A real conversation witnessed just moments ago:
Valerie: Hey Dagny, do you want some juice?
Dagny: Yeah!
Valerie: Okay, the next time you get some water, it's called juice from the sink!
Go figure.....
Thursday, May 12, 2005
The Beast
This evening we watched part of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The following recaps my conversation with Valerie:
Valerie: Why is the beast so mean?
Me: He's lonely.
Valerie: Why is he lonely?
Me: No one loves him.
Pause
Me: Did you know that daddy used to be a beast? (kidding)
Valerie: Was he mean?
Me: Yes, he was a mean beast.
Valerie: Was he lonely?
Me: Yes, he was lonely. Then, he met me and fell in love and he became nice.
Valerie: Mommy, were you a princess?
Me: Sure, a princess from Iowa. And you are a princess from California.
Valerie: When daddy was a beast, where did he put you?
Me: Well, he didn't really put me anywhere. These days princesses can go wherever they want.
Valerie: Will a mean beast love me?
Me: Anything it possible. But it's doubtful if your daddy has anything to do with it....
Valerie: Why is the beast so mean?
Me: He's lonely.
Valerie: Why is he lonely?
Me: No one loves him.
Pause
Me: Did you know that daddy used to be a beast? (kidding)
Valerie: Was he mean?
Me: Yes, he was a mean beast.
Valerie: Was he lonely?
Me: Yes, he was lonely. Then, he met me and fell in love and he became nice.
Valerie: Mommy, were you a princess?
Me: Sure, a princess from Iowa. And you are a princess from California.
Valerie: When daddy was a beast, where did he put you?
Me: Well, he didn't really put me anywhere. These days princesses can go wherever they want.
Valerie: Will a mean beast love me?
Me: Anything it possible. But it's doubtful if your daddy has anything to do with it....
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Positive Peer Pressure
Today, Valerie had a play-date with a friend, Stephanie, from school at our house.
Stephanie ate dinner with us this evening prior to her mother coming to pick her up. I dished out the chicken flautas, vegetables and salad. As I put the salad on Stephanie's plate, she announced, "I don't like carrots! I am not going to eat them!"
There was no need for me to respond, because Valerie quickly interjected, "I LOVE carrots! I'm going to eat mine!"
Pensively, Stephanie agreed, "I guess I'll eat my carrots, too."
If that kind of positive peer pressure could transcend the next fifteen years, I think my job as a parent will dramatically improve!
Stephanie ate dinner with us this evening prior to her mother coming to pick her up. I dished out the chicken flautas, vegetables and salad. As I put the salad on Stephanie's plate, she announced, "I don't like carrots! I am not going to eat them!"
There was no need for me to respond, because Valerie quickly interjected, "I LOVE carrots! I'm going to eat mine!"
Pensively, Stephanie agreed, "I guess I'll eat my carrots, too."
If that kind of positive peer pressure could transcend the next fifteen years, I think my job as a parent will dramatically improve!
Resisting Rest
I put the girls down for a nap at their usual time after lunch. They both resisted, as usual. By 2pm, Valerie made an appearance, announcing that she was no longer tired.
Knowing that she had originally awoken at 5:17am, returned to a restless sleep, and started her day by 6:52am, she needed a nap before her scheduled play-date arrived. I coaxed her into my bedroom. We flipped on some awful cartoons that caught her fancy and laid together on the bed, hand-in-hand. Within five minutes, she entered the sleep zone.
At 2:23pm, I heard a startled Dagny crying through the bedroom monitor and quickly jumped to quiet her without waking Valerie. Dagny happily climbed into my arms and laid her head on my shoulder, in her usual way. We moved to the rocking couch in the family room and cuddled. Shortly thereafter, I recognized the slow deep breathing. Dagny fell asleep again, right on my lap. For the first few minutes, we rocked together and I enjoyed the quiet mind-numbing time of doing nothing. Ten minutes into Dagny's nap on my lap routine, I was fidgeting and ready to be productive. It took me awhile to ignore my antsy attitude and enjoy the moment.
Dagny napped on my chest and lap, curled into a little ball for about 50 minutes. She smelled like sugar-water. She looked so peaceful. Her sweaty head pressed against my cheek. The only sounds I heard were Dagny's long, steady breathes and the chirping birds outside the window. And I wondered, "Will my baby ever cuddle like this with me again? I just hope this isn't the last time."
I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Knowing that she had originally awoken at 5:17am, returned to a restless sleep, and started her day by 6:52am, she needed a nap before her scheduled play-date arrived. I coaxed her into my bedroom. We flipped on some awful cartoons that caught her fancy and laid together on the bed, hand-in-hand. Within five minutes, she entered the sleep zone.
At 2:23pm, I heard a startled Dagny crying through the bedroom monitor and quickly jumped to quiet her without waking Valerie. Dagny happily climbed into my arms and laid her head on my shoulder, in her usual way. We moved to the rocking couch in the family room and cuddled. Shortly thereafter, I recognized the slow deep breathing. Dagny fell asleep again, right on my lap. For the first few minutes, we rocked together and I enjoyed the quiet mind-numbing time of doing nothing. Ten minutes into Dagny's nap on my lap routine, I was fidgeting and ready to be productive. It took me awhile to ignore my antsy attitude and enjoy the moment.
Dagny napped on my chest and lap, curled into a little ball for about 50 minutes. She smelled like sugar-water. She looked so peaceful. Her sweaty head pressed against my cheek. The only sounds I heard were Dagny's long, steady breathes and the chirping birds outside the window. And I wondered, "Will my baby ever cuddle like this with me again? I just hope this isn't the last time."
I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
Monday, May 9, 2005
A Typical Tantrum
I realize it's hard to be two years old. There are so many activities, so many demands on your time, so little control, so few words to express all the frustrations in the world.
Maybe it was the rain that ticked off little two-year-old Dagny this morning.
Maybe she had little interest in accompanying me to the post office.
Or maybe she was just plain tired.
Dagny, I informed you of the necessary post office stop in advance. But the choice was clear: either put on your shoes and come with me into the post office or stay in the car. The option was entirely yours. I avoided dragging you to five or six necessary errands that required completion today. I only took you to the post office and it was the beginning of a VERY difficult day.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
But remember, no shirt, no shoes, no service. Going forward, if you don't wear your shoes, you will have to stay in the car. And hopefully, the nice policeman will understand my parental predicament and refrain from turning me into family services.
So, if good old' mom suddenly disappears from your good life, please remember that I was only doing what I thought was right.
Maybe it was the rain that ticked off little two-year-old Dagny this morning.
Maybe she had little interest in accompanying me to the post office.
Or maybe she was just plain tired.
Dagny, I informed you of the necessary post office stop in advance. But the choice was clear: either put on your shoes and come with me into the post office or stay in the car. The option was entirely yours. I avoided dragging you to five or six necessary errands that required completion today. I only took you to the post office and it was the beginning of a VERY difficult day.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
But remember, no shirt, no shoes, no service. Going forward, if you don't wear your shoes, you will have to stay in the car. And hopefully, the nice policeman will understand my parental predicament and refrain from turning me into family services.
So, if good old' mom suddenly disappears from your good life, please remember that I was only doing what I thought was right.
Sunday, May 8, 2005
THAT Was NOT Chocolate!
A while back, I posted a story about Dagny walking around the house with a piece of chocolate that may or may not have been ingested. ("Don't Mess With A Girl & Her Chocolate" posted March 21, 2005). I can report thus far that I have not come across the chocolate in question and can quite confidently conclude that it was, in fact, eaten.
This morning, I wish I had discovered that piece of chocolate. Instead, I found something entirely different.
My view is that Dagny is not quite ready to independently interpret her bowel and bladder functions. Conversely, she seems to believe she is ready to survive without diapers. Perhaps, she even dreams about the day when she will graduate to the exciting world of character-featured panties.
This morning, as Ken and I read the paper and drank our coffee, Dagny desired to run around the kitchen disrobed and diaper-free. For kicks, I brought her little potty into the kitchen and explained how it works. I even demonstrated the potty process with her new potty training baby doll. She spent most of the time, ascending and descending her personal potty, while glancing at her new baby sitting on it's potty.
As I engrossed myself into the one article I was given the opportunity to read, Dagny disappeared from the kitchen. I quickly finished the article and discovered her in the messy toy room. When I explained that if she leaves the kitchen, she MUST wear a diaper. Dagny exclaimed, "I poopy!" And I thought, okay, let's quickly get you into a diaper! Little did I know what she really meant.
A while later (I guess a passage of about 30 minutes), I decided to start some laundry. Entering the laundry room (which neighbors the toy room), the stench tickling my nose nearly knocked me off my feet. No wonder, neither of my children could be found in the toy room. Among the toy-covered floor, I found a few turds.
I regret sending Ken to the YMCA for some pick-up basketball. Despite having cleaned it up, please hurry back!
This will certainly be a memorable Mother's Day!
This morning, I wish I had discovered that piece of chocolate. Instead, I found something entirely different.
My view is that Dagny is not quite ready to independently interpret her bowel and bladder functions. Conversely, she seems to believe she is ready to survive without diapers. Perhaps, she even dreams about the day when she will graduate to the exciting world of character-featured panties.
This morning, as Ken and I read the paper and drank our coffee, Dagny desired to run around the kitchen disrobed and diaper-free. For kicks, I brought her little potty into the kitchen and explained how it works. I even demonstrated the potty process with her new potty training baby doll. She spent most of the time, ascending and descending her personal potty, while glancing at her new baby sitting on it's potty.
As I engrossed myself into the one article I was given the opportunity to read, Dagny disappeared from the kitchen. I quickly finished the article and discovered her in the messy toy room. When I explained that if she leaves the kitchen, she MUST wear a diaper. Dagny exclaimed, "I poopy!" And I thought, okay, let's quickly get you into a diaper! Little did I know what she really meant.
A while later (I guess a passage of about 30 minutes), I decided to start some laundry. Entering the laundry room (which neighbors the toy room), the stench tickling my nose nearly knocked me off my feet. No wonder, neither of my children could be found in the toy room. Among the toy-covered floor, I found a few turds.
I regret sending Ken to the YMCA for some pick-up basketball. Despite having cleaned it up, please hurry back!
This will certainly be a memorable Mother's Day!
Saturday, May 7, 2005
Hitting
Dagny's worst habit is hitting. We know where she learned it; her sister is the responsible party. It's to the point of being entirely out of control. We punish her with time outs. We act overly dramatic at feeling hurt when she strikes. We even insist that she apologize and kiss the victim's boo-boo. Nothing seems to reduce her need to strike.
Tonight, as we romped around the family room playing a friendly game of tickling and wrestling (a game otherwise known as grab-ass in my family), Dagny whopped me good, right above the brow. I stopped and asked her, "What do you say?"
She smiled and responded, "Der ya go."
Alarmed, I thought, "What, you hit me and your response is, there you go? What kind of a child am I raising?" So I changed my tactic, "No Dagny, you HIT me. It HURTS. Ouweeee! What do you say?"
"Sorry!" And she leaned over to hug and kiss me, quite sincerely.
Kenny, watching the game on the couch, giggled quite conspicuously. It really was incredulous that our child could respond with a "There you go" after hitting. Like it was all in good fun!
Tonight, as we romped around the family room playing a friendly game of tickling and wrestling (a game otherwise known as grab-ass in my family), Dagny whopped me good, right above the brow. I stopped and asked her, "What do you say?"
She smiled and responded, "Der ya go."
Alarmed, I thought, "What, you hit me and your response is, there you go? What kind of a child am I raising?" So I changed my tactic, "No Dagny, you HIT me. It HURTS. Ouweeee! What do you say?"
"Sorry!" And she leaned over to hug and kiss me, quite sincerely.
Kenny, watching the game on the couch, giggled quite conspicuously. It really was incredulous that our child could respond with a "There you go" after hitting. Like it was all in good fun!
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