Yet again, here are some short pieces that never quite made whole posts but are fun nonetheless.
The End of an Era
October 25 was a historic night for us: it marked the end of cloth diapers for Lily. This end came about not because she is fully potty trained (alas!), but rather because I came into her room late at night to check on her and found that she was not wearing anything but her nightgown. While still basically asleep, she had taken off her cloth diaper because it was wet. It was sitting open on the bed beside her, and she was sleeping comfortably spread eagle- enjoying the breeze, no doubt. So now, it’s panties all day and pull-ups for errands, nap, and bed. She has not managed to get one of those off while sleeping. Yet.
Stick Figures
I took Lily to the pediatrician in early November to get her a flu shot. Since it was our first time at this doctor, I had to fill out all sorts of paperwork including a lengthy developmental survey that had four or five pages of “can your child do this?” questions. Honestly, I found this annoying; I felt like some medical or bureaucratic child development authority was quizzing my parenting and looking over my shoulder. Part of me wished I could just write “I’m only here for a flu shot. Bugger off!”
But at any rate, the only things on this survey that Lily could not consistently do were to jump with two feet at once and climb stairs with one foot per stair. And she was humorously excellent on all of the verbal communication questions. For example, there was one which featured a deliberately badly drawn stick figure- a man with three arms or some such thing- and it asked you, the parent, to ask your child what the figure was. If the child answered something close to “person,” you got to check the “yes” box, but you still had to write down your child’s exact response. So I dutifully showed the figure to Lily, who coyly responded “I don’t know.” (This is a favorite game of hers.) So I asked her again. “I don’t know.” So I asked her a third time, and she finally said, with a hint of exasperation, “I don’t know. It’s a skeleton.” Oh, the glee of writing down “it’s a skeleton” in that little box...
Fancy Food, part 1
We’ve been getting Lily about one Fancy Nancy book per month all fall (a trend which now has to stop because we’ve run out of them until the new one comes out in February). In October, her book was Fancy Nancy: Bonjour Butterfly, a story in which Nancy pitches a fit about having to go to her grandparents’ anniversary party only to have an ‘extraordinary' time there eating fancy appetizers and learning the cha cha. So one evening when I was getting ready to make dinner, I asked Lily what she wanted, and she responded “fancy hot dogs on silver platters.” Thanks, Fancy Nancy. Thanks a lot.
Fancy Food, part 2
My mother-in-law came for a visit a little over a month ago, and on her last night in town, she took us all to a fancy restaurant in a downtown hotel. When she made the reservation, she inquired about the child friendliness of the establishment, and being assured that they were completely welcoming to children, she invited Lily to come along. I was a little nervous at first, but the staff wasn’t kidding about being child friendly; they treated Lily like a princess, bringing her all the bread she could eat, making her a fancy off-menu pizza, and even serving her a tiny cup of chocolate malt as her between-course palate cleanser. Indeed, only the length of the meal proved difficult for her. Being used to quick dinners at home, she was not prepared for a multiple hour dining event, and she had to take several short walks with Matt to “pet” the cowhide chairs in the lobby. But as we were leaving, we asked her to thank the waiter and maitre d’, and she threw both arms in the air and exclaimed loudly: “Yay for food!” It wasn’t exactly the height of decorum, but I’m sure that if the chef could have seen it, he would have been pleased.
Women and Work
I recently saw that the The Economist has a lengthy special section this month on “Women and Work.” Glancing through the article in the grocery line, I read about what they call an “ambition gap” that develops when women aim for lower-ranking jobs because of concern about present or future family responsibilities. Here’s a story for them.
Like many children her age, Lily has an unfortunate tendency towards throwing. She throws things when she’s frustrated, when she wants attention, and sometimes when she just wants to amuse herself. My glasses, both sun and reading varieties, are a favorite target because she figured out months ago that if she drops them, at least one lens pops out. Normally, I just keep them where she can’t get them, and she will respond contritely enough if she gets ahold of them and gives in to temptation. But a few weeks ago, she kept dropping my reading glasses repeatedly, and I had to step up the consequences. As I went to discipline her after the last throw, I asked her, “Lily, why aren’t you being a good listener? Why did you break my glasses?” She responded directly: “So you won’t work anymore.”
Start ‘Em Young...
I’ve seen a few t-shirts and bumper stickers around here with the phrase “Start ‘em young, raise ‘em right,” usually accompanied by the colors and logo of either the University of Texas or Texas A&M. But in my house, my pride swells not when Lily wants to wear any of our favorite football colors, but when she requests to watch “a mama dada movie,” her term for Jane Austen film adaptations. So far, I think she’s seen two different versions of Sense & Sensibility, the most recent version of Emma, the older BBC Persuasion, Northanger Abbey, and, of course, the six-hour Pride & Prejudice, though certainly not all at once. She calls all of the women “mamas” and all of the men “dadas,” and keeps up a pretty amusing commentary while we watch, but she really does watch with interest. For the amusement of my literary friends, here is her recent assessment of a scene featuring the Bennet family eating breakfast: “Wow. That’s a lot of mamas and only one dada.”
Parasol of Steel
As you know, Lily was Mary Poppins for Halloween this year, and part of her costume which did not go trick-or-treating with her was a little white parasol which my parents got from Walt Disney World. Lily adored it as soon as she got it, but unfortunately, the trips from Orlando to Corpus and Corpus to Austin did a number on it, and within the first few hours of it being in our house, it was misshapen. Two of its lower struts had broken completely, and others were looking dodgy.
So Matt the Engineer struck again. I probably would have just hidden the umbrella away to avoid battle after battle as it progressively broke down or, if pressed, I might have used little wooden dowels or pipe cleaners. But Matt got that manic look in his eye and went to Lowe’s, where he acquired steel (yes, I said steel) rods and a metal saw. He then reinforced or replaced all of the umbrella’s struts, securing his custom-sawed steel rods with a host of white zip-ties.
On the upside, I don’t have to worry about repeated tears or battles as the umbrella breaks down. This sucker is not going to get broken. On the downside, it might be the breaker of other things. It is now not only an accessory but a frilly white bludgeoning stick decorated with flowers and Lily's name. But again, on the upside, it’s so heavy that Lily cannot wield it as such right now. She has a bit of a hard time just holding it up. So apart from completing her practically perfect Mary Poppins outfit, she can use it for both strength-building exercise and self-defense. And if you see her flying past you in the sky in the manner of the famous Ms. Poppins, you can think to yourself: “It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No- it’s a steel parasol!”
The End of an Era
October 25 was a historic night for us: it marked the end of cloth diapers for Lily. This end came about not because she is fully potty trained (alas!), but rather because I came into her room late at night to check on her and found that she was not wearing anything but her nightgown. While still basically asleep, she had taken off her cloth diaper because it was wet. It was sitting open on the bed beside her, and she was sleeping comfortably spread eagle- enjoying the breeze, no doubt. So now, it’s panties all day and pull-ups for errands, nap, and bed. She has not managed to get one of those off while sleeping. Yet.
Stick Figures
I took Lily to the pediatrician in early November to get her a flu shot. Since it was our first time at this doctor, I had to fill out all sorts of paperwork including a lengthy developmental survey that had four or five pages of “can your child do this?” questions. Honestly, I found this annoying; I felt like some medical or bureaucratic child development authority was quizzing my parenting and looking over my shoulder. Part of me wished I could just write “I’m only here for a flu shot. Bugger off!”
But at any rate, the only things on this survey that Lily could not consistently do were to jump with two feet at once and climb stairs with one foot per stair. And she was humorously excellent on all of the verbal communication questions. For example, there was one which featured a deliberately badly drawn stick figure- a man with three arms or some such thing- and it asked you, the parent, to ask your child what the figure was. If the child answered something close to “person,” you got to check the “yes” box, but you still had to write down your child’s exact response. So I dutifully showed the figure to Lily, who coyly responded “I don’t know.” (This is a favorite game of hers.) So I asked her again. “I don’t know.” So I asked her a third time, and she finally said, with a hint of exasperation, “I don’t know. It’s a skeleton.” Oh, the glee of writing down “it’s a skeleton” in that little box...
Fancy Food, part 1
We’ve been getting Lily about one Fancy Nancy book per month all fall (a trend which now has to stop because we’ve run out of them until the new one comes out in February). In October, her book was Fancy Nancy: Bonjour Butterfly, a story in which Nancy pitches a fit about having to go to her grandparents’ anniversary party only to have an ‘extraordinary' time there eating fancy appetizers and learning the cha cha. So one evening when I was getting ready to make dinner, I asked Lily what she wanted, and she responded “fancy hot dogs on silver platters.” Thanks, Fancy Nancy. Thanks a lot.
Fancy Food, part 2
My mother-in-law came for a visit a little over a month ago, and on her last night in town, she took us all to a fancy restaurant in a downtown hotel. When she made the reservation, she inquired about the child friendliness of the establishment, and being assured that they were completely welcoming to children, she invited Lily to come along. I was a little nervous at first, but the staff wasn’t kidding about being child friendly; they treated Lily like a princess, bringing her all the bread she could eat, making her a fancy off-menu pizza, and even serving her a tiny cup of chocolate malt as her between-course palate cleanser. Indeed, only the length of the meal proved difficult for her. Being used to quick dinners at home, she was not prepared for a multiple hour dining event, and she had to take several short walks with Matt to “pet” the cowhide chairs in the lobby. But as we were leaving, we asked her to thank the waiter and maitre d’, and she threw both arms in the air and exclaimed loudly: “Yay for food!” It wasn’t exactly the height of decorum, but I’m sure that if the chef could have seen it, he would have been pleased.
Women and Work
I recently saw that the The Economist has a lengthy special section this month on “Women and Work.” Glancing through the article in the grocery line, I read about what they call an “ambition gap” that develops when women aim for lower-ranking jobs because of concern about present or future family responsibilities. Here’s a story for them.
Like many children her age, Lily has an unfortunate tendency towards throwing. She throws things when she’s frustrated, when she wants attention, and sometimes when she just wants to amuse herself. My glasses, both sun and reading varieties, are a favorite target because she figured out months ago that if she drops them, at least one lens pops out. Normally, I just keep them where she can’t get them, and she will respond contritely enough if she gets ahold of them and gives in to temptation. But a few weeks ago, she kept dropping my reading glasses repeatedly, and I had to step up the consequences. As I went to discipline her after the last throw, I asked her, “Lily, why aren’t you being a good listener? Why did you break my glasses?” She responded directly: “So you won’t work anymore.”
Start ‘Em Young...
I’ve seen a few t-shirts and bumper stickers around here with the phrase “Start ‘em young, raise ‘em right,” usually accompanied by the colors and logo of either the University of Texas or Texas A&M. But in my house, my pride swells not when Lily wants to wear any of our favorite football colors, but when she requests to watch “a mama dada movie,” her term for Jane Austen film adaptations. So far, I think she’s seen two different versions of Sense & Sensibility, the most recent version of Emma, the older BBC Persuasion, Northanger Abbey, and, of course, the six-hour Pride & Prejudice, though certainly not all at once. She calls all of the women “mamas” and all of the men “dadas,” and keeps up a pretty amusing commentary while we watch, but she really does watch with interest. For the amusement of my literary friends, here is her recent assessment of a scene featuring the Bennet family eating breakfast: “Wow. That’s a lot of mamas and only one dada.”
Parasol of Steel
As you know, Lily was Mary Poppins for Halloween this year, and part of her costume which did not go trick-or-treating with her was a little white parasol which my parents got from Walt Disney World. Lily adored it as soon as she got it, but unfortunately, the trips from Orlando to Corpus and Corpus to Austin did a number on it, and within the first few hours of it being in our house, it was misshapen. Two of its lower struts had broken completely, and others were looking dodgy.
So Matt the Engineer struck again. I probably would have just hidden the umbrella away to avoid battle after battle as it progressively broke down or, if pressed, I might have used little wooden dowels or pipe cleaners. But Matt got that manic look in his eye and went to Lowe’s, where he acquired steel (yes, I said steel) rods and a metal saw. He then reinforced or replaced all of the umbrella’s struts, securing his custom-sawed steel rods with a host of white zip-ties.
On the upside, I don’t have to worry about repeated tears or battles as the umbrella breaks down. This sucker is not going to get broken. On the downside, it might be the breaker of other things. It is now not only an accessory but a frilly white bludgeoning stick decorated with flowers and Lily's name. But again, on the upside, it’s so heavy that Lily cannot wield it as such right now. She has a bit of a hard time just holding it up. So apart from completing her practically perfect Mary Poppins outfit, she can use it for both strength-building exercise and self-defense. And if you see her flying past you in the sky in the manner of the famous Ms. Poppins, you can think to yourself: “It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No- it’s a steel parasol!”
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