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Showing posts from 2014

Picture Poetry

Baby Glee: Take it off of me.  Kersplat: I'm done with that! Persimmons Galore 216 cookies to store.  Road Rash: Baby walker dealt the bash. Flying: Almost crying.  Giggles are a cinch With a little pinch.  Self-satisfied: Peeled and separated with pride.  Rain Done: Out to run. Ficus Tree: Balance beams for Lee.  First Tea: Milk, water, honey.   Sepia Tint: Ellis Island Immigrant  Why So Serious: Eating dirt without us.  Facia Rocks: Uptown's climbing blocks.  Trepidation: Waves of the ocean.  Suspicion: Phil in vision.  Winter Beach: Within Grandpa's reach. Advent: Phil's craftsmanship leant.  Wonder: Thighs of thunder. Little Sock:  Celery stalk. Opened In a Rush:  Walnuts, mints, and toothbrush.  Collapsable Fort: Uncle Jacob can contort.  Xylophone: She bangs alone. Wreath for Advent: Christmas or lent. Apple Computer: Joi

Library Finds: Great Books for Children

We have found a few more winners at the Whittier Public Library. This time around, Phil observed that we encountered a book with a villain ( The Three Little Rigs) . Now that Phil has mentioned it, very few books for a two-year-old audience have  villains . Could it be that the two-year-old world of literature is lacking in this area? I hesitate to say so because I've  skipped over all those books about monsters  under  the bed.  I'm beginning to notice many repeated concepts in children's literature: wordless books about shapes or lines or shadows that come to life, grandmother stories about sweet bears or bunnies (I call these grandmother books because I imagine a little old lady finally becoming a grandmother and she's so excited that she writes a story about a nice, soft, sweet animal that will bore parents to tears.), P olar bear books that seem written by an environmentalist who never had children, and wannabe poetry books that like to say things like, "

An Experiment in Silence

I survived. The house didn’t burn down. My two-and-a-half-year-old didn’t eat my ten-month-old. I got out of the house for a walk. I had three meals and four visitors, and I discovered how little my words are actually needed in parenting. This past week I went one day without speaking. I allowed myself to say, “Thank you,” “Okay,” and “Please,” to use sounds as signals, to read books and sing songs. And no, I didn’t sing my way through the day, making up songs about going potty or getting your shoes on for a walk. If a neighbor greeted me, I could return the greeting, although I found a wave worked just as fine. If someone called, I answered. And if people came over I would speak but with simplicity, not worrying about filling the silence or complaining about the day’s trials or qualifying my statements to manage what others might think of me. Monday was my test day. I tried speaking as little as possible. And when hand motions or sounds wouldn’t work for Lee, I created lists

Halloween Under Construction

I'm starting to think Halloween was invented for parents rather than children. Can anyone get enough of their cute kids in costumes? I can't stand it! He's a construction worker in case you couldn't tell.  Rose blended in with an old onsie that used to be Phil's when he was a baby. Highlights of the evening were: building the bonfire with the Daddy man.  Eating candy for perhaps not the first time, but definitely a rare occasion in this household.  And welcoming Lois Thorpe's troupe of Korean foreign exchange students who enjoyed trick or treating, smores, and hot apple cider for the first time. They were dressed in the most interesting attire (a nurse, cop, maid, Santa, and bunny), all of which looked like they'd come from A Touch of Romance. Best costumes of the night were a pyramid, a cook, and three confident teen boys dressed up like bananas. Phil did the old toss-a-stick-into-the-fire-in-order-to-get-candy-routine, which was a bit hi