Rough Day

 Well... more like rough afternoon. 

 A woke up early -- which kind of moves his internal schedule forward about an hour.  We had a full morning walking to the post office to mail things.   Then it was time for A's last art class.  The instructor brought her two (very small but jumpy) dogs.  I'm not sure what she was thinking, because all the toddlers wanted to play with the dogs and not really explore their inner abilities with art supplies.   

By lunchtime A was pretty much ready to pass out -- and he pretty much did after two River Bend stories.  But then he only had about an 80 minute nap (usually he sleeps a full two hours).  He wanted to see M, who was at work, and I made the mistake of announcing that we'd go pick him up.

Talk about clock watching.  A didn't want to do anything else.  He's also been eating oddly -- I haven't yet found the latest Wonderful Food (it used to be bananas, or jelly sandwiches, or cheese...), so making sure he eats enough can be a real chore.   At a certain point, he's so unfocused on food that I have to feed him myself.  

So we went to pick up M and then it was off to Target for a new car seat.  Despite feeding him before we left, and then again in the car once we had M, Target kind of didn't work (note to self, don't shop during the dining hour).  After A broke a display, M left with him while I paid for the new seat.  

After dinner, I thought A had evened out and that we'd have a nice time in the back yard; but then he deliberately tested me, made three bad choices in a row, and so I carried him inside to a waiting bath.  High Drama.  

I think some of this has to do with the "I want to do it all by myself !" stage toddlers go through.  Man, teaching him to nicely say, "Thanks, but I can do it myself," instead of whining is going to take some doing.

On the up side, A still likes reading quite a bit, and really likes it when we read Jane Yolen's "Ballad of the Pirate Queens"  (although it's slowly dawning on him that pirates are bad guys, or at least not always nice guys)   and "The Golden Storybook of River Bend".

Arrr!

A is still really into the "Pirates of Penzance."   His favorite song so far is "With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal / in silence dread, our cautious way we feel."  Although, "For I am a pirate king," seems to be a close second.   

The other part of this is that he wants to dress like a pirate and asks us about twice a day if he can go some place dressed as a pirate.    

Wicked Toddler

Scene:  The living room.  A has been playing the same note on the keyboard for about twenty seconds.

A:  (ding, ding, ding)  "J, is this repetitious?"  (ding, ding, ding) "Is this repetitious?" (ding, ding, ding)  "Am I pressing your buttons?"

Pictures

OK. Here's the pictures I promised.

The first one is from a week or two ago when A decided he wanted to sleep next to the front door. We don't know why, and we managed to get him to his room a few minutes later.

The rest are at a park. A likes to make a smile face that is very posed. I think I managed to get him to just relax in on one (or two) shots.

I like this one, but it's probably not quite the best shot of A.  

 M says this is the best one.

It's Worse Than That, It's Art, Jim

A sat on the Sphinx the other day in our back yard. When we asked him where he was going, he said he was riding the Sphinx to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

A has discovered the kazoo. I'm not sure if I should be grateful or not that it may supplant the recorder.

Yes. I will post some pictures soon.

We've enrolled in an art class. Um. I think the parents are only allowed in to keep the kids from using scissors to eat the paint -- otherwise it's pretty much a classic Saber-tooth Curriculum class. Don't get me wrong, A's getting something out of it -- just the other week he learned that red and blue paint mixed together makes purple... but I get pretty tired of hearing, "Let the child be free to explore."

But as M pointed out, at least the art mess doesn't happen in our house.

By a coincidence, a mother from A's play group loaned me a book that is the complete antithesis of the Saber-tooth Art Class: "Drawing with Children," by Mona Brookes. I'd mention it to the Saber-tooth Art instructor, but I'm afraid A will be "invited to withdraw from the class." (Yes, there's already been parental dissent, and I'm sure there's going to be angry editorials to the local paper.)

Room Four

A sat through Vivaldi's Gloria in D major at the UU church. He made it through the magnificat before he started to squirm a bit. I leaned over and asked, "Do you want to stay up here and listen, or do you want to go to Room 4?" (Room 4 is the room the preschool kids play in, and A has some separation anxiety associated with the room).

"Stay here," he whispered back.

"You're being really good," I whispered to him between movements.

I think he liked the trumpet parts the best, but the Latin nearly put him to sleep. Thank goodness for his sippy cup, the blue-footed booby, and plush snoopy.

Playing Opposite of Mowgli

The other night, I goofed. I left the box of matches on the dining room table after lighting some candles for dinner.

After dinner and videos, A ran out into the living room. Luckily M wasn't too far behind him. Still, A had a match out and was trying to "get the fire out" of the striking strip. We had the "you can't use matches until you're six" discussion (again). We practiced with the box, and A brought the matches to us while we were having a discussion -- so maybe the next time he'll bring them to us.

But it's probably better if there isn't a next time. So, to all those folks we visit hide the matches! (and the lighters).