Jack sings himself to sleep sometimes, either when we put him to bed, or when he wakes up early. Some recent favorites follow. It's important to imagine his little voice piping up, occasionally scratchy, occasionally loud and boisterous or high-pitched.
"B...I...B...L...E... Yes that's the book for me...." (A song his Grandma sings to him.)
"Drumming.... Drumming... Drumming...." (A Backyardigans song.)
"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells....Jingle.... All Da Way....Jingle Bells...."
"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Rein-DEER!!!! Has a .... shiny ....Nose!"
"Santa Claus...... Is. Coming.....Town!"
I imagine we'll still be singing Christmas Carols come June, although I can hope.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Jack's Christmas
I went in to get Jack, while Emmy went downstairs to turn on the tree lights, the Santa and the Sleigh outdoor display (which I of course hooked up inside, since we live over our garage and I don't don't have a ladder), and all the other various lights I connected to set the scene. And make coffee, seeing as it was 6:15 a.m. and all. As I brought him downstairs, I explained to him that Santa had come last night and brought presents. "Yeahh..!" he said. "Santa!"
I set him down at the bottom of the stairs and he headed for the living room. Santa had thoughtfully taken the train tracks out of their box, set them up, and added all the various features -- tree, Sir Topham Hatt, trains, stop sign. Jack went right to it, oblivious to all the new presents underneath the tree and his other unwrapped gift, a musical band box with different instruments. "Trains!" He spent the next 10 minutes or so playing with those, while Emmy and I slugged down coffee. Then we each opened a present, and introduced Jack to his band box. He showed some interest in the various things, of course particularly in the ones that make the most noise, and then returned to his trains.
Then chaos set in. Ian, Cathy, and the rest of the Rosenfelds -- Reanna, Lyndsay, Stacey -- came over, and the girls were immediately at the tree. I think I blinked and in that time all the presents had been distributed by the twins, there was a flurry of paper in the air, and suddenly everything was open and it was impossible to walk anywhere. Jack played with their toys, they played with Jack's toys, I spent some time trying to open this realistic looking monkey that made noises and said ooh ooh ah ah and so forth, finally got it open, and gradually came to feel it wasn't quite as frightening as I thought initially. Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Linda were on hand as well, and there was much in the way of food, hors douvres (probably misspelled), drink, all that stuff. Ian set up the Mousetrap game we'd given Reanna, which was great fun for everyone, including Jack, who had little interest in the game but liked making the ball-bearing roll down the staircase.
At some point we let Jack go upstairs with his cousins, and they were going to color with markers. I'm not sure I need to explain where this plan went awry, but merely telling the twins to make sure Jack only colored on the paper was, of course, not good enough. No, instead they came down and notified us that Jack had started coloring all over his rug, rocking chair, etc. And so he had. I'm well aware that he'll do worse in the future so I won't complain too much.
A good dinner was had by all, nice work Emmy, and more playing with toys occurred. One of the twins -- no, I can never really tell, I try, but what can I say -- had some fun with Jack's Backyardigans Colorforms set, creating quite a nice scene with all of them in their pirate uniforms and so forth. I played with a wooden car Jack got that had some very cool craftsmanship. And read Jack some of his new books, including one with pigs and Dragon's Merry Christmas, which he showed his appreciation for by saying "Again."
His favorite toys -- on that certain day, but it changes a lot -- were a bucket of plastic food and a wooden crate of plastic fruit. And a plastic pizza. I don't know that I really understand why kids like imitation food, but the Rosenfeld girls do and so does Jack. He made me a waffle and pizza sandwich, which I pretended to eat, and then he cut slices of his little plastic pizza, and we ate those. "Here, Daddy," he'd say, with the same tone he'd use when handing me a apple skin after he'd eaten the apple out of it. "Here, Daddy."
I put him to bed that night by reading him his new books, and singing him his favorite songs (Rudolph, Frosty, Santa, Twinkle Twinkle, Edelweiss), and letting myself out of the room. Down to the living room and the Christmas Tree and Emmy and a glass of wine, and the knowledge that it would be Christmas again some time, and maybe next year it would seem to move more in slow motion, rather than in fast-forward, like far too many things with Jack tend to do.
I set him down at the bottom of the stairs and he headed for the living room. Santa had thoughtfully taken the train tracks out of their box, set them up, and added all the various features -- tree, Sir Topham Hatt, trains, stop sign. Jack went right to it, oblivious to all the new presents underneath the tree and his other unwrapped gift, a musical band box with different instruments. "Trains!" He spent the next 10 minutes or so playing with those, while Emmy and I slugged down coffee. Then we each opened a present, and introduced Jack to his band box. He showed some interest in the various things, of course particularly in the ones that make the most noise, and then returned to his trains.
Then chaos set in. Ian, Cathy, and the rest of the Rosenfelds -- Reanna, Lyndsay, Stacey -- came over, and the girls were immediately at the tree. I think I blinked and in that time all the presents had been distributed by the twins, there was a flurry of paper in the air, and suddenly everything was open and it was impossible to walk anywhere. Jack played with their toys, they played with Jack's toys, I spent some time trying to open this realistic looking monkey that made noises and said ooh ooh ah ah and so forth, finally got it open, and gradually came to feel it wasn't quite as frightening as I thought initially. Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Linda were on hand as well, and there was much in the way of food, hors douvres (probably misspelled), drink, all that stuff. Ian set up the Mousetrap game we'd given Reanna, which was great fun for everyone, including Jack, who had little interest in the game but liked making the ball-bearing roll down the staircase.
At some point we let Jack go upstairs with his cousins, and they were going to color with markers. I'm not sure I need to explain where this plan went awry, but merely telling the twins to make sure Jack only colored on the paper was, of course, not good enough. No, instead they came down and notified us that Jack had started coloring all over his rug, rocking chair, etc. And so he had. I'm well aware that he'll do worse in the future so I won't complain too much.
A good dinner was had by all, nice work Emmy, and more playing with toys occurred. One of the twins -- no, I can never really tell, I try, but what can I say -- had some fun with Jack's Backyardigans Colorforms set, creating quite a nice scene with all of them in their pirate uniforms and so forth. I played with a wooden car Jack got that had some very cool craftsmanship. And read Jack some of his new books, including one with pigs and Dragon's Merry Christmas, which he showed his appreciation for by saying "Again."
His favorite toys -- on that certain day, but it changes a lot -- were a bucket of plastic food and a wooden crate of plastic fruit. And a plastic pizza. I don't know that I really understand why kids like imitation food, but the Rosenfeld girls do and so does Jack. He made me a waffle and pizza sandwich, which I pretended to eat, and then he cut slices of his little plastic pizza, and we ate those. "Here, Daddy," he'd say, with the same tone he'd use when handing me a apple skin after he'd eaten the apple out of it. "Here, Daddy."
I put him to bed that night by reading him his new books, and singing him his favorite songs (Rudolph, Frosty, Santa, Twinkle Twinkle, Edelweiss), and letting myself out of the room. Down to the living room and the Christmas Tree and Emmy and a glass of wine, and the knowledge that it would be Christmas again some time, and maybe next year it would seem to move more in slow motion, rather than in fast-forward, like far too many things with Jack tend to do.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
"How was your day, good?"
Jack talks a lot, as I believe I've mentioned before. One of the recent fun things is him coming up to me in the afternoons or evenings, all serious, and saying "How was your day, good?" There's only a slight pause there; he's answering for me. Almost as if he believes "good" is part of the question, rather than the answer. I tell him, and then I ask him how his day was, and he says good. And sometimes I get details, and sometimes I don't. Frequently the details don't make sense. He'll say "Teddy and Jared," who go to daycare with him, but beyond that, I don't know what they actually did, just that they were there. Or that he is happening to mention their names.
He likes to have me draw things on his doodle board, this magnetic art board. Lately's it's "Frosty and Santa and the Christmas tree." I'll draw Santa, and he'll say "And now Frosty." And I'll draw Frosty, and he'll smile a little wider, and then he'll say "And the Christmas Tree."
His favorite books right now are a few he got up in Vermont at an early Christmas up there. "Are you my mother," by Dr. Seuss; "Carl's Christmas"; "If you're happy and you know it," and "Over in the Meadow." We read all four of them, every night. I make up different dialogue for the Carl book, since it's mostly pictures of a dog taking a baby out on the town, which doesn't seem safe, but anyway. The Dr. Seuss book is a riot, the other books are fun. Jack claps his hands and stamps his feet, he says "Oh no!" in the Dr. Seuss book when the baby bird gets picked up by the Snort, and is happy when he's back in the nest and sees his Mommy.
He walks around with two wooden ornaments on his wrists, one a train, the other a truck. I put them back on the tree, but he keeps managing to get them off, and they're back on his wrists.
Yesterday we were looking at Christmas decorations. He said, what's that, and I said, that's Santa in his sleigh, he said, oh, and then we looked at Frosty.
Jack: "Where's Frosty's sleigh?"
He likes to have me draw things on his doodle board, this magnetic art board. Lately's it's "Frosty and Santa and the Christmas tree." I'll draw Santa, and he'll say "And now Frosty." And I'll draw Frosty, and he'll smile a little wider, and then he'll say "And the Christmas Tree."
His favorite books right now are a few he got up in Vermont at an early Christmas up there. "Are you my mother," by Dr. Seuss; "Carl's Christmas"; "If you're happy and you know it," and "Over in the Meadow." We read all four of them, every night. I make up different dialogue for the Carl book, since it's mostly pictures of a dog taking a baby out on the town, which doesn't seem safe, but anyway. The Dr. Seuss book is a riot, the other books are fun. Jack claps his hands and stamps his feet, he says "Oh no!" in the Dr. Seuss book when the baby bird gets picked up by the Snort, and is happy when he's back in the nest and sees his Mommy.
He walks around with two wooden ornaments on his wrists, one a train, the other a truck. I put them back on the tree, but he keeps managing to get them off, and they're back on his wrists.
Yesterday we were looking at Christmas decorations. He said, what's that, and I said, that's Santa in his sleigh, he said, oh, and then we looked at Frosty.
Jack: "Where's Frosty's sleigh?"
Monday, December 11, 2006
Daddy Sing a Song, and more
Putting Jack to bed is occasionally challenging, because we aren't always good about keeping to a routine, and since we both enjoy doing it we go back and forth, and on and on. Sometimes we put him down and he wails, but rather than a vague, frustrated wail, it's usually something specific, like
"Daddy sing a song!"
I'm not a particularly good singer; I'm sure most would agree. But Jack, because he's young and inexperienced, enjoys my warbling attempt at Edelweiss, and now Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. So sometimes it's "Daddy sing Edelweiss," and other times, "Daddy sing Rudolph!" (On the particularly bad nights, he'll want me to sing a song, and THEN he'll want Mommy to sing a song...we try to avoid those ones.)
Anyway, there's something very heartening about his little voice piping up "Daddy sing a song," or, as I'm bringing him upstairs to bed, "Sing a song?" And better yet, he chimes in, singing along to Edelweiss ("bloom.....an grow.....for-ev...er...." "you.... happy .... meet me....") Frequently as the song ends, he says, "Again?" And we go again.
What's amazing is that he already knows a surprising number of the words to Rudolph. Tonight I heard him singing it with his Mommy: "hadda very sy-nee nose... AND if ever saw it...."
Good stuff. As of yet, I'm not tired of singing those songs over and over to him. Not sure I ever will be.
PRE-CHRISTMAS
Jack's getting into Christmas. It's quite amusing, that he used to fear Santa, and maybe still does, but he also loves pictures of him, and Rudolph, and Frosty the Snowman. He has a couple of little toys, a little wind-up Santa and Frosty that we've had for years, that he's fascinated with. We have a couple of window decorations that he takes out of the windows and carries around the house; they're of Santa and Frosty, and he likes to lay them down, pretend they're sleeping, whatever. He stacks them up into a tower ("Tower of Power," he calls it, a Backyardigans reference), plays with them, says they're "friends." He has a Santa hat he occasionally puts on and walks around wearing; it's big and slips over his eyes, and so he walks a little slower.
He points to snowman and Santa ornaments on the tree; points out pictures in his Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer book (his current favorite book); brings me his drawing board and wants me to draw pictures of "Rudolph, Santa, Frosty, and the Christmas tree." I think everyone in the family down here has read him the Rudolph book.
(At this point I should mention that last week we went to the Greenwich tree lighting, and there was a person in a Rudolph costume there. This is before I'd got him the book. Jack was transfixed; we went up near him and I put Jack down, and Rudolph's elf helper said, "Do you want to hug Rudolph?" Jack did a little half nod and threw out his arms and went up to Rudolph and gave him a big hug. It was classic.)
One final Jack thing, not necessarily Christmas related. Last night we were sitting in the living room near the tree, and Jack started bringing us his toys. "Hold. Hold, Daddy." And then he started bringing us our shoes. And our jackets. And then he came in clutching the two basketballs we use for his hoop outside. So we're sitting there in a pile of stuff, and he's like "Be right back," and he'd come in with yet another item. Just funny.
I'm sure there are other recent things I don't want to forget -- like when he saw a picture of himself from the zoo and he said "I'm at the zoo," even though there was nothing in the picture to indicate it was at the zoo. Like when his grandma was cracking him up by saying "gook," in reference to food on his cup. And things I can't even remember, sadly, which means I really need to write this blog more than once a week.
He's a great little guy.
"Daddy sing a song!"
I'm not a particularly good singer; I'm sure most would agree. But Jack, because he's young and inexperienced, enjoys my warbling attempt at Edelweiss, and now Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. So sometimes it's "Daddy sing Edelweiss," and other times, "Daddy sing Rudolph!" (On the particularly bad nights, he'll want me to sing a song, and THEN he'll want Mommy to sing a song...we try to avoid those ones.)
Anyway, there's something very heartening about his little voice piping up "Daddy sing a song," or, as I'm bringing him upstairs to bed, "Sing a song?" And better yet, he chimes in, singing along to Edelweiss ("bloom.....an grow.....for-ev...er...." "you.... happy .... meet me....") Frequently as the song ends, he says, "Again?" And we go again.
What's amazing is that he already knows a surprising number of the words to Rudolph. Tonight I heard him singing it with his Mommy: "hadda very sy-nee nose... AND if ever saw it...."
Good stuff. As of yet, I'm not tired of singing those songs over and over to him. Not sure I ever will be.
PRE-CHRISTMAS
Jack's getting into Christmas. It's quite amusing, that he used to fear Santa, and maybe still does, but he also loves pictures of him, and Rudolph, and Frosty the Snowman. He has a couple of little toys, a little wind-up Santa and Frosty that we've had for years, that he's fascinated with. We have a couple of window decorations that he takes out of the windows and carries around the house; they're of Santa and Frosty, and he likes to lay them down, pretend they're sleeping, whatever. He stacks them up into a tower ("Tower of Power," he calls it, a Backyardigans reference), plays with them, says they're "friends." He has a Santa hat he occasionally puts on and walks around wearing; it's big and slips over his eyes, and so he walks a little slower.
He points to snowman and Santa ornaments on the tree; points out pictures in his Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer book (his current favorite book); brings me his drawing board and wants me to draw pictures of "Rudolph, Santa, Frosty, and the Christmas tree." I think everyone in the family down here has read him the Rudolph book.
(At this point I should mention that last week we went to the Greenwich tree lighting, and there was a person in a Rudolph costume there. This is before I'd got him the book. Jack was transfixed; we went up near him and I put Jack down, and Rudolph's elf helper said, "Do you want to hug Rudolph?" Jack did a little half nod and threw out his arms and went up to Rudolph and gave him a big hug. It was classic.)
One final Jack thing, not necessarily Christmas related. Last night we were sitting in the living room near the tree, and Jack started bringing us his toys. "Hold. Hold, Daddy." And then he started bringing us our shoes. And our jackets. And then he came in clutching the two basketballs we use for his hoop outside. So we're sitting there in a pile of stuff, and he's like "Be right back," and he'd come in with yet another item. Just funny.
I'm sure there are other recent things I don't want to forget -- like when he saw a picture of himself from the zoo and he said "I'm at the zoo," even though there was nothing in the picture to indicate it was at the zoo. Like when his grandma was cracking him up by saying "gook," in reference to food on his cup. And things I can't even remember, sadly, which means I really need to write this blog more than once a week.
He's a great little guy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
