Winter Festival

Pre-eye trauma, we had a fabulous weekend with family. NYC Parks Department threw a Winter Jam Festival. Previously held in Central Park, we were imagining wide open spaces surrounding the snowboarding and sledding, despite its new location on the East River. So after a yummy brunch with Seth and Alicia, we excitedly headed to our destination.

Everyone checks out a sculpture garden on the way, Lower East Side style:

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Upon arrival, we realized the location was much smaller this year and the crowd was overwhelming - I thought E would pass out :) Surprisingly enough, P seemed unfazed! He was too busy being mesmerized by the snowboarders hurling themselves at mach speeds...

E, not sure we should venture into the Jam after all...


After watching a few daredevils dive downhill, we headed through the throngs and watched some trampoline stunts.



But P had no interest "watching" anything. He informed us he wanted to "DO" something. No problem, P, whachya wanna do? He wanted to snowboard down the hill :) D'oh.



So we walked to the base of the snowboard station and found out P was a little too small :) Undeterred for action, he said he wanted to go to the rock climbing section. There too, we were informed he was to small... He was disappointed there were no adventures for "lil guys" and E and Seth needed to move into their new office - so I suggested we go Monster Hunting at the new building and P was off in a flash.... But having seen a little lost girl crying in the crowds (we helped her find her Papa) he was Not Losing Seth or Alicia.

P, with his death grip on his Very Sweet Aunt and Uncle:


As the brothers packed their boxes we needed to busy P ... First he explored with Alicia for a bit and then he and I set off for another "adventure, Mama!" We followed a stairway down to another level and around a few turns until we found exactly what we needed.... a mini golf course. I kid you not. Someone with a lovely sense of humor had added some astroturf and three holes below a huge window overlooking the city.




P screeched "jackpot!" and we settled in to play. After a few rounds he was still too psyched about his find and decided he just Must show Aunt Alicia. Fetching her back to the seemingly deserted floor, P chuckled happily and finished his supreme surprise with a "Ta-Da!!!"

The course was a little worse for wear, so Alicia and P set to setting the place up right. They bravely stuck their arms into the dark holes to fetch balls and such:



And then P settled in to play a few rounds for his captive audience (one of Alicia's friends had joined us too). He was as happy as a clam. And apparently had a sticky hand... And we wonder why we're sick so often :)

Candy Shop

A couple of weeks ago E and I were chatting about headlines (a rare opportunity) as we pushed P on his swing (E) and did the dishes (me). (As an aside, can I just say how much I LOVE having a swing in the kitchen? Now the little man can throw himself about, bouncing and twirling to his heart's content, while he tells me stories and chats. Before, the stories were there, but the physical element was lacking, leaving him to head butt me from behind as I scrubbed or climb the counters in search of physical stimulation. Now he is satisfied on all levels and the cooking and cleaning is so much easier that way!) Our conversation turned to mercury in high fructose corn syrup. P's super sonic bat ears were apparently on high alert because he quizzed me mightily the following day. He was really worried that poisons were hidden in his foods :( I reassured him he was healthy and our foods were safe, but he was aghast that suspicious chemicals could even make it into his food supply :) The conversation carried on for quite a while until P had asked all of his questions... and then he started problem solving. He decided to not purchase any deli candies, only healthy candies without chemicals, just to be safe :) So we got online to order from our favorite natural candy shop and he picked some substitutes. After their arrival, P poured his precious cargo onto the floor and set up a candy shop for BB. His displays were meticulously arranged and the monster was thrilled :) Its been over a week now, and the concern about HFCS has now been usurped by eye worries. He wears his sunglasses religiously outdoors. He informs me of every twitch, rub or blink. And as soon as it gets dark he starts verbally dreading his drops. If only the solution for his eye were as simple as his mercury avoidance plan!

P's eye

We had a fantastic Saturday with Seth and Alicia, pics and details to come, but I just wanted to write first about P's bravery and recent trauma. (This story will probably include more detail than most are really interested in. But since it was so traumatic for P, I thought I'd go all out in journaling it for his future therapist :). Sunday evening I noticed P had something stuck in his eye. (This actually happened almost two weeks ago too. The first time we went to our lovely doctor, who gave us some antibiotic drops and an optimistic plan that included the foreign body removing itself. The drops were quite a trial for P and I, but it all went well and the metal chip came out as planned...)

So I was really surprised to notice a shadow on his pupil on Sunday. Same eye, different spot. This time our doc thought it was a bit more problematic and referred us to NY Eye and Ear. Its a huge clinic in the city. P was devastated. He cried all the way home from the doctor's office, declaring he would Never Go.

We came upstairs to our freshly baked bread (it was just finishing, a wonderfully relaxing gift from the universe!) and a very long, very exciting story about Magic Opthalmologists. If you recall my slant on Santa, you know that facts and truth reign supreme in my mothering. Alas, at this point I was seriously above nothing. Call it supreme parental stooping. Call it a welcome to the real world. Call it lying if you must :)

The general gist was the history of my own horrible eye sight. How I was quite little when I first got glasses. How, upon leaving the doctor's office with my first pair of goggles, er glasses, I was amazed to see that trees had individual leaves. No more big, billowy greens for me, there were veins and stems galore. P loved this. I told him how the eye doctor had Magic Hands. Hands that were so steady, they could put contacts in my eye without even hurting me. How, many years later, when I tired of being blind without glasses, I was given Magic Drops that take away all pain. And then the eye doctor used his Magic Goggles and lasered my eye into the Right Shape. How my eye kinda hurt after the Magic Drops wore off, and I went to sleep, wondering if I'd ever see. And when I woke up, I saw everything, perfectly. How the doctor would use his Magic Goggles to see into P's eye, and then use Magic Drops to make P's eye feel no pain. And then use his Magic Hands to be so steady he could just pluck the metal right out of P's eye without it hurting.

By the end of my cheesy tale, P was smiling. But it wasn't enough. I figured the clinic would have paperwork and lines and a wait and combined with a child who worries, I was worried we wouldn't make it to the Magic Goggles stage of my plan. So, I stooped even lower. I tossed in a new toy.

As luck would have it, to reach the clinic we'd have to use the craziest of all subway connections. The uptown F to the uptown 6 at Broadway/Lafayette. For some inane reason, one has to actually Leave the subway system, go above ground for 2 blocks and then go back down to catch the 6 train. This stop is P's favorite stop. The gelato shop, Mulberry street library, his favorite pizza place, they all reside within a few blocks. So does the toy store that has the airplane P has been lusting after. So, for the sake of our sanity, I mentioned we'd be just down the street from the toy store, perhaps we should grab that plane to help wile away the wait?

The kid practically Skipped out the door.

He was amazingly resilient as we schlepped from one floor to another, filling out paperwork, waiting in lines. The airplane seriously saved the day as he revved its engine and flew it around waiting space after waiting space. This is what I told myself as that nasty word "bribe" kept reappearing in my brain :)

A few hours later, just as Ethan showed up after work, P sat in the optometrist's chair. He'd had dilation drops in the waiting room from a stranger who barely said hello (they were busy, I understand) and I was shocked at his composure. He continued with his strong face while the new doc shined lights in his eyes and looked at him through Magic Goggles. Then the doctor explained to P that he'd be given some drops (Magic Drops P!) and, while he sat rrrrrreally still, the man would gently rub his eye to remove the metal. P was Not interested in this. He said "no thank you." We talked about it for a while and he accepted the drops, which apparently stung quite a bit, and then placed his chin bravely in the headset. He sat there whimpering while the sterilized tip came towards his eye and really, really tried to hold his eye open, but apparently, countless years of evolution leading us to Close our eyes when something is aimed at it, was too hard for him to overcome.

We tried this a number of times, P becoming more and more upset each time. He told us he was too scared and was crying. Another doctor came in, this one fairly rough and unfriendly. He suggested bribery, what did Phoenix love most in the world? P said no way, jose. E offered a train as a trade. P said he'd take the train, but no thanks on the surgery. The gruff doc told us we should plan for surgery and anesthesia the following day. Then he said he was going home to dinner.

Then two female doctors joined us. We chatted about the risks of anesthesia, the risks of leaving the foreign body in, the risks of jabbing at a moving child. The three docs in the room were obviously dedicated. The place was clearing out (we were the last patient accepted for the day, so the last to be seen.) They felt the risks of anesthesia on a small child for a procedure that would only take 10 seconds was too high and unnecessary. The nicest of the three suggested we help P hold still (she also told me she's seen grown men cry during the same procedure:). E agreed. I said I couldn't imagine the effect of strangers holding him down against his will.

And there's the rub, really. We live our lives as consensually as possible. P's need for autonomy is intense and the respect he receives helps him make his way through life with love in his heart instead of a constant chip on his shoulder. When we've faltered in our parenting approach we've seen the immediate results in P and we redouble our effort and rededicate ourselves to respecting him. But, he's four and figures he only really needs one eye. Despite every explanation we could give him, he was satisfied to let his eyesight go to avoid this supremely scary experience. As parents we knew that decision wasn't doable. We figured he'd regret our respect in this situation when he was older and wanted to do an activity that required Both eyes. Nevertheless, making this choice felt like selling my soul down the river and I have yet to stop wondering what solution was there that I couldn't envision.

I'm not going to describe what happened next, I'm actively blocking it from my memory :) But I"ll include P's description, as relayed to the doctor he saw today for his check-up: "Mama and Papa sat on me and squashed me.... flat! Like a pancake!! And then they shoved a metal clamp in my eye - and it was open - and rubbed it, Hard! Over and over and over."

Which leads us to today. After removing the debris on Monday, they prescribed antibiotic ointment and a check-up on Wednesday. P flatly told the doctor he would Never return. The doctor smiled and told me we could have our check-up anywhere. P's poor eye was red and swollen and hurt. But he remembered the promised train and so we headed Back to the toy store... At dinner he did some serious play therapy with BB and the new train that took the monster to his own surgery, reenacting the situation, telling BB the story, over and over again. He even told BB he was soooo happy he'd had eye surgery. When BB asked why, P responded "Because it fixed my eye!"

Unfortunately, P was allergic to the prescription eye cream. But we didn't realize it until the second dose. It burned so badly for so long that, lying on the floor after his second dose, he murmured "If I was dead, I wouldn't have to do the eye cream anymore, right Mama?" There was no drama to this inquiry, he was just problem solving, a way out of something he really didn't like. But, of course, it was impossible to get ahold of a doctor at the clinic. So I found a specialty pediatric opthalmologist for our check-up and questioned them about the cream. They were wonderfully helpful and P was immensely relieved to find he would be cream free until his appointment.

As we left for his check-up this morning he double-checked with me that they wouldn't be hurting his eye again Oh, no, I told him, the metal was gone, we just needed to look at the rust ring and get some new drops. He marched into their office and easily did their eye tests. A very nice doctor came in and chatted P up, met BB, did some tricks, just really took the time to get the child comfy before sticking the kid's head into the same contraption that had scarred him on Monday. Seeing P push his little chin into the machine and glare into the bright lights while grasping BB was emotional. Even the doctor mentioned the enormity of the moment. But P had my word that it was just a check-up, just a little look-see.

And then the doc sat back and told him there was still a little metal in his eye, and if he could hold still, for just a few seconds after some drops, he could scrape it right out. P's face just crumpled. Seriously, if I'd had a picture of it, you could put it in the dictionary, right beside a wadded up piece of paper. He asked the doctor to explain it to him again, his voice pinched. The doc told him it would probably take 10, maybe 30 seconds and he would be all done. P said, "Or maybe 1 second? Or maybe even a minute?" And the doc laughed and said yah. It looked like P was going to go for it, but as soon as he leaned his head back and the dropper came near him he just fell apart. I can only imagine that everything that happened two days ago just flooded back for him. He shoved BB over his eyes and wouldn't come up for air.

The doc told us to take our time, he was going to get some wonder cream and then we'd try again. He turned Toy Story on the flat screen (yah, a leeeetle different than the clinic) and left us to chat. The nurse told P he could have a prize if he held his eye open. P told me he was too scared of the "scraping part" and that he couldn't, just couldn't do it.

His doc returned to see P still hiding beneath BB. He told me that he trains docs at Ny Eye and Ear and can only imagine how horrible Monday was for us. He promised P that it would be nothing like that, if P could trust him. P said he could not. The doctor said he completely understood. Then he suggested a different plan. The speck that is left is small, and its possible the body might expel it if cared for properly. P could use eye cream every night for a month to protect his eye while it works on healing and then we can come back in and reassess the situation. The risk of this plan is slight scarring on P's eye. But the doc said he'd rather P have a tiny scar on his eye than the emotional scar of another Monday. I agreed.

P was ebullient. "If its still there in a month, I'll let you take it out. IF its still there," he told his doctor. And so the child danced out of the office, ready to play in Central Park for the afternoon. As we left, he remembered the prize the nurse had proffered. He said he thought a prize was a grand idea. After four years of a reward free existence, learning and living for the mere sake of learning and living, we had ruined our child in a few short days. Great.

And as he played, I saw him periodically check his eye for flying debris. He wore his sunglasses the entire day. And after playing in the sand pit he asked me, in a very serious tone, to see if there was any sand in his eyes. Hopefully, with enough love and antibiotic drops, scarring of any kind from that tiny metal speck will be minimized.

The Contraption

Ever since the Kipper Contraption book, P has consistently created crazy contraptions. He devises plans for his creations almost daily and is most excited when the raw supplies for his inventions magically appear. And so it was when a friend sent us a bottle of wine. P immediately knew the destiny of the styrofoam shapes: a scary mouth for BB. Two boxes of nails later and an insane amount of focus and the child produced a fairly scary looking contraption. Too intimidating for the pink monster, P fed his contraption marbles instead, creating a lovely tingling sound that delighted him.

Snowy skirts

We are getting some super snows this year! In all truth, we may have gotten a lot of snow the last two winters, but P spent those seasons naked and indoors so I’m really not sure… This year, he slides his jacket on as if he's been doing it his entire life. Its probably a perfectly normal developmental milestone, but honestly seems like a miracle to me Every time we leave the house. In fact, as we walked down the stairs during the last snow, P called up to remind me that we’d need mittens. Wow.

For P, snow is perfect biking weather. He regularly bites it riding in such slick snow, but doesn’t seem to care. He pops right back on and chatters to himself as he BAMS ice pieces and smooshes snow tracks. I’ve decided that walking with him in freshly falling fluff is one of the nicest activities around. He is so peaceful and happy and occupied that its contagious.

You may notice the pretty skirt. He’s knee deep in Dakota Fanning admiration. In an(other) attempt to differentiate between movies and real life, we've watched two non-animated videos (Bonus: these films tend to skip the constant tirades of “stupids!” and “idiots!” and also goes beyond much of the really simplified good guy vs bad guy plot lines (which is fairly nauseating on a philosophical level) to a more nuanced description of life). We started with Mary Poppins – it has that fabulous live action/animation combo scene when they jump in Dick Van Dyke’s chalk painting. It gave us a chance to compare how the two approaches differ visually. And Van Dyke plays two characters, providing P a perfect opportunity to understand the idea of actors behind a role. I don’t remember ever looking behind the magical media curtain like this when I was a kid, but it seems important to P and his constant questions so...

So, a few weeks after Mary Poppins we watched Charlotte’s Web (we’re also reading it). (There was an animated version out when I was little that, quite honestly, planted vegetarian seeds. I find it a little nerve wracking how much movies effect kids. All part of the Big Picture, I know, and a “controlled upbringing” is just as scary as excessive info, but I’d love to hear if my folks would still show me Charlotte’s Web, now knowing it would forever set me apart on Thanksgiving :) Seeds already planted in P, he watched and loved the movie. He wants Gramps to raise pigs and cows now. (“Gramps has a farm Mama!) He was fascinated by the idea of animatronic pigs and CGI mouths. But most of all, he loved the fact that a kid could make a movie.

Cuz, after all, he can’t drive a car. He can’t get a paycheck. Can't leave the house by himself whenever he wants. Can't dangle off of the third floor fire-escape as desired. The list is never ending. Kid’s, apparently, miss out on a Lot. But this, a movie, well, a kid can make one of those?

Not only does Dakota save a baby pig while in costume, she has a real Job. And her job made this amazing story unfold in front of P. And then she sheds her jeans and galoshes and goes to the fair in a lovely yellow dress. And everyone tells her how lovely she looks. So P was ready to wear a dress and look lovely. He tore apart my closet looking for something appropriate and then hiked it on over his camouflage pants and boots. As he wrestled his coat and mittens on to head to the library he gave me my script.

P: Mama, BB sees me and asks why 'akota is wearing Phoenix's coat and mittens. BB thinks 'akota is going to the library with Phoenix's Mama and, and ....
Cue BB: Hey Dakota. Um, you going to the libarary?
Phoenix: BB thinks 'akota is taking Phoenix's coat.
BB: Um, excuse me, Dakota, but that coat actually belongs to my big brother, Phoenix. He's really nice and would probably let you use it, but, um, I'm nervous he might be cold without it...
Phoenix: BB! Its ME, Phoenix!
BB: Noooo! For Real??

And so it went, BB being confused repeatedly so that Phoenix could set things straight (a fairly common theme for his play these days). And then he'd hop off of his bike to twirl in circles and show BB how pretty his dress was when it caught the air. Then he'd hop back on to smash some ice pieces and tell me how confused BB was... Its really lovely how a three block walk in the snow can fill an entire day :)

His skirt and pants were littered with snow splashes when we finished our outing so they all went into the dirty clothes. Two days later, as we prepared to head into the city for an outing, P was upset his dress was dirty. Off to the closet he went, searching for something to fill the bill. Unfortunately for P, his mother's closet isn't full of tulle or hoop-skirts. Nevertheless, we were able to finagle a fabulous frock for Phoenix with a few safety pins. Wearing his big bowed dress over his sweat pants he was ready to travel. But BB! Poor BB. He was dreadfully underdressed. P grabbed his bag of satin ribbons and requested they be tied around BB. All of them. The little monster was a good 2 pounds heavier once fully fabricated.



Truth be told, this was one of the many times I am thankful I moved away from the Midwest. The homogeneity that overwhelms me in Kansas is obviously absent here, allowing people to be exactly who they are. And so traipsing through the Lower East Side with P was a simple, no nonsense affair. We went to our library craft day, where P was surrounded by other kids and the two children's librarians, who didn't even blink at his full on fabulousness. It wasn't until he was slowly scooting down Mott street to his favorite pizza shop that a comment came his way. A man called out to us, telling us that P reminded him of, are you ready for this? Dakota Fanning. No joke. The child's shine could have lit up the entire Empire State Building. Properly validated, he lay his dress to rest that night and hasn't requested it since. But its nice to know that if he wants to revisit that character again, he can do it fear free in his wonderful city.

(Our past bouquets having perished, P thought the house needed more flowers. Here he is in smell heaven, having bought a mixed bouquet with multiple fragrances:)

Archeologist in Training

P has always eschewed any future professions in favor of the now. But I realize that’s only half his issue. There’s that And his need to make sure that whatever he does later in life includes me:) He did think being an astronaut/space explorer sounded pretty good a while ago, but relinquished that dream immediately when he found out I was too old to enter astronaut training...

Last week Malek showed us some squirrel bones in the park and P’s curiosity was ignited. The child LOVES bones. Unprepared to collect a skeleton that afternoon, P and I later researched bone cleaning and prepared a plan to safely excavate said bones. He figures we should take them to the Natural History Museum, but would really rather keep them with his snail shells…

So as we schemed our dig and purchased hydrogen peroxide, he said maybe he’d like to be an archeologists when he grows up. What did I think? Oh, yes, P, very exciting. But Mama, could you be an archeologist too? Honestly, I will never be this loved again….

Food Fiend

P was apparently starved in his last life. We have always openly shared our food with him, yet he always seems concerned that he doesn’t have enough. I don’t’ know if he notices a difference in the proportions on E’s plate versus his plate or was scarred by the beginning of “Where the wild things are,” but he consistently asks for more than he could ever possibly eat. After many, many months of hoping the obviousness of plenty would help release his squirrel like tendencies, we’ve finally started planting seeds about waste and the idea of second helpings occurring after the first. I don’t think the concept has really sunken in. So I had to laugh when I sat down to breakfast and really took note of How Much food was actually on his sky high piled plate. Well, actually, there were Three plates :)

The Atlas

As a totally typical Mama, I adore P’s paintings (oh, have I mentioned that before?) Its so lovely to see him create without the weight of his great expectations lying on his little shoulders. This masterpiece was “The World.” After putting the paint Just So, he gave me a tour of his tiny utopia and all of its countries. Jersey even ranked!

The loft

Sorry for the delay - we've been stricken with the winter nasties! In true comic karma form, I teased E about how his colds are always "wwwway worse" than mine on a Sunday and we all fell ill Monday. Needless to say, E bounced back much quicker than I :)




So, as previously mentioned, in order to create some space in our bed-room (where the beds literally went from wall to wall to wall to door) we decided to loft our twin mattress. The room measures too small for any loft beds on the market (pathetically NY, no?) so we had to hunt for a handmade. Thankfully, there are plenty of other New Yorkers in the same, tight spot, producing a business of made to fit beds!

Stephen arrived with a huge toolbox, power tools and lots of wood. He was instantly P's hero. Added to these gifts of fabulousness was Stephen himself. He patiently went through his Entire tool box with Mr. P (despite my attempts to save the guy in case he was on a tight timeline.) Delighted with the show, P camped out on my lap in the doorway for the following two hours as Stephen answered the millions of questions aimed his way. This guy would even remember to warn P each time he planned to turn on the big saw (so P could grasp his sensitive ears). In the end, P traded contact info with him and they made plans to ride the Staten Island Ferry together (Stephen's other day job: Ferry Driver. Power tools AND he drives a boat? True love!) Then P insisted he refill Stephen's water bottle with our new "filtered" water and waved a happy goodbye.

Then we painted. P on the floor, me on the loft. He offered to switch media a few times :) I think his paint job much, much prettier than mine:



Then we had to find lots of fun things to do in the apartment to help the drying period fly by....

And then it was P's turn to fly. Over and over and over.



He loves to be chased off of the ladder by E's crawling hands. Or to "fall off" onto BB. The loft has been a constant distraction during our week of bountiful boogers - free fall being one of P's most favorite things.

But as most rough and tumble things in childhood, its all fun and games until somebody gets their eye poked out... or a bloody nose...



Apparently, Ethan's body has some hard spots even when covered with pillows :) Lesson learned! The child was Fascinated by his injury. Normally, his bonks garner little reaction from him. This one was studied, carefully, in the mirror. Then discussed (along with all relatives E or I know of that have Ever had a bloody nose) for most of the evening. And when any other bloodiness would have long been laid to rest, still P lamented his ill fate. As bedtime neared, I briefly worried the child was in real pain and offered some "purple medicine" if it really, really hurt. "No," he said, "Its just a normal bonk, Mama. I just want to keep talking about it. I had a bloody nose!"

Super sledding

With BB happy to share his new sled ;) we were able to go sledding with Yoav the next day. The slopes were empty and the boys had a blast. It was so much fun, in fact, we went again the following day too!

The first day, P gravitated from simple down-hills to progressively steeper, more jump filled runs. The second day he was ready for the big stuff right from the get-go. Unfortunately, the hills had been run rather dry by all of these happy sledders by then. He slid straight down, happy as a lark, hit a dry spot, suddenly veered sharply left and BOOM! Hit a tree. D'oh.

He pushed me a few times after that and then saddled up for another ride while I was at the bottom of the hill. I looked up to see him skidding down, poorly placed, right towards another tree! I yelled to him as he shoved his leg out and stopped the oncoming collision from occurring. That was the last run he was interested in for the day :(

Despite the goose-egg to the forehead, he had a grand time hurling me downhill and making snow angels.



Yoav shared his sled with his Mama and (real) baby brother, Elie and P pushed them too!

BB's world expands...

So, the little pink monster (the miniature, mind you) is the sole proprietor of a construction site, a glorious antique chateau (sidewalk scrounge), a treehouse, a VW, a pirate ship, and of course, the red sled. Despite the numerous tortures he endures, he is a well gifted Baby Brother and so P decided to build him... the world.

After sculpting a false front on his Gordon train, giving it an all black pain job and shiny silver wheels, we made a train set for his newly created Steam Engine for BB. Then P added in the old cardboard buildings he so adores and whalah! BB had a house (a new, even smaller BB from play-doh was required to fit in the tiny abode and tiny steam engine), a school and a boat house (as designated by the old buildings). P's script for this world was as follows: The train comes to pick up BB for school. BB doesn't want to go but has to. He trains to school and then escapes and plays hooky at the boathouse where he sails the sea and makes friends with a friendly crocodile



who then comes home to live with P, his Mama and Papa. This was enacted with much gusto, new friends piling into the Schulton yard by the minute. It all ended with BB starting a Dinosaur Wildlife Refuge for baby dinosaurs who's mums had been carried off by large birds. A four year old's imagination is such a lovely place to live during the day:)

Historic Moments

P has never seen me watch TV before (der :) we don't even own one) But come last Tuesday, I told him we had a mid-morning date with history. Having pulled the victorious voting switch himself a few months ago (bad mommy moment: P was actually running a fairly significant fever that day.... But it was two blocks away and I pushed him, uber-bundled, in a stroller!) he has been informed each step of the way in this election and there was no reason to stop short of such an historic inauguration.

Nevertheless, I wasn't sure how much info to give the kid. P realized it was a happy time just because we won't have to see W's mug anymore, but there was so much more to it this time than the regular changing of the guard. Yet, when are racial strife and persecution appropriately introduced to a cluelessly all-loving, everyone is equal kind of kid? I mean, any time is a good time to promote the absence of prejudice, but what if there isn't any inkling that prejudice even exists?

So I queried said kid. Had he ever noticed there were lots of different shades/colors to people's skin? Nope. No recognition at all of the question. And, raising him in the enormously diverse borough of Brooklyn with friends of numerous backgrounds, why would he? Loving his innate assumption of equality (that he demonstrates every day in different ways) I decided to leave this subject to a later date and enjoyed the meaning of the moment quietly.

So we sat down (well, he stood) and watched (thanks to the NYTimes live video) some introductions ("Kinda boring, Mama"), the quartet ("This isn't Boring!!!!), and the new president's speech. While openly joyous that W was on his way out, I didn't think we'd been waxing too poetic about the new prez. Apparently, not so. As we watched Obama speak P quizzed me.

P: Mama, you love Obama?
Me: Umm, I'm very hopeful P.
P: (Long Pause) Mama, you wish you married Obama instead of Papa?
Me: (Insert guffaw) No! I wanted to marry Papa! I just wanted Obama to be president :)
P: (Another long pause) Mama, is Obama a gooder person that you?
Me: Hah! I'm the best P! Really, P, I try to be a good person, and hopefully so does Mr. Obama.
P (Nuther looong pause) Mama, is Obama a gooder person than me?

Guess he felt the happy vibes emanating from every pore of my existence that day and translated my immense relief that the great Bush Monster was being buried as true love :)

He was fairly riveted for the beginning of the speech, squidgeted and quizzed in the middle and departed for the tail end - but seemed aware something grand was in the air - he didn't ask me to stop watching with him :)

Another winter wonderland

E and I chat occasionally about new neighborhoods. Cheaper ones, with larger flats. But then there's a beautiful day - or a mound of snow - and we are so very thrilled to be by this lovely park that we know we aren't going Anywhere :) And so it was last week when the fluffy stuff started and P pulled me through the house on his way out the door (in his jammies ;)

After layers and a snack we headed across the street, P on his bike, BB in my bag. The wooded area just across the street would probably be laughable to a native of the Rockies, but for a New Yorker it is unbelievably outdoorsy :) Very few come through our monster woods and the paths meander up and down until they reach a... parking lot. But if you face the right direction, (away from the tops of the brownstones) its a full on woodsy experience - and P just loves it.

After frolicking on his bike in the snow and then obsessively picking powder covered flowers we headed home for hot cocoa.




But alas, what did my scrounger son spy at the bottom of the stoop? A free sled. A red rectangle sled, no less. Knowing there was limited space for such treasures (and that the chair he had rescued from the sidewalk last week with a "Mama, its USEFUL, it can't just go to the dump! We should take it in. Its a good thing, mama." had claimed a large footprint in our home) he instantly went into problem solver mode. The new sled was Necessary for BB. BB didn't have a sled, and this new one had a string that he could pull BB with and.. and.... and :)

So there went the hot cocoa plan ;) Back through the park we danced, even more snow adding more enchantment to the evening, with BB happily ensconced in his new chariot. Whenever P would hit a bump that would bonk BB, sliding the monster from his sitting position, P would stop, carefully replace his beloved and carry on through the woods. All the way through the woods we wandered to the good sledding hill beyond, reaching it just at dusk. It really was lovely.

P pulling BB




The boys (I swear, I'm practically clinical these days. BB is such a fixture in our home that I find myself referring to Phoenix and his monster in plural regularly...) ready for a ride downhill



By dark we were spent and headed home to our warm radiators, P enormously pleased with his new possession and BB enormously wet :)

Narnia

P's love of stories has expanded to longer and longer books of late. I think it really began with his adoration of the Hugo Cabret book Aunt Alicia gave him. The more developed characters suit his personality well - even if much is still lost on his young mind. So we began the Narnia series last month. I was extremely excited (as much as I love a good picture book I've been having book withdrawals lately with no time to read myself!) and also a little apprehensive that without pictures he would lose interest, thereby dooming future reads. Alas, there was no reason to worry...

After zooming through almost the entire second book (the most riveting, really, so I thought we'd start strong and go back from there) P insisted on our next library trip that we get all Seven books in the series. Then he spent days showing BB his stack "of big boy books, BB, pwobably too big for you, but I Love them." I'm not sure where the "big boy" designation came from (we are strictly non-agist around here :)but upon check out he told me he was nervous he wasn't allowed to check out a "big boy book." "Are they for grown ups, Mama, or for little guys?" I reassured him the series was for all ages that were interested, but he still translated that into BB being too "wittle" :)

Above, E caught us in bed on my birthday, starting yet another in the series...

Snowy Sunday

Phoenix is into E. I know I've said it before, but his adoration for his father just keeps growing. He still doesn't like it when I leave, but its becoming less and less of a big deal, and more and more of a big deal when E leaves.

For example, P now asks every morning where Papa is. He's starting to get his days of the week (vaguely, very vaguely, but he's really working on it) and is ever hopeful for Saturdays and Sundays (on those days, typically, E is up early, working at his desk, giving P the perfect opportunity to sneak up on his father and yell BOO!!). So he was rather miffed when E was missing from the house Sunday morning. A fresh snow had fallen in the night, and when E returned he mentioned that kids were out sledding. Heaven forbid P not try this, and he became fixated on getting a sled and hurling himself downhill.

Being the afternoon after a good snow, the hardware store had slim pickings and P's hope for a "wectangle sled" could only be met if we moved into a larger apartment. Upon further discussion he agreed to the "twirly-whirly sled" (the round ones) but upped the ante for a new snow shovel. (Our last snow found us at the hardware store too, but that outing was due to a snow shovel request from P. The only ones available that trip were Enormous, much too unwieldy for a little guy. So E had proffered a dustpan cum snowshovel. The kid agreed and used it all the way home...never to be touched again.) Now, holding his sled, he explained his need for an upgrade. The current "snow shovel" required him to kneel down in the snow, getting his pants wet and making it difficult from such a height to actually, well, shovel. He needed one, he explained, with a longer handle. Fortunately for him, the store now had a telescoping shovel, perfect in size for P.

Seth and Alicia had met us at the store and sweetly sat through P's very thorough negotiations. The kind of negotiations that end with E and I teasingly calling one another "oaks." At any rate, the child happily skipped out of the store to shovel and sled and we, despite hoping to store nothing more and spend much less, had to agree with the kid's solid logic:)

At the park, P blissfully played with his fabulous Aunt and Uncle. Ethan pushed him downhill in the sled, Uncle Seth packed snowballs and Aunt Alicia helped P learn clever snowball throwing tricks. As I re-joined the group, P called out to me, "Mama, look over there at that tree!" and then launched a snowball my way :) Pure heaven for P. He can feel sneaky, watch something explode, and hear someone scream in mock horror all in one fell swoop. After "surprise" attacking us over and over again, he set off down the sidewalk, shoveling scoop after scoop of snow.

Following steaming mugs of hot cocoa to ward off our chills, Seth and Alicia went to run errands and E headed to work. P was devastated. He had counted on the whole day with his father and just fell apart when E walked out the door. As I rocked him on my lap (after he finished clawing at the doorknob) we heard someone approaching on the stairs. E had forgotten his keys. Once P had him in the apartment, he stood between E and the door, saying E was captured and could Not leave. E sweetly asked P if he needed something. Was there something they needed to play or do before he went to work? Why did P need him to stay? To which P, sucking back his tears, replied "Because I love you." Needless to say, Ethan the Oak did not go to work on this snowy Sunday :)

Phoenix's Fabulous Fort

Our bedroom is on the small size. I think in real estate jargon its typically termed "nursery or office." But all we need it for is bed jumping and sleeping, so we've dedicated our larger rooms to eating (which we do A Lot) and playing (also, A Lot;) and left the "bat-cave" as E lovingly refers to it, to the beds. After two years of beds filling, quite literally, wall to wall to wall (they do not touch the fourth wall, which is the doorway:), my feng shui snobbery is getting the better of me. We plan to loft the twin, giving us some actual floorspace between the walls not covered by a mattress. To test out the idea, E and I took turns this weekend heaving boxsprings over our head to see what it would really be like. We liked it :)

P liked it even more. Pillows and blankets were piled about. His chairs moved to make room. Boxsprings were piled against the wall. Unused to clutter (since neither E nor I can stand it), the little man felt his house born anew. He started gathering everything up and re-piling it in the cramped bedroom, claiming the newly stacked beds his cave and the pile his "dump." He tossed anything and everything on said pile he could get his hands on. I looked on quietly as I put away laundry (our closet is in the doorway to the bedroom) until he went for the clean clothes :) He was fine with my preferred limit (not to wash all of the clothes Again, after a trip to the "dump") and took to scaling his house instead. He added pillows to the top, calling them his "bricks" and long paper rolls, calling them his "pipes." I quickly morphed into a nameless "work-lady." As in, "Work-lady, could you please help me lay these bricks? Work-lady, do you know how to lay pipe?" and "Work-lady, do you want to climb on the roof with me?" and lastly, "Work-lady, do you want to jump off of the roof with me?"

It was my birthday that day, so it was with a light heart that I left the dump behind and went to a movie ;) Two hours later, a happy child met me at the theater and when we wandered home, the bat-cave-dump had re-materialized into our little bedroom. Aww, isn't he a good husband?

Treasure hunter

P's outdoor treasures are displayed on one of our tables. His crystals live there, alongside sea glass, cicada bodies, clam shells, pebbles, rock salt (wha??? there's free salt crystals just lying about on all of the sidewalks?! and I can bring them home, Mama? Yayyyy!) and other crazy finds. He likes to add to his collection and then carefully look it all over. Notice the pretty yellow flowers? He heard Aunt Alicia mentioning that Uncle Seth is sweet enough to bring her flowers. Then he heard me teasing E that he's Never brought me flowers (there's environmental reasoning behind it, but its still fun to tease the guy:) Well, P took it to heart and has bought me flowers Twice since then :)

Sub rider take two

Another sub shot of the little man. Anyone notice he's wearing a Winter Coat in all of these outdoor pictures? Last year this time he was still Naked all of the time. Now he's dressing himself (ok, once!), willingly wearing his coat and hat, asking for mittens....

Life's a beach

Wednesday (our adventure day this week) was frigid. And I do mean freezing. I had it all planned out. We'd take a nice trip to the well heated Brooklyn Children's Museum, which is newly renovated. But after lunch, P said no thanks. A typical response when attempting anything out of the everyday for him. We had a nice chat about his worries (getting lost, security guards, getting taken on a train, breaking a rule at the museum. Heartbreaking to hear the serious worries of a four year old!) and how comfortable it is to do the familiar. Then I reminded him of all of his favorite things we had done, and how many of them had been firsts that he had been worried to go to. I told him I was willing to go anywhere on Adventure Day, as long as we had an adventure and expanded our worlds just a titch...

To my surprise he chose the aquarium. I mentioned that it might be awfully chilly by the water, but in light of his willingness to travel afar, I was happy to add layers:) His recent shark tooth acquisition and shark tattoo had him rather excited to show BB (who is extremely fearful of sharks) the shark tank. And do you know what the child did before we left? He dressed himself. Head to toe. His undies were on backwards and his shirts took him a while, but he did it. This is something he has shown No Interest in, despite my frequent offerings of independence ("P, here's your shirt. You want to put it on?" "No thanks, Mama, you do it." etc) For whatever reason, he finally felt the need to achieve this milestone. (He had me dress him today, so I'm not saying he's turned over an independence leaf or anything, but now he knows he can do all of it himself, which produced a surly smile and an attempted sulk;)

The aquarium was wonderfully empty and we had a lovely time. P is so dedicated to his monster. Whenever he learns something, he turns to BB and repeats it. If its something slightly confusing or surprising to him, he has the monster describe the situation incorrectly so that he can correct him and re-explain it over and over. They observed the frogs burrowed in their bedding and then saw a caterpillar drown in a water dish. I was slightly horrified, but P was simultaneously fascinated and zen about it. Once the bug finished twitching P easily moved on to another tank, explaining to BB that the caterpillar died, but here were some live crickets....



The walrus captivated P for a looooong time. It is a glorious creature to watch.



We eventually made it to the shark tank where P and BB petted the display skin and looked through the magnifying glass.



Then P was ready to go find crabs on the beach, and we were off...




There weren't any crabs on the freezing sand (we had found some there when the days were warmer) but plenty of other interesting shells to be had. So we gathered until our hands were frozen and then headed home with our new treasure from our seaside adventure.

Chef Phoenix

You know how I mentioned that P's life is expanding with new videos of late? And how I gave credit to both our society at large and P's Papa in particular? Well, I should have mentioned another accomplice. The library makes for an unlikely suspect, I know, but is a major culprit nonetheless...

We've fallen in love with the Mulberry street branch library in the city. The books are organized in the most amazing fashion, the space is modern and gorgeous, the tables and couch accommodating, the librarian is Fabulous and... its just a few blocks from P's fave gelato store and pizza place. So every Friday we go get a scoop, read for a few hours and then meet E for a slice. Its a great outing during the cold months. With one hurdle for me, and one blessing for P: the video section.

Yup, the cat's out of the bag, there are free videos to be had. So the last two Fridays, (its a recent discovery) P has chosen a video to bring home alongside his new books and pint of ice cream (the holiday special, peppermint (sans food coloring!) is in stock right now). This last week was Ratatouille. The movie contains a surprisingly complex plot, providing P with lots and lots of questions as to character motives and vocabulary choices. He wants me to watch it right alongside him so his constant questions can be answered. After consuming it a few times he was inspired to call himself Chef Phoenix and start cooking. Feeling one with the lead character, he was certain his novel food combinations would be tre-magnifique. He picked and pulled from the pantry and then started stirring. Then he offered me the first bite. Ummm, let's review the ingredients: multiple bean types and tomato sauce (inspired by his direction I cooked chili with his left-overs), crushed peppermints, ketchup, pickle juice, mustard, sunflower seed butter, chocolate chips, pumpkin seeds, zucchini, tomato chunks, sunshine drops and dry pasta. When I suggested that the cook usually tried his creations so he knew what changes he should make he told me "Not in this kitchen. In this kitchen, the cook lets the customer try the first bite."

What was most adorable was his certainty that his food would be delish. As he topped it all off with mounds of colorful sprinkles he told me he was making it to go alongside the chili. He then grabbed a serving utensil and four plates and served it up, "One for you, one for me, one for Papa and one for BB." Lucky, lucky us:)

Rocket man

Alien encounters with BB..

I've had Elton John stuck in my head. P's been psyched to do experiments and projects of late (as long as there aren't too many instructions or anything even slightly "teachy" going on ;) and chose to make a self-propelled rocked on Tuesday. After multiple attempts (the first rocket was too darn heavy, the second string too short etc etc) our rocket shot all the way across the playroom with a mini BB and P inside. Phoenix was thrilled and initiated countdown after countdown. After plenty of encounters on Mars, P snuggled down on the couch to explain all things alien (a recent fascination for the little man thanks to his Harold and the Purple crayon book) to his monster.