Letter Obsession

Last summer, T totally surprised us by naming any letters he saw on license plates. Prior to that, we had no idea he could recognize his letters. Beyond the ABC song and some ABC books, we had not taught him much about letters. And yet, here he was, reading them.

His interest in letters has since grown way beyond license plates. And it's extending beyond the fridge magnets that I've blogged about in a few earlier entries. T has begun to recognize letter-like shapes in his food, on my bed spread, in shadows, and in his own scribbles.

Today, when I set T's breakfast down in front of him, he excitedly screamed "E! E! E!" I looked down at his tray and, sure enough, his Frosted Mini Wheats were by chance lying in an E-like formation.

T is also beginning to make letters out of french fries, Lincoln Logs, and crayons. He does this by holding two fries/logs/crayons in one hand and looking to see how the items stick out from between his fingers. Since he only has two things in his hand at once, he currently can only make the letters L, T, V, X and Y. But I'm waiting. I'm sure it won't be long now before he starts arranging smaller food, like Cheerios or Goldfish crackers into other letter formations on his tray.

I've been trying and trying to catch one of these letter moments on camera, but I've had no luck. So here's a picture of T sporting his two-piece Elmo PJs -- too cute not to share!

The Meowing Dog

During the past few months I've learned that the vocabulary of the second child mirrors that of the older child. So, T says things like, "Cool, mom" and "I really want...", phrases that weren't in Oo's vocabulary when she was newly two.

Naturally, T also imitates Oo's actions. Silly faces, dance moves, and jumping down from the 3rd step. (When he jumps that far, he lands on his face and my heart stops. Only one bloody nose so far!) And since Oo is always pretending to be an animal, T now does the same. Oo likes to be all sorts of animals -- lizards, monkeys, hamsters -- but she is usually a dog or cat.

T's begun to mimic this by crawling around on the floor, carrying things in his teeth, and curling up on the rug for a pretend nap. Close observation of Oo has also taught him to eat off of the floor w/o using his hands (ewww!), to lift his leg and pretend to pee (ewww!), lick my face (ewww!), growl, meow and purr. If you ask him what a dog says, he'll woof. If you ask what a cat says, he'll meow (in the same high-pitched voice that his sister uses). But when he's playing pretend, he'll bounce back and forth between animal traits, and I'm never sure if he's pretending to be a dog who meows or a cat who barks.

This week he has been taking his "acting" very seriously -- probably another lesson learned from watching Oo. He will now take a snack from me ONLY if I put it directly into his mouth. He gets really, really mad when I don't let him crawl on all fours. (Sorry little dude, but crawling on the slushy, wet driveway is NOT an option.) And sometimes he answers my questions with only barks or meows.

So if I say that I feel I'm living with a bunch of animals, it's not a comment on my children's manners so much as it is kudos to their very active imaginations. Woof! Prrrrrrr.

Cabin Fever

I'm composing this blog on paper -- later I'll post it online. I'm standing at the kitchen table folding laundry and listening to Oo's plastic dinosaurs throw-up in the garbage can. T is busy stuffing fridge magnets into his new snow boots. (Note to self: Must remember to check T's boots for foreign objects before cramming in his squat, little feet.)

T is also singing "It's raining sunshine" -- just those three words -- over and over and over again. Of course, it sounds more like, "Uh rainin stun stein." He has now sung these words more than 50 times in a row. No lie.

We need a break in this weather and we desperately need some fresh air. But the temperatures are just way too low. And when the temperatures approach 30F, we usually get a big batch of snow. Oo loves the snow, but T is not thrilled with the lack of mobility winter affords him. In addition to his puffy coat, stiff snow pants, and mittens that might as well be thumbless (no matter how hard we try, we cannot get his little thumbs in position)... in addition to all that, the thigh-high snow (thigh-high to a two-year-old) makes it impossible for him to take so much as one step without falling on his face. Once he's on his face, the winter gear prevents him from standing himself back up. He hates it. And I don't blame him.


We're trying to remain content while we're inside, but we're running out of ways to keep entertained. Here are a few things we've tried:

Playing in the snow... inside.

Coloring on the floor... sort of.

Fun with static.

Yep, we're ready for winter to end.

Children's Music: Why?

That's the title of a chapter in my favorite parenting book, "The Three-Martini Playdate." The book was a gift from my sister years ago, but it was too tongue-in-check for me to read it until this summer. (Up until that point, I needed real information, as in, "What the heck am I supposed to be doing as a parent?" And "Are they just playing mind games with me?")

Back to the children's music...

So this chapter titled "Children's Music: Why?" brings up some very thought-provoking questions, such as, "Why do we torture ourselves by listening to purple dinosaurs sing about love?" When we were young we listened to our parents' music. And we turned out okay. In fact, certain songs from the 70's still take me down memory lane, helping me remember very specific moments in my childhood.

So the kids and I were in the car last week, heading to the library and listening to a radio station that plays only kids' music. In between songs, the DJ was pretending to talk to an elephant -- an elephant who spoke with a voice that made elephants sound like absolute morons. Even Oo asked, "What IS this?"

I thought back to that chapter in the book -- the fresh perspective it offered -- and I consider two options: Listen to the dorky elephant or switch over to one of the stations I like to listen to when the kids aren't with me. The down-side to the latter option is that we have satellite radio in our car. The DJs are free to drop the f-bomb or any other colorful language whenever they choose. But, in reality, I've only ever heard the f-bomb on the Howard Stern channel. So I go ahead and switch over to XMU -- the independent/college/alternative channel that I do so enjoy listening to.

Kid you not, at the very moment that the station tunes in, there is a young guy singing very apathetically, "When they pulled her body from the river, her eyes were still wide open, but her mouth was sewn shut."

CLICK! Immediately I switch back to the kids' station. From the rear-view mirror, I scan the look on Oo's face. No reaction. Whew!

I think to myself, "Maybe when the dumb elephant shuts up, they'll play that song about french toast, or better yet, maybe they'll play 'Alien in My Nose.' Oo and I like singing along with that song, and it's far less grotesque than what we just heard on XMU."