skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Rachel had her last day of school last week. The last day was a big, exciting party. I got to visit the classroom and see what she likes to play with.
Then I watched as Rachel and her classmates did some "music and movement." I like this photo--they were doing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" but I'll be dipped if you can tell from this photo which body part they were singing about when it was taken!
Then we picked up Nathan from the baby-sitting room and we all got to go swimming! Forty pre-schoolers in the pool, with parents and siblings in tow--it was packed. But so, so fun. Nathan wanted dearly to break free of me and swim with the big kids. (He's going to love summertime!)
After swimming, there was a luncheon that included...macaroni and cheese. Well, with so much fun stuff in store, Rachel was really looking forward to the last day. It didn't really click with her until that night that school was over, and she was a little sad about it. This week will be the real test, as we find ways to keep busy without school. My sweet little scholar has come through her first year of school--and loved it! Here's hoping that stays true for many more years.
The Miss Talksalot I mentioned earlier, well, she is also Miss Listensalot. I am going to have to come up with some serious code so I can go on having phone conversations in her presence. She is constantly asking whom I'm talking about, or why I said "Oh," sounding sad, or what I meant by something. I'm sure the other person I'm talking to is delighted by my frequent interruptions for explanation, analysis, or distraction. I do suspect that the other person is frequently amused by the whitewashing (or, let's face it, blatant untruthtelling) I have to do. Today, though, we had an exceptionally good laugh. I was talking to my mother and made some tongue-in-cheek comment about being screwed up by wacky parenting. Rachel asked who was screwed up, and when I declined to answer, she went back to reading her book about butterflies. Then, a minute or two later, she remembered that I hadn't answered and asked "Why did you say someone is getting nailed together?" What? "You said someone is getting nailed up. Why did you say that?" Hmmm. Ah, yes. Nailed together! Screwed up! Another little peek into the development of the three-year-old brain. Amazing. Amusing, too.
Last week Nathan had his 18-month checkup (Can you stand it? He's 18 months old already! I can't!) so, being dutiful and responsible parents, we pulled out the developmental screening questionnaire from the doctor a few days before the appointment so we could prove that he's normal. Walks, check. Stacks blocks, check. Uses a cup, check. Answers to his name, check. Speaks at least eight words in addition to mama and dada. Hmmm. We had to think pretty hard to come up with eight words, and he rarely said mama and dada. ("Mama" actually means "more milk"--it is usually accompanied with a squeezing-hand-like-milking-a-cow sign in the vicinity of his own nipple. We're thinking of suggesting it to the deaf/hoh community.) Now, we are not overly concerned, mind--after all, we've been saying since he was born that Nathan would be lucky to get a word in edgewise with Miss Talksalot around all the time. Still, it's so nice to hand the questionnaire over to the doctor and not have to explain our lack of concern. So imagine our delight when Nathan chose the intervening three days to begin spouting new words right and left! (Actually, he speaks most of them out of the middle of his mouth. Don't want you to get the wrong impression and think we're training him for Chicago politics already!) Momm-eee. Dadd-eee. App-oh. (That refers to any fruit, which, along with "mama," is Nathan's sustenance of choice.) Car. Truck. Clock. Cracker. Quack. "Ah dew!" (in response to any question that begins, "Who wants to...") Animal noises. It's a delight. He also says "Ummmmmmm," when I give him a choice about something. Makes me laugh. So after all, the doctor visit went well. Shy boy, but they believed me when I said he could wave and kiss and talk. Three shots. Fourth percentile for weight! Thirteenth for height! Child takes after his mother. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-eighth for head circumference! A boy's got to keep all those brains somewhere...
We have a songstress on our hands here. Yesterday, Rachel sang "O to the truck" upon seeing a moving truck being loaded. Here are the lyrics: O to the truck. O to the truck. O to the truck.The melody is just about what you'd expect--not much. Today, Rachel was exploring our closet and playing with some hangers. When David asked her to put the hangers away, she replied, "After I get the movie tickets out of them," as though that were the most natural response in the world. Then she announced that she was going to make up a song about "Does anyone want a hanger?" Here are the lyrics: Does anyone want a hanger? Does anyone want a hanger? Does anyone want a hanger?The melody was about the same. Rachel's songwriting is almost a daily event around here, and it's always sweetly amusing.
A quick corollary to our awesome day from last week...If you ever find yourself standing in front of the freezer case, trying to decide between the classic popsicles (grape, cherry, orange) and the newfangled popsicles (strawberry, raspberry, watermelon, lemonade), I would highly recommend that you neither let your 3-year-old-choose nor choose yourself the latter set. There is absolutely no reason any popsicle should have as much dye in it as these do. Granted, you're supposed to hold the stick, and Nathan refuses--even after I carefully placed the stick in his hand on Popsicle--Take 2 today. Still, his hands are wicked green (pun/allusion intended!)--as are his lips, chin, stripes of his arm (see photo below), and his thighs where the popsicle drips soaked through his pants. This stuff has given no indication that it plans to wash off any time soon, either. Crazy. So take it from me and stick with the classics. Just a tip. (He enjoyed it, of course, but I suspect he would have enjoyed the classics--or, heck, apple juice frozen in a cup--just as thoroughly!) 
Playing in the back yard with a spray bottle, late morning, sunny...Rachel: "My spray bottle is separating the colors that make up white light!"Mommy: "You mean, you're making a rainbow?"Rachel (making a "duh" face): "Yes."I think I said once that I'm more comfortable raising a science nerd than an athlete. Looks like the nerd part, at least, is a done deal.
