Kate can be quite chatty at times. When she wakes up after a good night's sleep, for example, she'll talk for a while in her crib. It usually culminates in a, "Daddy!" Pause. "DADDY!" Longer pause. "MOMMY!"
Before she goes to sleep, she also talks at length. Today, before her nap, I heard her talking to her various stuffed toys. "You good boy, Tyrone? You good boy. You too, Austin?" Talking to her Backyardigans. When I got her after her nap, she'd lined them all up, sitting, like an audience for her nap. Funny.
Emily notes how she can't be bothered with things like prepositions. It's all, "You like waffles? I like waffles. You go gym? I go play. You have coffee? You LIKE coffee? I dohlike (it's sort of a contraction of "don't like") coffee...."
That contraction, actually, comes into use a lot. When something at dinner doesn't agree with her. "I dohlike dat....I dohlike pohtaytoes....You like pohtaytoes? I DO like dem....I dohlike dat...."
She chatters away to Jack sometimes, too. "Hi Jack....you good boy? You nap, Jack? You dohnap? I nap. You do puzzle, Jack? You do puzzle me, Jack? I do puzzle. I like puzzle...."
Folding laundry this afternoon. "I help you? I help. I fold. I folding." She stretches a sheet out on the floor and lies down on it. "I folding. I helping? I help YOU....."
Bedtime. She turns to Emily. "You put ME bed? You put me bed. You put Jack bed? Daddy put me bed? Daddy put JACK bed?" Nodding sagely. Then, "Daddy put Jack bed....You put ME bed." Happy.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Good evening
We all have our moods. Sometimes they're good, like yesterday....
I picked up Jack at school, where his class was running around the tumble room. He saw me and ran over, nearly tackling me. Happy.
We went to get Kate, who was drawing on the chalkboard when we went in. Normally she runs over to hug me. Today she glanced our way, turned back to the chalkboard, drew a few more lines. Then, apparently satisfied that her picture was complete: "Daddy! Jack!" She ran over and hugged me.
We headed up to Jack's room. Kate ran down the hallway, laughing. Jack ran after her, quickly overtaking her with his longer stride. She laughed more. We went up the stairs, and again, they both ran pell-mell down the hall to Jack's room. Oh, in the stairwell, both love the echoes, so they yell: "Hello! Echo! Hi! Daddy! Hello!"
Outside, on the way to the car, it had rained. Jack used to always stop to splash in puddles, but was holding some pictures he'd drawn (a stack of Wallace and Gromit pictures, his latest fascination). Kate, however, saw the puddles with excitement. She carefully stopped at each one, planted one foot outside the puddle, and stamped with the other one. Laughter. I put her in the car, and she noticed her pants leg was soaked. "My pants!" Yes, Kate, that's what happens.
We went home, and I started making dinner. Kate found a bag of art supplies and wanted to draw. Jack did too, so I made space at the little table. They sat next to each other, her coloring with the markers and Jack drawing -- another Wallace and Gromit, using a DVD cover I'd just taken out of the library as a go-by.
Kate rushed into the kitchen. "Yook!" she said. She held up the coloring book, where she'd colored some. "I MADE this! Yook, Daddy!" I looked, gave the appropriate praise, and she dashed off again.
Jack came in with his latest picture. "Look, Daddy!" Suddenly, he noticed it fading. He'd used one of Kate's markers, which were intended for special paper. He got briefly sad, then ran back out to the living room to trace the lines before they faded completely away.
Both inhaled their dinner. Jack laughed himself silly at a few minutes of the Wallace and Gromit DVD before going to bed. Everyone slept well.
I picked up Jack at school, where his class was running around the tumble room. He saw me and ran over, nearly tackling me. Happy.
We went to get Kate, who was drawing on the chalkboard when we went in. Normally she runs over to hug me. Today she glanced our way, turned back to the chalkboard, drew a few more lines. Then, apparently satisfied that her picture was complete: "Daddy! Jack!" She ran over and hugged me.
We headed up to Jack's room. Kate ran down the hallway, laughing. Jack ran after her, quickly overtaking her with his longer stride. She laughed more. We went up the stairs, and again, they both ran pell-mell down the hall to Jack's room. Oh, in the stairwell, both love the echoes, so they yell: "Hello! Echo! Hi! Daddy! Hello!"
Outside, on the way to the car, it had rained. Jack used to always stop to splash in puddles, but was holding some pictures he'd drawn (a stack of Wallace and Gromit pictures, his latest fascination). Kate, however, saw the puddles with excitement. She carefully stopped at each one, planted one foot outside the puddle, and stamped with the other one. Laughter. I put her in the car, and she noticed her pants leg was soaked. "My pants!" Yes, Kate, that's what happens.
We went home, and I started making dinner. Kate found a bag of art supplies and wanted to draw. Jack did too, so I made space at the little table. They sat next to each other, her coloring with the markers and Jack drawing -- another Wallace and Gromit, using a DVD cover I'd just taken out of the library as a go-by.
Kate rushed into the kitchen. "Yook!" she said. She held up the coloring book, where she'd colored some. "I MADE this! Yook, Daddy!" I looked, gave the appropriate praise, and she dashed off again.
Jack came in with his latest picture. "Look, Daddy!" Suddenly, he noticed it fading. He'd used one of Kate's markers, which were intended for special paper. He got briefly sad, then ran back out to the living room to trace the lines before they faded completely away.
Both inhaled their dinner. Jack laughed himself silly at a few minutes of the Wallace and Gromit DVD before going to bed. Everyone slept well.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Pirate Day
We showed Jack highlight from the Olympics. He watched the snowboarders' leaps and stunts. "That's COOL!" he said. He demonstrated the moves by leaping up in the air and turning around, landing fairly impressively on all fours.
I told Jack it would be Pirate Day. We'd talk like pirates, draw pictures of pirates, and make swords and hats.
Jack decided as part of our Special Pirate Day, we should go to Dunkin' Donuts. He drew a treasure map to help guide us there. He rolled it up and carried it tightly in his fist on the walk.
The kids played at the table, making faces at each other. "I see you," said Kate. "I see YOU," said Jack. Laughter. Kate looked through the donut on her plate to see the picture of Tasha underneath. "I see Tasha," she said.
I want to call this day 'Dunkin Pirates Day'," said Jack.
Jack and I did the pirate ship puzzle. Kate watched the Pirate Treasure episode of Backyardigans.
We sent an email to Mommy.
We made pirate hats out of newspaper. Kate seemed very pleased to have hers, even though she couldn't keep it on for more than a few seconds at a time.
We watched the Phineas and Ferb episode with a pirate theme, the "Ballad of Badbeard."
We made pirate swords out of cardboard. Jack decorated them with fearsome skull and crossbones images, and wrote our names on them. Just like real pirates, I imagine.
I told Jack it would be Pirate Day. We'd talk like pirates, draw pictures of pirates, and make swords and hats.
Jack decided as part of our Special Pirate Day, we should go to Dunkin' Donuts. He drew a treasure map to help guide us there. He rolled it up and carried it tightly in his fist on the walk.
The kids played at the table, making faces at each other. "I see you," said Kate. "I see YOU," said Jack. Laughter. Kate looked through the donut on her plate to see the picture of Tasha underneath. "I see Tasha," she said.
I want to call this day 'Dunkin Pirates Day'," said Jack.
Jack and I did the pirate ship puzzle. Kate watched the Pirate Treasure episode of Backyardigans.
We sent an email to Mommy.
We made pirate hats out of newspaper. Kate seemed very pleased to have hers, even though she couldn't keep it on for more than a few seconds at a time.
We watched the Phineas and Ferb episode with a pirate theme, the "Ballad of Badbeard."
We made pirate swords out of cardboard. Jack decorated them with fearsome skull and crossbones images, and wrote our names on them. Just like real pirates, I imagine.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Two from Jack today
I observed that I had a headache. Jack said, "What's a headache?"
I said, oh, it's when my head hurts.
Jack said, "My head never hurts. My head is the strongest part of my body." Pause.
"Well, except for my hands, they're also strong."
__________________________________
Later on:
Out of the blue, Jack says, "I have my pants on backwards!"
I said, oh, it's when my head hurts.
Jack said, "My head never hurts. My head is the strongest part of my body." Pause.
"Well, except for my hands, they're also strong."
__________________________________
Later on:
Out of the blue, Jack says, "I have my pants on backwards!"
Monday, February 15, 2010
Games with Jack
We're a game family -- board games, primarily. Seems Jack is too.
On Sunday, when Emily and I went shopping, Jack played games with Baba. We came back to find that they'd played Yahtzee, Sorry, and Battleship over the past hour. They were still playing Battleship, with Baba twisted on the floor like a pretzel, peering over at Jack's board, explaining to him how to play. Later, I saw the Yahtzee scoresheet. It appeared they were basically just rolling out dice, adding them all up, and Jack was recording the numbers. So it was JACK 23, BABA 17, in Jack's blocky capital letters, and underneath JACK 87, BABA 76, and so forth; he wrote each name each time.
Later, Baba was playing Solitaire at the computer. Jack was at his elbow; Baba was explaining how to play.
I can remember having to tell Jack to say goodbye to Nana and Baba; reminding him to give them hugs and all that. Today, as we left, he did it on his own.
On Sunday, when Emily and I went shopping, Jack played games with Baba. We came back to find that they'd played Yahtzee, Sorry, and Battleship over the past hour. They were still playing Battleship, with Baba twisted on the floor like a pretzel, peering over at Jack's board, explaining to him how to play. Later, I saw the Yahtzee scoresheet. It appeared they were basically just rolling out dice, adding them all up, and Jack was recording the numbers. So it was JACK 23, BABA 17, in Jack's blocky capital letters, and underneath JACK 87, BABA 76, and so forth; he wrote each name each time.
Later, Baba was playing Solitaire at the computer. Jack was at his elbow; Baba was explaining how to play.
I can remember having to tell Jack to say goodbye to Nana and Baba; reminding him to give them hugs and all that. Today, as we left, he did it on his own.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Kate and Molly
Got to Vermont today, for the first time in about 6 months. Naturally Kate had forgotten all about Molly, and her experience with dogs is limited, so when she saw her, she was afraid. She clung to us and wailed fearfully if Molly approached, or if we got too close to her.
That went on for about an hour or two. Kate would play happily in the living room, Molly would wander in, or Kate would suddenly encounter Molly near the kitchen, and she'd cry and run for us.
Shortly after dinner, Kate decided she wasn't going to be afraid any more. So she stood in the kitchen, a few feet away from Molly, and said, "Hi!" And then, "Hi, Molly. Molly! I'm Hi-ing you! Molly! Hi!" Turns to look at us. "I hi-ed Molly! I hi-ed her! Molly! Hi, Molly!"
Molly, befuddled by this change of events, tried to hide under the table. Kate knelt down near her. "Hi!" she yelled toward her. "Hi, Molly!"
Turns to look at us again. "I'm Hi-ing her!"
Jack, who realizes fully that Molly is essentially a lumpy rug, sits next to her and pets her. He encouraged Kate to come over and pet her. She wasn't ready to actually touch her, but she did kneel very close to her. "Hi, Molly!" she said.
Jack brought out plastic bones and other toys that Molly has no interest in. Kate did the same. Molly left the room. "Bye, Molly!" says Kate.
That went on for about an hour or two. Kate would play happily in the living room, Molly would wander in, or Kate would suddenly encounter Molly near the kitchen, and she'd cry and run for us.
Shortly after dinner, Kate decided she wasn't going to be afraid any more. So she stood in the kitchen, a few feet away from Molly, and said, "Hi!" And then, "Hi, Molly. Molly! I'm Hi-ing you! Molly! Hi!" Turns to look at us. "I hi-ed Molly! I hi-ed her! Molly! Hi, Molly!"
Molly, befuddled by this change of events, tried to hide under the table. Kate knelt down near her. "Hi!" she yelled toward her. "Hi, Molly!"
Turns to look at us again. "I'm Hi-ing her!"
Jack, who realizes fully that Molly is essentially a lumpy rug, sits next to her and pets her. He encouraged Kate to come over and pet her. She wasn't ready to actually touch her, but she did kneel very close to her. "Hi, Molly!" she said.
Jack brought out plastic bones and other toys that Molly has no interest in. Kate did the same. Molly left the room. "Bye, Molly!" says Kate.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
winter
So it was snowing out this morning, a lot, and everyone was home, so the critical goal of the day is building a snowman. First there was breakfast, TV, and probably a puzzle or two, and then it was time to suit up and build the thing.
To their credit, the kids didn't take much coaxing. Both agreeably let me help them into snowpants, boots -- actually it was sad, Kate got her boots on by herself, and was so proud, but I had to take them off to get the snowpants on -- jackets, hats, gloves, etc. Jack had his own complication, he wanted to put his jacket on before the snowpants, So anyway, I got them suited up, then went to look for my own snowpants, boots, et al. Then put Kate's hat and gloves back on.
We got outside and were hit with a wall of wind and snow. It was still snowing, and the wind was strong. Kate: "Pick me up!" She extended her arms to emphasize it. I picked her up and we struggled into the backyard. I put her down, explaining there was a snowman to be made. She stood in place, grudgingly.
Jack traipsed around a bit. I started making the snowman's body, then started another for his head, which Jack finished. We did a pretty good job. Emily came out. Kate raised her arms to her. I went in to get a hat, gloves, and scarf for the snowman. Jack helped me find twigs and rocks for its features. Oh yeah, Emily brought a carrot, which Kate showed interest in. No, Kate, it's the snowman's nose, not a snack.
We built the snowman. At this point Kate no longer wanted to go in. She pointed and smiled. "Snowman!" Jack and I debated building a snowdog or something, but ended up just throwing snowballs at each other. Mine hit him in the legs. His snowball blasted me in the face from 4 feet away. I fell over, at least somewhat playing.
When we went inside, they both said "Bye, snowman." Jack actually yelled from the door. "BYE, SNOWMAN!!!!"
During Kate's nap, Jack and I went outside again. We played around in the snow, then went in the backyard. Again I considered making a snow dog, but it wasn't working. We made a serpent, kind of, but it too wasn't that great. The snow wasn't quite as sticky as would have been ideal. Jack took the serpent idea and started making little hills in the yard. I asked him why, and he said, "I'm making mountains." Then, "Let's make them all over the yard." I said, uh, why? And he said, "Because." He made 3 more and then said, "I don't want to make mountains anymore."
The wind picked up so we went inside.
To their credit, the kids didn't take much coaxing. Both agreeably let me help them into snowpants, boots -- actually it was sad, Kate got her boots on by herself, and was so proud, but I had to take them off to get the snowpants on -- jackets, hats, gloves, etc. Jack had his own complication, he wanted to put his jacket on before the snowpants, So anyway, I got them suited up, then went to look for my own snowpants, boots, et al. Then put Kate's hat and gloves back on.
We got outside and were hit with a wall of wind and snow. It was still snowing, and the wind was strong. Kate: "Pick me up!" She extended her arms to emphasize it. I picked her up and we struggled into the backyard. I put her down, explaining there was a snowman to be made. She stood in place, grudgingly.
Jack traipsed around a bit. I started making the snowman's body, then started another for his head, which Jack finished. We did a pretty good job. Emily came out. Kate raised her arms to her. I went in to get a hat, gloves, and scarf for the snowman. Jack helped me find twigs and rocks for its features. Oh yeah, Emily brought a carrot, which Kate showed interest in. No, Kate, it's the snowman's nose, not a snack.
We built the snowman. At this point Kate no longer wanted to go in. She pointed and smiled. "Snowman!" Jack and I debated building a snowdog or something, but ended up just throwing snowballs at each other. Mine hit him in the legs. His snowball blasted me in the face from 4 feet away. I fell over, at least somewhat playing.
When we went inside, they both said "Bye, snowman." Jack actually yelled from the door. "BYE, SNOWMAN!!!!"
During Kate's nap, Jack and I went outside again. We played around in the snow, then went in the backyard. Again I considered making a snow dog, but it wasn't working. We made a serpent, kind of, but it too wasn't that great. The snow wasn't quite as sticky as would have been ideal. Jack took the serpent idea and started making little hills in the yard. I asked him why, and he said, "I'm making mountains." Then, "Let's make them all over the yard." I said, uh, why? And he said, "Because." He made 3 more and then said, "I don't want to make mountains anymore."
The wind picked up so we went inside.
Friday, February 05, 2010
Real-time Friday
6 a.m. We go get Kate out of bed. She first made noise around 5:30, I guess. Maybe earlier. We don't get her before 6, but she often wakes up earlier. We've tried various things to get her to sleep later, putting her to bed later or earlier, but the best solution appears to be curtailing her midday nap. Shorter naps have had her sleeping late. Of course, waking her up from a nap after she's been up since 5 a.m. also has its drawbacks. Jack also wakes up around this time, either because of Kate making noise or just because.
6:30 a.m. Downstairs, Jack doing a puzzle. Kate messes it up. We tell her to say Sorry; she doesn't. I make coffee, she comes in wanting breakfast. I say, first tell Jack you're sorry. She refuses, so I refuse breakfast. Five minutes later, she gets up, walks into the living room, walks up to Jack and holds her arms out for a hug. "Sorry, Jack," she says. It's a nice moment. Then she offers him her hand. "Breakfast?" They walk hand in hand to the kitchen for breakfast.
6:45 a.m. Breakfast is eaten, Jack and I finish his puzzle. A debate ensues over what to watch on TV. Kate has found the Finding Nemo VHS and wants to watch it, but Jack's not a fan. Something about all the scary stuff early on, which I kind of understand his feelings on. We settle on Madagascar, enabling Daddy to do a little work and drink lots of coffee without interruption.
9 a.m. Second breakfast. We have this because this is when I have my first breakfast, and me eating food prompts them to be hungry too. Waffles, bagels, bananas, it's a smorgasbord.
10 a.m. Jack plays with his castle and Kate plays with the pirate ship. Like talking to a pitcher during a no-hitter, I'm afraid to mention it further.
11 a.m. We play with Bakugan toys. Well, Jack and I do, while Kate uses the toy Dr.s equipment to check my ears and give me a shot. I get a bandaid, then she jams the thermometer into my teeth. Painfully. I guess I'm glad it wasn't my eye.
11:30 a.m. We're still playing with medical equipment. Kate takes my temperature with great enthusiasm. Jack does the same, and says, "uh-oh, Daddy." He shows me the thermometer with the wheel turned to sad face. I say, oh no. He says, wait! And checks it again, then turns it to happy face. Guess I'm OK.
12 noon. Lunch. Both eat yogurt. I give Kate avocado and tuna fish, the latter of which she doesn't eat, naturally. She takes one dainty, Kate mouth-sized bite. "No like," she says. I eat the rest. I make Jack a turkey burger, because there's leftover from last night. He grudgingly, eventually, eats it. It will be easier at afternoon snack when I'll offer them an apple, and they'll greedily wolf it down.
At lunch, Kate sings, a combination of Twinkle Twinkle and Itsy Bitsy Spider. She kind of mishmashes lines of different songs together, which is funny on its own, plus Jack corrects her. "Kate! It's not itsy bitsy STAR! It's Twinkle twinkle little star, and Itsy Bitsy Spider!" She says OK, sheepishly, but continues on with it anyway. Jack sighs and looks at me.
12:30 p.m. We play with blocks. Jack wants to make cannons, so we do that for a bit. Then he wants to make a dragon, so we do that too. Kate brings out one of her dolls, a baby (used to be Emily's, looks like a cabbage patch kid. Pretty cute). We spend 10 minutes putting her hat on...taking it off...putting it on.
1 p.m. It's time to put Kate down for a nap. "Not now, soon," she says. For Kate, "soon" is some distant point in the future. Even though she could barely keep her eyes open at around 10 or so. I say, yes, very soon.
1:15 p.m. Kate is standing near the couch, leaning back, sucking her thumb. I've been trying to get her to stop, at least at times not associated with wanting to sleep. Now, of course, she wants to sleep. So up she goes. I put her down on the changing table to check her diaper. "No, I'm good!" she says. "I'm GOOD." This is a phrase she's picked up from us. Turns out she is good. And tired.
1:30 p.m. Jack and I play with his cars a little bit, then I let him watch this short DVD that came with one of his toys -- basically a 10-minute commercial for Imaginext toys. I've now got the theme song stuck in my head. As he watches, I write this.
Jack wants to draw a picture of his dragon, using the DVD picture as a guide. I'm going to go watch.
6:30 a.m. Downstairs, Jack doing a puzzle. Kate messes it up. We tell her to say Sorry; she doesn't. I make coffee, she comes in wanting breakfast. I say, first tell Jack you're sorry. She refuses, so I refuse breakfast. Five minutes later, she gets up, walks into the living room, walks up to Jack and holds her arms out for a hug. "Sorry, Jack," she says. It's a nice moment. Then she offers him her hand. "Breakfast?" They walk hand in hand to the kitchen for breakfast.
6:45 a.m. Breakfast is eaten, Jack and I finish his puzzle. A debate ensues over what to watch on TV. Kate has found the Finding Nemo VHS and wants to watch it, but Jack's not a fan. Something about all the scary stuff early on, which I kind of understand his feelings on. We settle on Madagascar, enabling Daddy to do a little work and drink lots of coffee without interruption.
9 a.m. Second breakfast. We have this because this is when I have my first breakfast, and me eating food prompts them to be hungry too. Waffles, bagels, bananas, it's a smorgasbord.
10 a.m. Jack plays with his castle and Kate plays with the pirate ship. Like talking to a pitcher during a no-hitter, I'm afraid to mention it further.
11 a.m. We play with Bakugan toys. Well, Jack and I do, while Kate uses the toy Dr.s equipment to check my ears and give me a shot. I get a bandaid, then she jams the thermometer into my teeth. Painfully. I guess I'm glad it wasn't my eye.
11:30 a.m. We're still playing with medical equipment. Kate takes my temperature with great enthusiasm. Jack does the same, and says, "uh-oh, Daddy." He shows me the thermometer with the wheel turned to sad face. I say, oh no. He says, wait! And checks it again, then turns it to happy face. Guess I'm OK.
12 noon. Lunch. Both eat yogurt. I give Kate avocado and tuna fish, the latter of which she doesn't eat, naturally. She takes one dainty, Kate mouth-sized bite. "No like," she says. I eat the rest. I make Jack a turkey burger, because there's leftover from last night. He grudgingly, eventually, eats it. It will be easier at afternoon snack when I'll offer them an apple, and they'll greedily wolf it down.
At lunch, Kate sings, a combination of Twinkle Twinkle and Itsy Bitsy Spider. She kind of mishmashes lines of different songs together, which is funny on its own, plus Jack corrects her. "Kate! It's not itsy bitsy STAR! It's Twinkle twinkle little star, and Itsy Bitsy Spider!" She says OK, sheepishly, but continues on with it anyway. Jack sighs and looks at me.
12:30 p.m. We play with blocks. Jack wants to make cannons, so we do that for a bit. Then he wants to make a dragon, so we do that too. Kate brings out one of her dolls, a baby (used to be Emily's, looks like a cabbage patch kid. Pretty cute). We spend 10 minutes putting her hat on...taking it off...putting it on.
1 p.m. It's time to put Kate down for a nap. "Not now, soon," she says. For Kate, "soon" is some distant point in the future. Even though she could barely keep her eyes open at around 10 or so. I say, yes, very soon.
1:15 p.m. Kate is standing near the couch, leaning back, sucking her thumb. I've been trying to get her to stop, at least at times not associated with wanting to sleep. Now, of course, she wants to sleep. So up she goes. I put her down on the changing table to check her diaper. "No, I'm good!" she says. "I'm GOOD." This is a phrase she's picked up from us. Turns out she is good. And tired.
1:30 p.m. Jack and I play with his cars a little bit, then I let him watch this short DVD that came with one of his toys -- basically a 10-minute commercial for Imaginext toys. I've now got the theme song stuck in my head. As he watches, I write this.
Jack wants to draw a picture of his dragon, using the DVD picture as a guide. I'm going to go watch.
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