on the sea lion performance - he's always interested initially, but something about it freaks him out every time. We read books all the way home - our usual approach to sitting still on the sub - with Phoenix relishing the death of his naps and stories of sharks and piranhas.

As a side note - today he told me that when he was dead, before he came to this life, he dreamt of lemon flavored lollies :)

99 bottles...

So Ethan sang Puff the Magic Dragon to Phoenix a couple weeks ago. And the child is obsessed. We've made play-doh Puffs, felt Puffs, talked about Puff, you can usually find me answering to the name of Puff, and of course, we've sung Puff till we're blue in the face. Top to bottom, P loves that song. Its his first song to really love other than his baby lullaby (that he still calms to almost instantly - wish he would have done that as a small babe!!) And the first kid's song he's sung. The filmed version below is a little, well, filmed :) He's self-aware and goes much slower than usual and he even tries to throw in a voice quaver at the end like his papa's vibrato :) He's currently singing it to his trains as I type and I think I've heard much more than 99 stanzas of the thing today! I need a beer...

Got giggle?

P was practicing his fake laugh this morning during breakfast. (A boy sported a hearty fake one at a marionette show last week and P's been busy appropriating it.) His guffaw got me giggling and then his laugh went real and we really got going. There's nothing like happy tears in your eyes at 7 in the morning! Or a three year old's silliness. Side note: P's teeth haven't gone the way of the Beverly Hillbillies, the mouth decor is chocolate chip pancakes (hey - they have flax seed meal and oats thrown in!). And I apologize for the Blair Witch like shake, I was chuckling too hard to hold things steady :)

Froggy: The rabble rouser.

Poor E has been MIA for a while due to work. P rarely vocalizes this absence, his sudden neediness says it all. Instead of having 10 minute blips of independent play every couple of hours he is glued to me, demanding a constant playmate. He asks when it will be Saturday. Lots of play food gets set aside for Papa, stories of Papa polar bears get pulled off of the bookshelf. Much to Phoenix's excitement, E was home this weekend and that meant it was due time for Froggy.

Froggy is a soft puppet Grandpapa gave P for his first birthday. E has this special voice for Froggy - one I cannot duplicate - that P adores. He often asks me to do Froggy when E's been working a lot and then sighs, saying "That not how Froggy sounds. That not how Papa doodit." Truth be told, even if I could do the voice, I still couldn't "Do Froggy." Froggy is like E's evil alter-ego. He steals P's toys and runs off with them only to be tackled and bitten by an angry P. He plays guessing games, always guessing incorrectly, causing complete wrath to rush from P. He basically spends his entire existence baiting and wrestling (or being abused by) Phoenix. I've been torn by these dynamics for a while - I was more the "feed the baby" kind of kid than "hang the baby like a pinata" kind of kid. But he loves rough play. And it gives him someone to rail on without anxiety, his aggression can run wild, unhampered by "Please, I take a turn?" But the real reason I've never said anything is, for whatever twisted reason, P loves it. Usually.

Yesterday, still getting over the stomach flu, P was super sensitive. Froggy was being his usual annoying self, taking P's abuse and begging for more when P had had enough. First, Phoenix requsted something sharp, preferably the carpet knife I had been working with, to use on Froggy. Shortly after being placated with the slightly safer screwdriver, he stormed out of the bedroom and announced "I Don't Like Froggy Anymore!" He usually gets mad enough at Froggy to ask me for help, but will be giggling 2 minutes later. This time he continued to storm and stomp and even yelled at E and I over various needs. "Give me Water!" "Where's my car!!!" This was veeeery out of character. While he has Constant demands, they are generally phrased in graciously angelic terms. "Mama, please I have more water?" "Mama, please help me find my yellow truck." Or even just a neutral "Where's my squishy T-rex?" or "Waaaaater." He's been sick, we gave him his space, his water, his car. Gentle attention didn't calm him. Fulfilling his needs didn't soothe him. He was, quite frankly, just out of whack. As he stormed into the playroom an hour later I told E it might be because of Froggy. Could Froggy maybe be just a little nicer? Set a little better example? Could he perhaps be less, um, devious? So Froggy apologized to P, saying he wanted to be best friends. P instantly mellowed and invited Froggy to dinner. And while he's still a bit sensitive even today, he spent the remainder of his evening talking to the bubbles in his bath and telling them how much he loved them :)

And just a note about the video. My mom mentioned she couldn't tell if P was upset at the end or not. This isn't a video from the night he was volatile - here he was begging for Froggy to smack him and laughing afterward :) It just cuts off with a weird P face - Promise!

The climber

Phoenix is a monkey. He climbs when he has extra energy. When he's curious. When he's nervous (until recently, whenever a guest came to visit he would immediately start scaling our bodies, often coming to rest on our heads). His little legs just can't help but to go vertical. He also likes free-fall. Flinging himself from great heights tops his list. Letting a chair he's sitting in tip over works too. Fighting these urges is futile and he's too short for roller coasters, so we try to find games that revolve around him going high and low but not going to the emergency room. This is his new favorite...

Monsters and Minotaurs

Capitalistic implications aside, "The Foutainhead" is so brilliant it made me shiver. To have the integrity and lack of baggage that defined the hero, that so often defines kids. But I consistently found myself wondering how wee ones could grow into adulthood so unscathed, especially with our current cultural parenting paradigm. Roark often reminded me of P, but nowhere more so than in his line "I'm only myself."

Ask P what he wants to be when he grows up and he'll give you a look of confusion and say "Phoenix!" And while some of his friends really enjoy being roaring lions or jumping frogs, P is only P, roaring or jumping. Meanwhile, I am never me. The small, original cast of his toddlerhood has been replaced with a never ending line of impersonations starring friends/family or characters from books and songs. His demands for alternate playmates start at breakfast and ends at bedtime. He misses me occasionally and says "I want Mama now." Usually just to ask me a question, verify some information a character has given him or to ask to nurse. Then its "be Tigger now. No, be Puff mama. Now be Jackie Paper." Yet after all of this, comments like "this way little bunny" aimed at my bouncing son, are met with a wry grin and a "nohhh, silly, I'm Phoenix!"

So when he decided he wanted to be a minotaur the other day I was fairly surprised. He asked me to make him some horns, hooves and scary eyes. Knowing his level of patience with excessive creativity I grabbed what was closest at hand and was shocked when he remained a minotaur for more than 2 minutes. He'd chase me and then magically turn back into Phoenix by lowering his glasses, reassuring me that he wouldn't really eat me :) Then he dressed his "baby brother," aka monster doll, as a minotaur and took the above picture. The plot then changed slightly. Where I was supposed to be scared of Phoenix the minotaur, I was now to menacingly move the Monster minotaur providing P a chance to save us with his toy pretzel stick. I've never seen a pretzel stick wielded with such fury and such natural stabbing motions. It was the first kill game we've ever played and I tried to roll with it, attempting to kill my pacifist tendencies and pretend die with gusto. Looks like "Killing monsters - why children need fantasy, super heroes and make-believe violence" by Gerard Jones will have to be my next book...

Worms!

We have missed our worms. Once you're used to composting all of your food scraps it just feels weird to throw them in the garbage. Our worms all found happy homes during our last move and we've been waiting to house more until P seemed ready to participate. Or at least not be an obstacle :) We think he's ready, so we put together worm bins last weekend and P is sooo excited for our worms to arrive. I'm curious to see if he'll be tentative or torturous with the little guys..

Big Boy

While my computer was having its innards replaced P hit some new notes.

First, he walked to the zoo. This is big for P. My mom loves to tease me about our attachment parenting - as I cook with P on my back - by saying, "Well, it worked. He's attached!" And its true - he Loves to be carried. He will accept stints in the stroller, but would much prefer to be hanging off of our bodies. But as he's passed 30 some pounds this wimpy mama has been hoping for some independent walking. So on an unusually warm and beautiful day we went hiking in the woods across the street. As we wandered more deeply into the park, lifting leaves to see slugs, piling rocks and jumping stumps P decided he wanted to go to the zoo. Great! But no stroller or mei tai.... He said he'd walk and lo and behold the child did it. From one side of the park to the other, all around the zoo and back again he walked and jumped. It felt like a page of his childhood book turned - he seemed sooo big. Especially as he jumped from rock to rock chanting "fuck, fuck, fuck." :) It was his first foray with fuck and he was really working on giving it the oomph it deserved. A back-hoe was working at the zoo and combined with the warmth and lovely walk made for a perfect Brooklyn day.

A few nights later he slept for 10 hours. Straight. Without waking once.

I feel like that needs its own paragraph it is so huge for him. He hasn't repeated it since, but he's gotten close with a some 7 or 8 hour nights. And then he dropped his nap. Just like that. He'd flirted with this for months, skipping a day here or there, but quickly reverting back to happily going to sleep after lunch. I'm pretty psyched. Going into the city for the day is easier, playdates are easier, he wakes up better rested (say, at 5:30 today...) rather than wanting to nurse and nap for hours each morning. He hasn't quite settled on a replacement schedule yet, but its getting there.

And he started taking things apart. My little brother always did this. I love making things, Cash loves taking them apart. P apparently has that gene, the "break stuff to see how it works" gene. Our house is quickly becoming filled with toys that don't quite fit together anymore amongst large piles of removed tires and car bottoms reconstructed into "skateboards." My silly notion of peaceful afternoons spent finger painting have been quickly replaced by the reality of little boy. Fuck, scratch that, I meant Big boy.

Geronimoooo!

So, its cold up here. P does not like the cold. Bad combo :) If he spends lots of time at home he gets, well, ornery. Very ornery. Not in a bad way, of course - a better word might be... curious. He's just trying to figure "something" out using the wiles of his three year old brain. But when the "water balloons on the bathroom floor" experiment (he recently learned about the basilisk lizard that runs on water and he wet the floor down to run on it) passes my comfort zone, something new helps. Helps My sanity, that is, he's perfectly content with flooded floors :)

One such diversion is "Dance Class" (his name). This is basically us thrashing about to music too loud for our neighbors. He climbs to the top of his house and flings himself off into the Sumos below, doing "fancy tricks." This can include a shnazzy jump and slide combo followed by hops to "lily pads" (aka hot pads) or jumping into balloons. Whatever the trick, our Curious George going Geronimo is helping pass the coldest days peacefully. Our neighbors may disagree!

Monkey See, monkey unscrew...

Yay!! My computer is back from the shop and humming along. Gawd I missed this thing....

So we had a couple of friends over for wine and indian food and P chilled with Pooh. It was the first time to try such an evening and the little man seemed to handle things really well. The enormous melt-down at the end of the evening (something that used to be an everyday occurrence but we haven't seen in months) told a slightly different tale but...

He seemed really engrossed in his film and his play so I was surprised the next day when he dug into the recycling bin to grab an empty bottle. He had found a cork on the cabinet and after claiming the wine opener he proceeded to practice his uncorking style. Apparently he had been paying more attention to us the night before than we realized :)

AMNH and Strewing the Arctic

I generally hear 2 worries concerning the unschooling of P. What about socialization (already addressed in a previous post and a fairly dull question since he's around all sorts of people of all ages all of the time) and how will he learn if you don't make him? Some believe children don't have an internal fire to learn, they need to be bribed or pushed into it. Sadly, it seems true that this fire can be squelched in a wide array of ways, but fortunately, also nurtured. In the unschooling community, one such igniter is dubbed "strewing." Basically, you leave new ideas or objects out to ignite their imagination and natural curiosity on a regular basis. While at 3 this doesn't even seem quite necessary for P (anyone who's spent a day with a three year old and their endless procession of "why's" can understand why this is true) we've started strewing as a matter of habit just because he (in his words) "gets a kick" out of discovering new things.

The past 2 weeks we've strewed the arctic. There are some great books out with penguin and polar bear stories. Some just feature the animals with little factual basis, but some have great info mixed in brilliantly with interesting tales and maybe even a glossary. P's learned about the northern lights, the melting polar ice caps, saving energy, the food chain, indigenous peoples, and various arctic animals. His understanding of mammal vs non-mammal has really been strengthened and he seems to be finding a little more peace with the idea that omnivores or carnivores aren't "mean," just necessary in the wild.

This was all supplemented by lots of pretend play with his little arctic animal toys (a polar bear, a narwhal, an arctic wolf, various whales, a fur seal, a walrus, penguins and puffins etc) where some ate the others, some helped one another and some gave birth and nursed. I knew the theme was resonating with him when I wore a white shirt one day and he said "your shirt looks like the arctic mama." :)

We also watched a video from national geographic about the polar bear and the walrus. The footage was amazing and P grabbed all of his local wildlife to watch with him and then act out scenes. It was a much more rewarding experience than any Pixar film that leaves him slack-jawed in awe for 90 minutes. There were so many questions that turned into plots and plans for the week following the show.

We froze small toys in ice cube trays and then let them float like icebergs in the sink. We watched them melt to see the ice turn to water and the water level (imperceptibly) rise. We danced to music like polar bears trying to break the ice looking for seals. We fished off the dock of his house with a magnet string and S hook fish to feed either his seal or me as a Neanderthal (he can't bring himself to even pretend to eat meat!)

Then we went to the Natural History Museum again, taking his cousin Sean this time, and the week's theme seemed to really bring a lot of the displays to life for him. Polar bears seem so fierce, but they can't easily take a walrus? Standing beside the two windows he could see that a walrus really is double the size of the bear, a fact he had heard but was now experiencing too. It was so fun to see him put it all together. He could often stand and absorb a display for much longer than I - I would have to remind myself to not interrupt his study with "Oh! Look at that one over there!" In fact, as I breezed past some dinosaur bones he asked me why there was a balloon in one. I had no idea what he meant until I looked for a good long while and saw a white helium balloon, floating inside a rib cage. And as I saw children hushed and rushed from exhibit to exhibit in their school groups I was so thankful that P had the time to make his discoveries and keep his fire burning bright - if I could just shut my mouth and be still :)

P.s. The top photo is his favorite "Squid and the Whale" display.

A Narwhal!

P helped me make tortillas for dinner tonight. Homemade tortillas are so yummy, but I haven't made them since P was born! We made extra dough so the kid could fulfill his flour fetish. After rolling most of them out for me he asked to keep two balls to play with. He then busied himself with shapes, stories and questions while I cooked the tortillas. Then, "Mama! Look! What's this?" Ummm, I hate these kind of questions because I never know the Right answer. Adding a level of difficulty to such a question is the fact that art-wise I've really followed the hints in the book "Young at Art." Research shows that letting children operate abstractly (artistically, at least) during their youth helps them in numerous ways. So P has never been shown a smiley face or had a paper plate made into a gawd awful turkey. And therefore he rarely copies animals into clay or faces into chalk. He just scribbles and discovers texture, form, shape etc. And his work Looks pretty abstract :) So tonight I turned to see a large, longish blob, dotted with tiny holes to achieve a polka dot look, finished with a toothpick stuck in one end. "Gee, honey, umm..." And he saved me. "A Narwhal Mama!!" And I think this was the first time his figurative art achieved its goal - it actually looked like the animal named. Then I had to chuckle that a wacky creature like a narwhal was his first figurative sculpture :)

Holiday Confusion

I think the holidays messed with P's head. We don't want P to feel "deprived" of the holiday season that so many enjoy, but we don't want to push (or be pushed into) extreme consumerism either. And neither of us are excited to lie to our child for the first time with that lie consisting of a fat man sneaking into our house in the middle of the night. But we both have such fond memories of the season and want it to be special for P too. So instead of a Christmas day free-for-all (we're not even Christian!) we spread the joy out a bit and celebrated the cold with Winter Solstice, the family on Christmas and then the new with New Year. Each holiday was represented with a gift or two for P and a mellow dinner with loved ones. But every day since Xmas P has asked upon awakening "What day is it today?" Monday. "There a present today?"

God bless the kid, he's an optimist. He's still asking daily, 2 weeks later, if it could, please, possibly be another holiday. Today I tried to describe the calender and tell him that the holidays for the rest of the year are pretty spread out and there aren't too many of them. He had one good question to that ridiculous idea: "Why?"

He was also confused with the concept of having to wait for a present. His gifts came UPS and he saw a couple carried upstairs. Much to his dismay, he couldn't open them. He didn't understand why, if the gift was for him, the gift was in his house, and we had scissors, we couldn't just open it right then and there. Then came the morning of Solstice. Just as he ran for his box Ethan disappeared into the bathroom for a long stint. I tried to coax P to have breakfast first and wait for Papa. This was insulting to him. So he daily presents me with presents; his bulldozer, his fire truck. Then he tells me its my birthday, sings to me and informs me I have to wait until after lunch to open it :)

Magic

Seth came over with some friends and did a magic trick for Phoenix that he Adored. Holding something small in his hand he'd bounce it three times in front off P's face, tossing it over an unsuspecting Phoenix to Alicia's waiting hands. Then as P inspected Seth's magically empty hands, Alicia would pass the item back and Seth could make it reappear out of P's ear. When P requested that it come out of his mouth the next time, Seth obliged. As Seth "pulled" the toy from P's mouth Phoenix grabbed it, asking "Is it wet?" He was miffed as to how it came out of his mouth but didn't have slobber on it.... Because that was obviously the most perplexing part of the show :)