Block Builder

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

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



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

Icky Experiments

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

Stoop walker

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

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

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

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





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

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



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



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

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

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

Sleep stomper

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


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

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

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

Stranger Danger

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

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

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

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

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

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

B-b-b-benny and the beach

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

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

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





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



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

The singing explorer

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

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

P charges at BB:



A brief moment of respite:

Flower Power

P has started enjoying crafty things (typically a project with an expected outcome chaps his hide, but lately, not so much... he Loved making pom butterflies last month at a homeschool meet-up) so artsy crafts are creeping into our lives. Since the little man has been hot to trot about Spring, we've focused on flowers. The green roses were inspired by a site Aunt Alicia linked us to here (Thanks A!!!) The tissue flowers were our Earth Day project (I'm woefully behind on blogging!) to use up the tissue we've saved over the last year. P absolutely loved this one; his fingers were talented enough to form the flowers and the mounds of available tissue papers soothed his innate need to use Lots of any artistic media. A few days later, playing with his recycled truck from Uncle Ian, P explained to his pink monster that his Safari Truck was excellent because it reduced, reused and recycled.... :)

My little mountain goat

P was a Rocky Mountain Goat in his last life. The mountain fetish, the love of heights, the infatuation with Colorado and the addiction to jumping all point in that direction :) The other day he asked me to take photos of him jumping from the couch so he could see how high he was flying. When he eventually tired of tossing himself from the couch he took to just bunting BB. Then, well rested from the 10 minutes of chucking and chuckling, he joined BB for a few more launches. I honestly don't know how the child makes it through the day without a nap...

Swordplay

P has fallen in LOVE with sword fighting. (I can only imagine what it will be like around our house once Star Wars is seen :) Glowing swords! Holy moly!) After many, many months of swinging broomsticks, knife sharpeners, wooden spoons and home-made felt swords, the little man is finally in possession of a sharp, wooden sword. Two, actually, so that Papa can play too. These wooden weapons have withstood so much playtime in the last two weeks that one is already dented and splintery.

He also has a little sheath, so that a sword can accompany us out and about. Its amazing how much more fun almost anything appears when a sword is included. Here he is on a nice little nature walk last week:

(Yup, finally got the camera fixed and we have videos again!)

Fun with "Friends"

P piles into his swing with his best buds and thinks its heeeeelarious. (The initial idea was to smash BB beneath the weight of all of BB's family. Sweet, no? :)

Grams and four and a HALF

P seriously adores my mother. Having been without his Grams fix for over a month, he returned to asking daily when he could see her again. Though he's getting his days of the week and seasons pretty solid, time is still so fluid for him that "two months" is almost meaningless. And I found the concept of "going to sleep and waking up 60 times" is just depressing to some people :) So he called her on the phone frequently and chatted her ear off (which is a real act of love since his lack of "L" and his iffy "R" makes phone talk an occasional challenge :) Then the other morning he decided he just Could Not Wait any longer. And Grams, heroine that she is to the little man, she came through for him.

Her visit was made even more lovely by our very sweet landlords and lucky lack of neighbors. She slept in the apartment below us and P fancied himself fifteen, leaving home to visit Grams on his own :) We had great fun running about town, visiting toy stores and eating yummy foods. Sunday afternoon E and P hung out while I lucked into some quality mother-daughter time. The next day, as my mom and I laughed about something, P became more and more agitated. After a few out of character frustrations I questioned the little man about what was bugging him. He told me that I was getting too much time with Grams, that he needed more Grams time :)

While she was here we celebrated P's "half birthday." I first heard of half birthdays when P was a baby and I scoffed heartily at the concept. I waited a whole year for my birthdays, what was this nonsense :) Well, now that P is finally excited to get older (he was vocally reluctant to grow up for about a year there and has only recently changed his tune, due, in part, to his new stance on death. After fearing death for two years now, he has turned to denying it. He tells me he will live, "like a bowl, or a chair, Mama, a thing that never dies." And if, in play, the subject of death comes up, he quietly whispers to the Universe "I don't want to die. Thanks!" and then carries on...) he now loves marking his never-ending age. Sometimes, at the close of the day, he'll exclaim that he is now older than when the day started :) Additionally, he Loves everything birthday. He throws birthday bashes for BB on a weekly basis, wrapping toys, feeding the pink monster play cake, singing to his fuzzy friend. So it just made sense to celebrate this milestone.

P chose a carrot cake in a train shape for his big day. And he made it himself! When we filled the train mold and found there was extra batter, P decided we should pour it into his candy molds. I was a bit surprised when it all came out beautifully :) So after his favorite pizza dinner we lit some candles and sang that song while P's eyes danced and rolled (direct attention like that generally brings on an uncomfortable eye roll). As I grabbed my camera, E. feeling the birthday vibe, reflexively said 'Smile P!" We never tell P to smile for a shot, so it was hilarious to see him ham a grin. See above:)

That day he announced that he didn't like being called four and a half. We should just call him four. Then a few days later he asked if he could buy a real metal sword.

Me: Sure, P. That would be fun. (We try to always start with a yes. Its a good vibe to go with and leaves him feeling the infinite possibilities in his life)
P: Today?
Me: Maybe we'll wait till you're just a bit older, P. They can be a bit dangerous.
P: But Mama, I am four and a half....

Needless to say, Mr. Slow to Transition transitioned over to the "half" part pretty quickly :) If only he could better adjust to living so far away from Grams.... :)

The little man

P's outgrown his summer hat. At the shop, he eschewed the typical floppy brims I've always purchased in the past and opted for a tam and a fedora instead :)

Cultural cues

Its fascinating to watch general culture creep into P's psyche. And its equally fascinating to see what doesn't seep or creep. (Or hasn't, Yet.) For instance. P adores dresses. Always has. Cinderella has a special place in his heart, due partly to her fashion choices :) And he's been happy to sport a gown whenever the fancy strikes him.... until the other day. Swinging in his swing he sighed and said he wished he were a girl. Yah? Why's that, P? If I was a girl, he said, then I could wear dresses..... And so culture has crept. E and I have never said anything about this silly social limitation. I stand aghast at the thought of little girls forbidden to wear pants just a few centuries ago and am equally horrified that little boys are stigmatized in the dress category (all children innately love beautiful shiny things!). But P has finally put two and two together; it is a rare occurrence seeing a man all gussied up after all. Pity that, of course :)

But not everything insanely limiting that our culture ascribes to has yet to infiltrate the child's sweet little lovin' brain. As we zoomed through the park the other day a gentleman played his horn under an echoey bridge. P shouted out in excitement, "Mama! That man looks just like Grandpapa!" We were in a massive rush to get the kid to the loo, with the scooter enjoying a downhill surge, so I told him I'd look after our pitstop. As we scooted back through the tunnel, I slowed as P pointed at the musician and grinned. "Grandpapa! See! He looks just like Grandpapa!" And ya know what? He DID look just like my wonderful father in law. Except that he was African American. Otherwise, he was a dead ringer, I kid you not. But P didn't even notice the difference in skin tone. To him, people are like cats and dogs, they come in all colors, shapes and sizes, but they're all simply cats or dogs. Oh that this judge-free beauty will never leave him...

And love, to P, is equally equal. As are his toy preferences. Digging through my old toys in Kansas, P unearthed my Barbies. Still deep in his truck phase, he showed no interest whatsoever. Six months later, for reasons unbeknownst to me (and deep in a stuffed toy/doll phase) P wanted those Barbies. Bad. So the fabulous Uncle Cash mailed them, bringing the little man Great Joy this month. As he pawed through the miniature clothing and shoes, he devised a plot. (As most play occurs these days, P describes a fairly complex plot and then watches it unfold, directing each turn. I merely follow his lead.) And true to his fashion loves, he tossed aside the jeans and oxfords, opting for the wedding gown and fancy lace dress (both in like new condition as I always preferred the GI Joe clothes on my Barbies :). And what do you do with a wedding gown? Orchestrate a wedding, of course. So Barbie married Flower (despite the fact that I had a boy Barbie, dubbed Dexter by P) about a million times that day. They both walked down the aisle, said their vows, kissed and went to eat and dance. The dancing part was unbelievably adorable, as he took it so seriously, humming a tune, waltzing his newly married maiden, staring so strongly at the dancing girls - as if they came to life in his head. Then he had a brainstorm - plot twist. Barbie decided to give a hair-clip to Flower for a wedding present. Flower, of course, adored it and instantly added it to her ridiculously thick and long locks. Then, as they proceeded to the reception (thrown by our home-made P doll, watercolored by P, as seen in the background of the above shot, and little BB at their chateau) P plucked the clip from Flower's hair and dropped it. "Flower looses her clip," he stage whispered to me, filling me in on the new plot, "and Barbie goes to find it for her." This was added to the wedding ritual and re-enacted, with love, all afternoon. I can only hope that the world catches up to our children's innocent beliefs in love, equal love for all, someday soon....

The four year old

Honestly, four is so much freakin fun its ridiculous!

Gardening in the sky

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, P has been crazy for gardening this spring. It gives me midwestern pangs, truthfully :) Yardless, and gone for the month of July, a garden isn't really in the cards for us right now. But that's no reason the little man can't dig in the dirt and watch something grow! So we sprouted some peas and watched with delight while they grew tall and strong on our windowsill. A little batch of flowers beckoned us at the hardware store and some home sprouted basil looked like it might make it if planted so.... out the window we went. Four floors up with a curious four year old on a 100 year old fire escape provided the added excitement that mellow gardening usually lacks :) P loved the whole experience. A week of rain and everything is getting taller and greener and P can hardly contain himself until he can pick his own peas!



The little gardener:

Down days

So we had a lot of down days while P recovered from the flu. Fortunately, the little man is getting really good at finding fun Anywhere. When this metal can became emptied of toys (after, of course, it was used to throw BB away repeatedly) it became an echo chamber. He wandered after me and my laundry basket repeating the same mishmashed sounds over and over again. After 5 minutes of wall bumping he reappeared all smiles, "Mama, you've GOT to try this!" I stuck the can on my head and repeated as instructed. It sounded amazingly cool.... I wish I could remember what it was he was saying!

Fancy Feet

P's self portrait.

Feet, newly decorated by his Mama's Barbie shoes...



Oy was that a fun game!!!

Sick Saturday

We headed to Central Park (to rock climb, AGAIN!:) two weekends ago. But I could tell the little man wasn't quite right. So after a brief run up and down the rocks, we headed home. By three in the morning his fever was raging and I was up googling swine flu :) He coughed and was generally miserable for 4 days and then slowly recovered :) Is it just me or is the kid getting every flu imaginable out of the way during his young years? Guess its best to do it when someone will hold you all night!

Spring rock climbing

Enjoying our first really warm day this year, P and I returned to the rocks in Central Park. Can anyone spell "climbing addict?" :) P had a plan, too. He brought his long black rope (the one that he jumps, ties things with, dangles BB from... its an all purpose toy) in order to toss BB from the cliffs and chuckle while the monster dangled.

We found a new outcropping and settled in for some fun. Soon, a clothing photo shoot set up in the daffodils below our rocks. P paid no attention initially, but as they pulled out a faux picnic and lighting, he grew interested. He climbed, feeling very Bond, closer and closer to the shoot, ducking down when anyone looked his way. It ate up a Lot of his early afternoon :)

P, describing the picnic foods:



As we scooted to the zoo for a bathroom break, P remembered the children's section and decided we should take another peek. It was a good time:







Then we headed out for more climbing and new rocks. P's and my attempt to dig crystals caught the attention of a very friendly little boy. He gaily offered P some jelly beans and jumped right in to play Huck Finn.



After scoring the rock we were after, the boy offered to sword fight P with his sword balloons. Honestly, it seemed like a P playdate come true. A friendly, talkative, older child for an impromptu, pressure free sword fight. I looked at P's face, expecting a glow, and saw his blank look. The one he gives strangers for forever, only to be ready to chat them up as they are finally walking away. Nevertheless, he jumped about on the rocks with the boy, singing out a "ching-ching" occasionally for sound effects. When the boy called Phoenix by name I saw P almost glow :) Eventually, our new friend had to leave, promising to meet us again someday. As P watched the boy go, the one he hadn't uttered 5 words to in the last 30 minutes, he turned to me and said "I love that kid. Love him with all my heart. When can we see him again?" Ha! Slow to warm strikes again...

So we had some great rock climbing adventures while the day cooled and P watched for other kids that might befriend him with jelly beans:



Then, as I packed our bags, P wandered further and further afield, feeling quite Big and At Home. See the tiny pink P dot?



A glorious thing to see (even if the picture worries you, mom!) I was relieved to see him stretching his comfort zone - after his mishap the other week on an escalator. Knowing my preference for closeness on long escalators, P, of course, wants to be half the machine away from me. But, sometimes, he gets so obsessed turning around, directing me to not come closer (I'm not:) that he doesn't notice the end coming near. Typically a "Look!" from me suffices. But, on a busy midtown, rush hour escalator, P skipped down with dire directions for me to Stay. As people filled in the space between us, he kept looking back, filled with big kid pride. And then the end was near and he wasn't watching. My "look!" was lost and the young suit standing near him swiped P up to safety. As the child was lifted into the air by a perfect stranger, half an escalator away from his mother, he looked back at me and his face Broke My Heart. It was blank. Completely Blank. The fear, the lack of autonomy, the worry, was all so overwhelming that I could literally see him shrink inside himself. The suit carefully sat P down on the ground, turned around to give an anonymous and apologetic wave, and rushed on. When I finally got to P he was livid. "Don't EVER let someone do that Again!" His eyes fought back his tears and he clung to me. He told me he had thought the guy was going to take him away, that he was being kidnapped :(

So, after a week of fly paper like closeness, the kid stretched his legs again and enjoyed Spring.

Community gardening

Last week we went to a Homeschool New York event set up by the wonderful Twinkle (remember the Iron Fairies? That Twinkle.) It will be monthly - readers reading a short book to non-readers followed by a fun craft. P had a blast and Loved making butterflies at his favorite library. This week Homeschool New York started their very own community gardening plot, thanks to Milo's mum. P had jumped for joy when the idea was first mentioned but was less than enthusiastic the morning of the event. Which really drove home how easy it has been getting out of the house in the last two months. After months of turn- taking and deal making (I'll stay home Again today, P, if you'll go Anywhere tomorrow :) we'd been happily skipping out of the house a few times a week for fun adventures. I wasn't that surprised he was retracting his excitement. Since he started setting his own (late) bedtime routine, he was getting an average of 9 hours sleep a night. Yah, that's a couple short of what a four year old should be aiming for...

After chatting about the exact details of the day he was finally ready to zoom out the door, dark circles and all :) The garden is a lovely little spot in the East Village, surrounded by tattoo filled locals and ex-hippies. P and I were early and enjoyed the quiet space together, his irksome mood lifting with the outdoors and a good scoot.



When everyone was ready, we joined the gang to prepare our plot. There's nothing this city kid loves more than an excuse to dig in the dirt and he happily grabbed a shovel and heartily moved earth.



Then the drama started. One little girl didn't like where he was placing his dirt. Then another little boy was jealous of P's hole - he wanted a big deep hole too, but didn't want to make his own, he wanted P's :) I felt sorry for P, I could see his frustration mounting as he tried to give everyone their space and stay out of everyone's way. More kids piled around and the jealousy filled boy kept shoving P's shovel aside. P typically holds it together until it is Just Too Much and then he POPS. Wanting to avoid said popping, I lifted him towards the fence to an empty spot in the back. He started to dig a new hole, graciously giving his original one up. Then a little girl whined that she wanted to dig where he was, could he move? Then an older girl told him she wanted his shovel and handed him her hoe. He stuck the hoe into his new hole and realized it wouldn't do the job... and I could see the shadow pass over his face. D'oh. The pop was imminent and I coaxed him away from any moving objects since he was holding a rather large hoe :)

As he (very quietly, heaven forbid this most private child let other's overhear) railed about the loss of his shovel, I really felt for the tired little guy. And I saw so much of his father in him it made me smile. As he instructed me to retrieve the shovel (a community tool of which we had no special claim) and my answer disappointed him, I let him know he had a choice. He was tired and this felt Big. He could stay there, in that big, unhappy spot, and I would hold him while he was there. Or he could choose to let the sadness go and make his day a happy one. I was along for either ride and he really can Choose how his life goes. He swatted at me and then sat there for a second. Then he glanced back at his shovel longingly once more and said, "Let's explore the garden."

And so we did. His friend Milo joined us in a bush fort for a bit.



Then they gathered wood for a bonfire (well, P's was for a bonfire, Milo said he was gathering weapons for the fort, but they did gather sticks together :) Then Milo's unbelievably sweet and thoughtful mama let us know she had some solitary gardening to do, if we were interested. Hah! P jetted over to the now vacant plot and happily planted and watered for the remainder of the garden's hours. In the background, the other home-schoolers chased each other about the space. Ah, well, the kid comes from two introverted adults, you can run from your peers, but not your genes...



As for running from unhappiness, P seemed to embrace that concept wholeheartedly. The next night we met E for dinner after work. P was still tired. He repeatedly and accidentally dropped bits of my veggie burger's bun (that he was loving) onto the less than clean booth seat. As the last piece of bun not covered in spicy mustard slipped from sloppy tired fingers, P buried his head into my arm-nook and quietly cried. The restaurant was so loud I couldn't hear anything he said through his tears, but I kissed his head and he eventually rallied a sad face forward. Once outside, he got his bearings. "Is that Whole Foods over there?" Yup. "I want to go there and get something to replace my bun. There is a sadness in my heart and I want to feel better." E was ready to head home, but anytime a four year old says something like "sadness in my heart" a parent knows that they're smoked.......