Adventures in Parenting

Overheard today, as Elisabeth spun in circles:

"I want to fly, high in the sky . . . just like a pigeon. I want to be just like a pigeon."

She continued for a few more ad lib stanzas and added:

" . . . or maybe an eagle."

Last night Elisabeth spent the night with our friends (who also happen to be our downstairs neighbors). I returned from the hospital at about 3:45am and crashed on the futon, and didn't see Elisabeth until her perky face roused me from slumber.

Since we hadn't divulged her sister's name to her before the birth, I asked her, "What do you think your sister's name is?"
"Kate!" she quickly replied.
"Very close," I said, "her name is Katherine Mae. Who do you think named her?"
"Mommy," Elisabeth replied.
"Who else?" I prompted.
"Aunt Kate?" she tried.
I tried a different tack: "Who do you think named you?"
"Mom and Dad!" she replied.

Today I set up the bassinet for our expected little girl. (No, she's not due until the end of February; but when Elisabeth was born, I was not ready in advance, so I'm starting earlier this time.) When I got it all put together, Elisabeth said,

"You can put it in my room. I want to share my room with my sister."

That warms my heart.

A conversation this afternoon:

E: Dad!

D: Can you say that with a whiny voice?

E: [Whiny] Da-a-ad!

D: Well done. Why can you do that whiny voice so well?

E: Because I'm a girl!

Elisabeth has renamed two body parts, one as airports and the other as nozzles. Any guesses on what your airports and nozzles are?

From the kitchen, I overheard Elisabeth:

"I . . . I . . and . . . the . . . play . . . make . . ."

She was reading . . . all of the words she recognized.

Recently we picked up a book of poetry by Shel Silverstein at our local library. We devoured most of the book in the first day. I read Elisabeth Smart:

My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more than one!

Then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes - I guess he don't know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head -
Too proud of me to speak!

The humor of the poem was entirely lost on Elisabeth. She told me that she didn't want her dollar bill. "It takes up too much space. I like the coins better." So we've been playing coin games during our math sessions this week. Elisabeth still thinks that paper money isn't as good as coins - but at least now she's beginning to understand that 1 can be more than 5, when the 1 is a dollar and the 5 are pennies.

Yesterday, Elisabeth received a Smart Globe for her birthday.

You can use the "smart pen" to tap any place on the globe (or pull out map of the United States) and learn about just about anything you would want to know about that place. (It even updates the content from the internet via a usb cable.) Elisabeth thinks it is fantastic. (Thanks Pop-pop!)

So last night she said,

"Daddy, can we just do the learning about states part of family worship?"

A conversation yesterday:

Elisabeth: Dad, what do you want to give me for Christmas?
Dad: A hug.
E: What else do you want to give me?
D: A kiss.
E: What do you want to give me that can go in a stocking?

Elisabeth does not often travel by car. Today we spent about 2 hours in the car, and Elisabeth summed up her experience in a single sentence:

"I'm hungry, tired, thirsty and I need to go to the toilet."

Last night, Elisabeth tried out an ultimatum on us:

"If you don't give me dessert now I'll never eat dessert again!"

I think that tops the list of idle threats.

Today Elisabeth and I began reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (from the same copy my parents read to me as a child). As Lucy pushed through the wardrobe into Narnia, I paused to ask Elisabeth, "What do you think the cold, soft stuff is that she felt under her feet?" She replied, "Maybe snow or rain . . . but she's in a closet!"

We continued reading the account of Lucy wandering out to the lamp post and meeting Tumnus, the faun. Elisabeth listened with great interest to the description of Tumnus. She asked me repeatedly of this selection, "Is this real? Is Lucy pretending?" I said, "She's not pretending, she has really stepped into another world," at which Elisabeth's face lit up with excitement. However, she found a way to reframe her question about Tumnus. After asking, "Is he real?" and receiving the answer that he is, and is not just Lucy's imagination, she asked, "Is he real in our neighborhood?"

What a brilliant way for a child to embrace and understand fantasy - while distinguishing it from "our neighborhood."

This morning I put my backpack on the counter and knocked the coffee canister off the counter and onto the floor where the top broke off, spilling beans everywhere. I looked at it and said, "I don't think I can fix this, because the top broke right off."

Without missing a beat, Elisabeth suggested:

"How about Gorilla Glue?"

Clearly one of us is smarter than the other.

Last night's conversation:

Elisabeth: "Maybe I'll be taller than you when I'm six."

Mommy: "Probably not when you're six."

Elisabeth: "Then maybe when I'm seven or eight."

Tonight, lying in bed, Elisabeth said to me:

"My back likes to be scratched."

It is not unlike what she would say when she was only one year old (to try to keep us from leaving the room:

"Skatch my back!"