On The Road With Anna

Anna and I went to Rochester to say goodbye to my Grandma. It is a trip no one ever wants to make, but Anna, as usual, always makes the best out of things.
Even when she has no idea she is doing it.
--

To make a long story short: our first attempt to get to Rochester involved driving with all three of the children. Jack made short work of that idea by managing to throw up twice before we crossed the George Washington Bridge. At that point, Mommy unilaterally invoked (at least the idea of a) Plan B. After an extended cleanup at a Palisades Parkway rest stop, the family car did a quick U-turn back towards the relatively rose-scented shores of Manhattan.

Which is why Anna and I ended up flying to Rochester and coming back the next day. She said some truly amazing things:

• Overheard by everyone standing in the very, very long line at the Jet Blue women's bathroom:
  
  "Hold your pee, Mommy, it's not our turn!"
  
  She said this very, very loudly.
  This after complaining for at least five minutes about (1) the fact that she did NOT have to go to the bathroom and then following it up with (2) the fact that there was a line. And then she tried to make me look like the flaky one.
  
  
• For a brief, very brief moment, I thought that, perhaps, Anna favoring Jack might be waning a bit. As it turns out, Anna was just being practical, and is still very much partial.
  
  "I want to travel with just Thomas.
  [Wow! all right! I am good!]
  Because he doesn't get 'the sickness' in the car."
  
  
• And then, back to old form as far as Jack. But this time on the sly:
  
  "Hey Mommy, I am very good at carrying around dark-haired little boys..."
  

--
And then, before bed: "Mommy, I can't find heaven on my globe."
Sigh.

Why Jack Is Smarter Than I Am

(1) It's morning. It's early. Or late. I can't remember.
Anyway, for some reason I am sitting on the floor with my bowl of Grape Nuts watching Thomas and Jack watch Blues Clues.

This, of course, lasts for about 5 seconds, at which point the brothers get a whiff of that (surprisingly aromatic) cold cereal. They pounce. They both love Grape Nuts. We do the communal spoon thing. Quite a bonding moment. Tiny Grape Nut nuts everywhere.

After about two spoonfuls, Jack stops and runs to the kitchen. I hear a drawer open. I hear rustling in the 'kid tableware' drawer. Cups are tumbling. Bowls are clanking.
At this point, I choose to apply what I refer to as my '3-child-Zen-groggy-brain' technique (thank you, Uma), in the form of:
Hmnnn, what's the worse that could happen?

... and just try to enjoy the sound of plastic cups and spoons being scattered about.
After a while, I hear the drawer close.
Then Jack is back. He hands me one of Anna's breakfast trays (think multiple compartments for cereal, yogurt, fruit, etc) and points to the table. Good idea, buddy.

(2) Have you read Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do you Hear?
I was reading it to the boys the other night. When we got to the page about the hippopotamus, I read it with the usual gusto. Did you know that "the sound" that hippos make is a 'snort'? Yep. And so I dutifully did my best snort.
And then, for the first time ever, Jack looked at me, literally tossed his head back, and delivered an absolutely perfect 'snort-snort'.
He was really proud of himself; it was cute. I just really hope this doesn't mean that he is going to be one of those guys who tries to impress girls by burping.

(3) We were just snapping photos at the playgroud one day. I didn't notice anything unusual. Tonite I happened to be looking at the photos and, of course, this sequence caught my eye.

On behalf of Anna, I think I need to explain--Anna is a champion layerer. In this photo, she is wearing a sweater, a dress, a shirt under the dress, tights, pants and a skirt between the dress and the pants. I have no doubt that when she sat down to 'drive the wheel', all that bulk caught up with her and she just moved it to the rear. I have to say that I'm slightly embarrassed that I didn't notice and help her a bit.
But clearly Jack did.
Now I'm not exactly sure if this belongs under the 'Jack is smarter than me (er, I mean I)' heading, but I suppose it at least makes him more observant.
And hopefully not alarmingly fresh as far as the ladies are concerned.

The Racket

Jack and Thomas see something they like.
Something they think is cool.
Jack's the front man; he grabs it when you're not looking. In this categrory might be things like babysitter Meredith's leather belt, or Ella's dad's shoehorn, or the hairclip that Mommy is curently wearing in her hair. They're all his now.

And this is when he passes them over to Tommy, who does the dirty work behind, or in this case "underneath" the scenes--Tommy attempts to shove each of these objects underneath large household furniture or appliances.

Many often never to be heard from again.
Others to be sold on the urbanbaby black market...

And who'd want to mess with these two wiseguys to try to get their stuff back? Not me, I assure you.
(Teddy bear shirt nothwithstanding...)

The (Mon-Wed-Fri) Ladies Of The Brownstone School

I have been meaning to post this sooner, but here they are in all their Princess slipper greatness--Anna and her school buddies.

What's In You

Well, if Gatorade is asking, Anna knows for sure.

After a fantastic birthday party for her friend Katharine wheere they did all kinds of gymnastics and tumbling, Anna was pretty sure about where her skills lie. She told me:

"I have imagination [dramatic sweep of finger up towards her brain]
and balance [dramatic knee bend into crouch position]
inside my body."

Wow. I mean, she did tell me that she had made it across the balance beam with no helping hands, and that she and Sam were the first ones to climb up into something called a 'volcano'. Sounds impressive, eh?

She has since amended her statement; something called 'creations'(creativity?) is now on the list as well. Stay tuned.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

In the last month or so, for the first time ever, Anna has made some announcements:

• "When I grow up, I want to be a fish collector.
  I want to work at the fish store."
  (Hmmnn. All this as we comtemplate laying out, uh, 25K for a NYC Kindergarten education) Gee, I'm really glad that Petco opened that store up on 92nd & Broadway. At least we'll know she's nearby.
  

• "I want to be an astronaut so that I can see the earth when I am 36.
  And I'll go with my brothers when they are 21."

• Every night while we are putting on the brother's pajamas, we are required to close the door completely.
  So that Anna can knock on the outside of the door, and we can say 'Come in!'.
  So that Anna can announce that she is the baby nurse and that she is "an expert at taking care of babies". As in: "When they cry, I can give them things!"
  By far the best part of this routine is the alter-egos she selects in the form of her name. They all see to be some variation of 'Freya', who happens to be the very nice lady who plays the piano during Anna's ballet class. Who we have never spoken to except during the 'hello' song at the beginning of class.
  Nonetheless: in the past few weeks the name of the friendly brother baby nurse knocking at our door has been Freya, Fernanda, Frendita and Frendada to name a few. I keep asking about her sister Frittata--what's she been up to? I've heard she a good egg.
  heh heh.
  Anna doesn't get it.
  

So... fish 'collector' (impossible to tell at this point if PETA will be protesting in front of our home or not), astronaut, or baby nurse. Not a bad start at all.

The Ice(Cream)Man Cometh

And not a hint of despair here!
Anna has spotted the truck at least three times now in the last two weeks, despite the fact that last weekend also brought us several inches of snow.

Yes, indeed: spring is here.

We Are Now Accepting Requests

... for the 2007 Summer Vacation session.

Get on our calendar early, as it is likely we'll be booked up and you definitely do not want to miss out on this kind of fun, fashion, and athleticism all rolled into one preschool-sized package.

We bring all our own summer equipment (as you can see) and travel extremely well as long as goldfish and a portable DVD player are provided. Don't miss out!

Thomas is From Mars, Jack is From Venus

Let's all go outside for a walk!
Great! Here, Thomas, I'll get you all ready and then you stand next to me by the door and wait while I get Jack all suited up.

Thomas stood by the front door for upwards of one minute while I was getting Jack's hat, coat, and shoes on. Thomas cried, moaned and wailed that the door wasn't open.

Finally, I finished getting Jack ready.
Jack walked right over to the door, opened it, and immediately ran down the hall.

ps Thomas *knows* how to open the door, by the way. He just didn't.
I suppose that makes him at the same time (1) a better listener and (2) a bigger whiner than Jack. I can't tell if I think that this is a good thing.

Saturday In The Park

Uh, that would be last Saturday, by the way. Today was decidedly slushier.

The Birth Of The Modern, Part II

By way of context, here's my little chain of after-dinner disciplinary outcomes:
- If you hit Jack on the head, you go to timeout.
- If you refuse to go to timeout, you go to your room and to bed. Right away.

Sure enough, Jack got bopped on the head, Anna refused to go to timeout, I carried Anna up to her room screaming, she freaked out with Daddy and I for some time but eventually was in bed well before 7PM.

The next morning I tried to go over everything with her. I wanted to make sure that she understood how everything had happened. And OK I'll admit--basically, I never wanted to go through all that again.

Me: Anna, if you hit Jack, you will have to go to timeout.
Anna: OK, Mommy.
Me: If you won't go to timeout, you will have to go to your room and go right to bed.
Anna: OK, Mommy.
[pause]
Anna: [big smile] And if I don't go to my room, then I can come down and play!"

Hmmnnn. Think we're making progress here?

Anna Quotes

I have to say, the hits are coming fast and furious at this point. Here's a sample:

• A very good friend of Anna's gave her the book Not Norman: A Goldfish Story as a particularly personal and thoughtful item in his birthday party's goody bag.
  Norman is a fish. Norman's owner got the fish for his birthday, but what he really wanted was a real pet (like a dog), or even a cat, or a ferret or anything--just not Norman. He decides that he wants to trade Norman in for some other pet. But not before learning a valuable life lesson and deciding to keep Norman for his uniquely lovable qualities.
  All in all, a great book. Anna really seemed to like it.
  Maybe this is why:
  "Mommy, can we take Thomas in to the pet store and trade him in for a real pet?"
  
  
• Anna and Jenny were headed to Cole's house last week. Anna was whining. Big time. So I used the old standby 'Now what is Cole going to say when you show up at his house whining like this...', etc, etc. She looked at me like I was a complete simpleton and let me in on the master plan:
  "Mommy, I'm going to stop whining when I get to Cole's!"
  Ah.
  
  
• Today was a big day. A birthday party for one of Anna's good friends from school. I can't remember the exact context of this quote, but at one point this morning Anna looked up from wrapping the present and announced:
  "I use lip balm. I wear it so that I will have moist lips..."
  
  
• Anna likes to set the table. She is very focused on it. So I've tried to give her some insight into the whole serving spoons/soup spoons and dinner forks/dessert forks concepts. I think she gets it.
  She now refers to the serving spoons as 'uppercase spoons' and the soup ones as 'lowercase spoons'. Ditto for forks.
  
  
• Do you remember that period of life when your little sister would make up jokes and then tell you them? Over and over? I do. And Anna is officially in the "joke-making" stage. Here's her latest gem:
  "Thomas is a giraffe."
  [cue fantastic smile] "I made a joke."
  "Heh heh."
  
  
• Some words that Anna tosses around: amazing, frustrated, interesting, "in general" and scrambled.
  
  

Let's Call A Spade A Spade

Anna: "Daddy, what do you do at work?"
Steve: "Well, I... talk to people. I get ideas."

Anna: "Well... are you going to make some money?"

Our Lips Are Sealed

Really, A. We won't tell anyone about your very 'Go-Go's-esque' big hair days. Really.

For the record, there was no hair spray involved here. This hair just happened. And when I asked her about the hose, she told me that was her microphone. The Sesame Street Platinum: All Time Favorites Album was playing. It all makes sense.

The Day. The Fiiiiiiiish-y Died.

That's right. Nemo is dead. It was a good, happy seven months.
A moment of silence, please.

And let's not get into any blame games here: it is nothing more than an extremely sad and unfortunate coincidence that this happened so soon after her brother's venture into his tank.

So I had a long talk with Anna about all this. I think she got it.
I told her we loved Nemo and took care of him, but sometimes fish get sick and then they die.
I told her when things die, they can't come back anymore.
I told her we should send Nemo back to the ocean, where he belongs.

I told her we should flush him down the toilet.

She leveled her gaze at me for several seconds. I waited. I had nothing else. I kept thinking: what would Calvin's Daddy (see below) say at a time like this?

Fortunately, her mental process was evidently more focused on the likelihood that, at long last, she would finally be able to really use the little net that came with her magnetic fishing game, as opposed to any lengthy existential discovery process.

She asked me if we could use her net to get him out, I said yes, and she was thrilled.
We dumped him in the toilet, said a few kind words, and then she flushed him.

When Steve came home that night and asked her about him, her summary went like this:
He died. We put him in the toilet. Can we get another one?

Phew! Kudos to Mommy for evidently avoiding any long-term emotional scars...

--

Calvin and Hobbes: best comic ever. Calvin's Daddy comes up with imaginative explanations for natural phenomena that Ptolemy would be proud of. Calvin (at 5 or 6 years) and his Dad also have some fantastic 'intellectual' exchanges. Here's one given on Wiki:

Calvin: "Dad, are you vicariously living through me in the hope that my accomplishments will validate your mediocre life and in some way compensate for all of the opportunities you botched?"

Calvin's father: "If I were, you can bet I'd be re-evaluating my strategy."

Calvin (later, to his mother): "Mom, Dad keeps insulting me."

The Finer Points Of Peek-A-Boo

Here we go:

1. Don't allow the person you're trying to surprise to see and hear you as you start to run all the way across the open expanse of living room (granted this is a New York City apartment but still--you're surrendering the element of visual surprise here) while shouting at the top of your lungs.
2. Uh... try to find something, anything to hide behind (even if just for a second) before you get right in your target's face and finally yell 'BOO!'.
   

I am sure, at some point soon, Thomas will realize the ineffectiveness of his current strategy.
But don't worry--as our longtime readers may recall, we have worked through these kinds of issues before.

Have I Mentioned That She Can Pump?

Hello, spring!
Anna can swing.

By herself.
As of today.

Double Jepoardy

Let me tell a little crime story here.
Thomas and Jack climb everywhere. But more than anywhere else, where they want to climb is onto the window ledge. There are lots of interesting things up there--the newspaper bin, the HVAC unit controls, and, of course, Anna's fish tank.

This is how I caught them this morning (see photo left). Jack I could have easily charged with ' unauthorized button pressing with intent to randomize climate control', while Tommy was definitely in 'reckless endangerment (acquatic-style)' territory. Clearly, these guys were guilty. I mean, just look at their faces when they found out they'd been caught (see photo right). You can just feel the remorse.

At any rate, I wasn't into anything cruel and unusual this early in the morning (note the lack of any daylight whatsoever in the background) so I decided to let them off easy. I knocked their charges down to ' Didn't listen to Mommy. Not at all.' plus some time served in time-out. And I think their little stint there went a long way towards teaching them a lesson.

I mean: look at Tommy (see photo below). It was daytime before I let the kid out of there. We had put him in the blue prison sweats and everything, just for effect.

But, honestly, you never really can tell with kids. And so, later in the morning, when I discovered them both squatting next to fish tank and watched as Tommy pulled the cover off and Jack leaned in for the catch, I have to say I was a bit surprised. I didn't even think to grab my camera...

If This Isn't Fabulous

... then I just don't know what is.
Have I mentioned that Jack loves accessories?

He also loves to brush the hair of anyone who will submit to his slightly aggressive grooming techniques (think Norman Bates meets Frédéric Fekkai. Eee! Eee! Eee!). We definitely keep any hard bristles and all combs away from Jack.

I have always thought that the hair brushing was really cute.
Until about a week ago, when he was brushing my hair.
After his bath.
Before I had had a chance to get his diaper on.
And let me tell you: as soon as I felt the creeping dampness on back of my shirt, I swore to myself (no matter how talented they say he is!) I am *never* coming back to this salon.

Finally!

Woo hoo! Houston, we have basketball interest amongst the offspring. Sighted and now documented in the first born son.
Thomas has been throwing all kinds of things for a while now, but only recently has anything gone in the general direction of the hoop.

And never, ever had he attempted a bit of dribbling.
Until tonite, that is.