Art and Space

Well... the fallout from Space Chimps is still falling. A seems a little anxious about NASA probes, since a space probe with multiple arms played a major roll in the freeze-dipping sequences. I've tried showing him a picture of Sojourner on Mars; it doesn't have little claws, so that helps.

In the art department, A has wanted to paint (it might have something to do with our painting the house...)

This painting was done a the other day. I managed to get the painting process on video (posting soon). A was singing as he was painting, and between A changing some of the words and me being a little focused on videography, I didn't quite realize until the third chorus that he was singing "Joy to the World."

Then I looked at his picture. It's a representation of the "Joy to the World" sequence from Will Vinton's Claymation Christmas, which A watches on a semi-regular basis.

I don't know what put him in the Christmas spirit.

This one was done today. I'll see if I can get A to say anything about it.

M saw the video of the "Joy to the World" painting and says I sound like either Judy Garland with Liza Minnelli or Ethel Merman as Momma Rose.

I was extolling the child to paint on the paper and not on his hand. Sheesh.

This one reminds me of a preying mantis. By this time, A was in a silly mood, telling me to clean up the paints, and then insisting that he wanted to paint some more. I was a little cross with him, as he had started painting on his art smock (one of my old T-shirts) which I had told him not to do.

At least that exchange wasn't on video.

Space Chimps!

We tried an experiment.  We went to a G-rated movie.  All three of us.  It was A's first visit to a theatre to watch a movie.

It failed about the time the villain alien started dipping other aliens into a pool of some fictitious liquid-oxygen-like fluid to freeze them.  (In other words, about five minutes into the movie.)

A said he wanted to leave, so M took him out.  A said he'd try again; but then the movie got a little intense again.  (They were behind me, but I'd guess it was seven minutes into the movie.)

Oh well.  M let me stay and watch.  It was a silly movie, which was why I wanted to see it (I mean, really, what can one expect from a movie titled "Space Chimps?")  Luckily, we saw it at the dollar theatre, so it was a cheap(ish) experiment.

PS:  Skip the movie trailers for "Journey to the Center of the Earth."  At least A didn't have to see the previews for "Death Race."

Photos from Mark H

Here are some photos from last week's visit to Mt. Rainier.  

Eric and our other friend, Mark (who hurt his foot so he couldn't go with the adults on a five mile 2000 ft gain hike), went with us.

A ran most of the time.  Luckily, Eric was there to help make sure A didn't plunge over the railings in an attempt to visit the glaciers.

A tired out more easily, as he had done this exact hike the day before.  I kept him going with promises of a hot dog at the visitor's center (also, just like the day before).

Predictably, he passed out on the shuttle bus back to the camp site.  This meant his nap was a little short, with predictable results.

Quick Report

We went camping and A enjoyed it -- although I think he enjoyed visiting with his friend Eric more than actually being in the woods.  (Okay, they both really liked finding snow and ice in August.)   A probably was in a three-year-old's heaven when he found a stick he could use as a pirate sword to have a sword fight with Eric (A cheats).

M bought A some really big bolts and nuts.  A loves them, and promptly got a hammer so he could "build a rocket."

A will let me read "The House at Pooh Corner" to him.  I had never realized until now how sarcastic A. A. Millne was, and I think he might be my new hero.  Eeyore isn't gloomy, he's downright snarky.  

A has entered the, "Well, you see..." stage of toddler-hood.  "Well, you see, J; I have to vacuum the cat because her fur is dirty and I want to take the dirt off the cat and put it into the vacuum cleaner so I can take it out of the vacuum cleaner and put it into the fireplace and stuff it up the chimney..."   "Well, you see..." is less irritating than the whispered "Maybe I will [do something I've just told him not to do]."

A announces on a fairly regular basis that he wants to put on his pirate costume, "so I can be a bad guy and [insert felony crime here]."  Usually he wants to take coveted library books away from other children, but upon occasion he's expressed a desire to steal cars or burn the library down.  I guess we'll have to hide the matches when A wears his pirate costume.

When A's larcenous intentions are particularly heinous, I gently remind him that his victims would feel like A did when he got upset by the book entitled, "Squash the Spider."  (No bugs were harmed in this book, "Squash" is the spider's name.)  A was reduced to tears during Scary Reading Hour simply by hearing the title of the book read dramatically.  

Applications in Sympathetic Magic

A is very excited about a trip planned to the East Coast. There will be a wedding, and he's excited to visit various relatives.

He's so excited he'd like to go today.

I tried to explain to him the the trip wasn't until the end of September. I pulled out the portable Stonehenge and pointed to the spot just past the Atumnal Equinox. "See," I said, "When the sun peg is here, then it will be time to go to the Grandma M's."

So. This morning, Portalable Stonehenge was left out on a table after we had moved the day peg forward one hole (to help keep track of which day to move the sun peg) and the moon peg forward two (about 12 degrees in the sky). I left for a moment to get a snack, and when I came back A was moving the pegs all over the circle. "What are you doing?" I asked (note: the question has be edited for the sake of tender readers).

"When the sun peg is here," said A, "we can go to the East Coast."

"Uh, no." I said, moving the moon's descending node peg and the sun peg back to their correct positions. "That's not quite the way it works." I started to remind A that we only move the node pegs three times a year and the sun peg every six or seven days, but he ran off to harass the cat.

Art and Mediums

A wanted to print this out, but I convinced him to put it on the blog instead.

In non-art news, A and I were eating the other day, and I admonished him to finish his food.  "That's Pinky's," he said.

"Who's Pinky?" I asked.  

"Pinky Gilbertson," said A.  

"Oh," I said, wondering if this was the first appearance of an imaginary playmate, and if Pinky Gilbertson would be blamed for a variety of misdemeanors.  "And who is Pinky Gilbertson?"

"Pinky Gilbertson lives over there," said A, pointing to the southeast end of the block.  "He's an old guy in his house for the longest time.   And then I died."

The meal was taking a Nostradamusian turn, and like parents everywhere who are suddenly taken to the Twilight Zone by their children, I simply nodded and said, "Oh."  

Yes; I Googled "Pinky Gilbertson."  No; I didn't find any such person listed -- or "Pinkie Gilbertson" for that matter.  I think that pinky might come from discussions about the anatomy of Dr. Seuss  characters' hands.  I'm guessing that "Gilbertson" might be a garbling of "Gilbert and Sullivan."   And A is figuring out what being dead means -- the other day he told my dad that he was going to die so he could bring Sierra (the no longer living family German shepherd) back.  I swear someday that kid is going to make my dad break down in tears.

By this time M had joined us, and A announced that he was going to get a big jack hammer so he could dig a really deep hole and then he was going to get into the hole and die.  When M explained to him that dead people don't get chocolate or to watch cartoons,  A changed his plans;  once the meal was over, we walked to the store for milk, bananas and chocolate.

Now there's a prescription for you.

Hair Cutting

A (after cutting a curl -- with supervision -- out of his face):  "I need to cut my hair because I want to wear a crown and if I have too much hair my crown might slip off."

I think we may be able to blame The King's Stilts for the sliding crown.  But I don't know where the excess hair came from.