All the numbers in the world

Tadpole (3): Soon I'm going to be five like [friend]

But what will you need to be first?

First I need to be four. Then I'm going to be five. Then I will be six.

Then I will be <mutters>1,2,3,4,5,6,7</mutters>Seven!

Yep.

Yeah and then eight!  Then <mutters>1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9</mutters>Nine! Then ten! Then 11 and 12 and 13! I'm going to be really tall when I'm thirteen!

Yes you will kiddo.

Yeah and you know what? Then I'm going to be all the numbers!

<laughter>

Yeah! Even one hundred!

Mommy: yep, you might make it to one hundred.

Yes, I'm going to be one hundred and daddy we're going to need a really, really, really, really tall car when I'm one hundred!

Sewing

More on developments in purposeful, imaginative play later. For now, a brief episode from tonight.

The scene: Mommy and daddy's room. A rocking chair with a small pillow for back support.

The players: Tadpole, Daddy.

The time: just before bedtime. Teeth have been brushed, pajamas donned. All is in readiness for a final story and climb into bed.

Tadpole: <grabs pillow> "I'm going to take this for bedtime.

Daddy: "No, that's mommy's pillow. Leave it please."

Tadpole: <screaming>

Daddy: (terrified, quiet) "shhh ... We just put your sister in her crib. You have to be quiet."

Enter Mommy.  Discussion ensues. Mommy clarifies that the pillow is Tadpole's, has been on a long-term loan.

Mommy: "You were so nice to let me keep the pillow. May I continue to use it?"

Tadpole: "No."

Mommy: "But it helps my back."

Tadpole: "No."

Daddy: "Without the pillow, mommy's back really hurts. Can she use it?"

Tadpole: <sets down pillow>. <goes to bed, picks up a full size pillow from the bed>. <deposits on chair>. <proudly reclaims original small pillow>. "You use that one mommy."

Mommy: (giggling). "OK kiddo. Thank you.  Are you saying I need to make a new pillow?"

Tadpole: "Daddy, tomorrow when you are making coffee and milk, I'm going to be sewing mommy a new pillow."

Daddy: "Oh?"

Tadpole: "Yes. I'm going to do the sewing, but not the pins part because pins are sharp. Mommy can you do the pins part and I will do the sewing when daddy makes coffee?"

All: <dissolves into happy giggles, hugs>. "I love you."

A single raindrop

We were out for a walk with Tadpole a few days ago when she got a scrape on her ankle. (Turns out that I did have a reason to tell you to stay on the sidewalk and not stumble through the garden kiddo.)

Tadpole is not a fan of owies, and she did not like the idea of cleaning it when we got home.  But after a few minutes of whining about that pronouncement, she quieted down and went back to tricycling.

It was blocks later when she announced that a thunderstorm was coming (clear blue sky notwithstanding ... after all, we'd had one a few days before, so thunderstorms were in the air).  And it was many minutes after that when she announced that she'd felt a raindrop.

You will not be surprised to learn that the raindrop from the thunderstorm landed on her ankle.  It cleaned her ankle and the scrape.  We would not have to clean the owie when we got home, although we could still put a band-aid on it.

The protests when we vetoed that line of logic we're more impressive than the first round.

How long do they stay three?

Two anecdotes

We took the girls out to a park and Ice Cream yesterday. On the way home, Sprout (3 months) began loudly explaining that she was hungry and tired of being in her car seat.  Tadpole decided to comfort her sister:

Sprout, if you would like to watch the Cars movie when we get home, you need to refrain from whining.

R and I sat stunned for a moment, then laughed. Encouraged, Tadpole continued.

And what do we say to that? Mind Blown!!

At the end of dinner, Tadpole was doing "Rock and Roll" fingers. Somehow these also became a phone to discuss her schoolwork on.

Ring, Ring. Oh hello Rock and Roll. I traced sandpaper letters with [classmate] today.

Me: hello Tadpole. What letters did you trace.

No, Rock and Roll, I don't want to talk about school anymore. I'm just going to be quiet.

Thunderstorms

We had a thunderstorm tonight. The 3 month old fell asleep before it started, and the three-year-old ended up falling asleep while mommy sat with her.

Walking home from the park, Tadpole asked about thunderstorms, and we went a little bit Magic School Bus in our explanation: we showed her the grey clouds and talked about how water up there was joining into little water droplets, which would turn into raindrops and fall down.  And how the grass (and our garden!) really wanted that water.  I don't think we got into root systems, but we did talk a bit about lightning, charges separating, and electricity jumping between the clouds and the ground.  I talked about how that made a lot of energy and the thunder was part of that energy.  R talked about about how the thunder was the lightning saying 'hi'.  (Aside - myths, folktales, and kids stories seem less silly now that I'm a parent)

Tadpole ate it up.  She asked us to tell the story of the thunderstorms at least three times, and filled in words and phrases as we went on.  This was exciting and a way to use words and things.

And then we went inside and she said "I don't like the thunderstorm because it's loud and scary."

Yep, kiddo, it is.  We can tell you stories and use words and reassure you that you're safe and talk about being in a brick house which is the one that the big bad wolf can't even blow down, but at the end of the day lightning and thunder are scary.  And thinking about them is scary.  And maybe in the moment we can watch them together and have fun with that so that you have a not-scary experience of thunderstorms.  But for now, while you're three, words and stories and experiences are very, very far apart, and I'm not going to keep you up until 10:30 to watch the lightning and laugh together and process the experience.  But I will hold you and hug you, whenever you let me.

Unrelated aside - at bedtime, I was singing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" and Tadpole informed me that:
"Soon we're going to get a rainbow"
"Really?"
"Yes.  We're going to get it in a package from Amazon.  We're going to get two packages from Amazon and one will have a rainbow in it and the other one will have other things."

So also there's that.

Two anecdotes

We took the girls out to a park and Ice Cream yesterday. On the way home, Sprout (3 months) began loudly explaining that she was hungry and tired of being in her car seat.  Tadpole decided to comfort her sister:

Sprout, if you would like to watch the Cars movie when we get home, you need to refrain from whining.

R and I sat stunned for a moment, then laughed. Encouraged, Tadpole continued.

And what do we say to that? Mind Blown!!

At the end of dinner, Tadpole was doing "Rock and Roll" fingers. Somehow these also became a phone to discuss her schoolwork on.

Ring, Ring. Oh hello Rock and Roll. I traced sandpaper letters with [classmate] today.

Me: hello Tadpole. What letters did you trace.

No, Rock and Roll, I don't want to talk about school anymore. I'm just going to be quiet.

We should all be Type A

Tadpole discovered the story of the three little pigs recently.  In our story, the little piggy with the brick house is Type A.  Much like mommy.  At the end of the story, Tadpole announced:

"I'm a bit Type A."

"Really?"

"Yeah.  Just like mommy."

"So you like having everything just so?"

"Yes!"

[silence]

"Everybody should be Type A!"

OK kiddo. We'll talk about work-life balance when you're older.

Gods

R and I have been thinking a bit about how to introduce Tadpole to religion when she gets a bit older.  Tonight, somehow gods (Greek mythology?) came up in conversation and we asked Tadpole about them.

"Do you know what gods are kiddo?"

"Yes. They're like the captains of a big white boat."

<general laughter, pleased smile on Tadpole's face.>

"Mommy, are you going to cry happy tears?"

A good evening, with a very observant child.

Geese, I guess?

Driving back from grocery shopping yesterday, I pointed out a pair of geese to Tadpole, but by the time she looked, we'd passed them.  A few moments later:

Look daddy! A goose! Just one goose.

Neat! Where?

We passed it already.

Oh. OK. Well thank you for pointing it out.

Did you see it?

No, but I'm glad you did.

Yeah. I saw it.  My eyes are better than yours. 

...

Your brown eyes have trouble.  But my blue eyes are really good. So I saw it because of my blue eyes.

So I see two geese on the side of the road, point them out to Tadpole, and eventually get told that my eyes aren't good based on their color because they can't see an imaginary goose.

Three, people.  She'll be here for the next 15 years, not tipping her server.

On a slightly related note, this mostly made me realize how different her conception of using words to say that we saw a goose is from mine.  Whatever those words mean to her, it's not what they mean to me.  I've been reading the Lives of some early medieval saints, and there's a recurring episode where the saint comes across a village of pagans and basically takes over their bodies, making them freeze or dance, in order to disrupt their ritual and/or show them the power of God.  In the same way that "I saw a goose" just means something fundamentally different to Tadpole than it does to me, I'm pretty sure these episodes meant something fundamentally different to their authors and audiences.  In all cases, I wish I understood what was going on there. I think the world would be more interesting.

It's just so tough to be Three

We've been noticing a lot lately that it's just so tough to be three. (Which I cannot hear in anything other than the tune to "I just can't wait to be king" from The Lion King.)

It's hard when you need to go to bed and daddy's been clear that you need to be quiet and go to bed but you just pooped in your diaper but you can't tell daddy so you writhe around until he leaves and mommy comes in so you can tell her.

It's hard when daddy asks whether you remember the nightmare that woke you screaming and asking where mommy was. No! But now it's necessary to be carried and clingy all morning. Who mentions nightmares the next day?

It's hard when daddy asks if his shoulder smells like milk and so you try to nurse like your sister and you bite him and he gets mad. How were you supposed to know he was just commenting on how your baby sister spit up there earlier.

It's hard when you want a fruit bar but it's in two pieces and daddy won't hand them over. Of course screaming is the only solution here. There's no call for daddy to laugh. None.

Going on a bear hunt outside is totally awesome!!!

So awesome that you forget about potty and pee in your clothes right after coming inside.  

It's tough when you take a bath because there's all this water right there and you have a mouth plus daddy seems to want to play a game where he reacts a lot if you pretend to drink the water, but why does daddy get upset when you try to play the game? You waited until the bath was done because you've learned drinking bath water is the fastest way to get out ...

It's just so hard to be three.  And so, so hard when daddy makes the choices he does. Time to step it up and not talk hard daddy.

When all you have is a tow rope ...

Tadpole's fallen for the Cars movie in a big way. She really likes both Lightning McQueen and Mater, who's always been a "race truck".  Yesterday as we were driving to school, she announced:

Mater is a Tow Truck.

Yes.

He pulls cars when they get stuck.

That's right!

Are those cars stuck?

What do you think?

I think they're not stuck. They're going.

That's right.

[brief pause]

Are those other cars going?

Yep.

Why?

Why do you think?

Because they're not stuck!