Negative Space

M likes the use of negative space in this, and thinks it looks like a logo of some sort.  I was surprised when A said he was done.  But he was sure.  

This painting was an experiment in using paint rules -- I told A he could use a smaller brush, but the rule was that it could only paint blue.  He could use the larger brush in any way he wanted.  

A forgot about the rules pretty quickly, and I didn't press it.  

Pirate Bird

A says this painting is a bird, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"  He also says "it looks like a pirate to me... he has a board and he's doing this [makes a face and says "Aarrrgh!"]

I *think* the board A is talking about is the picture itself.  

Further attempts to elicit a response by asking, "What would you like Grandma M to know about this painting?" garnered the reply, "I'd like her to tape it up to her refrigerator like a poster...  I'm going to roll it up and put a rubber-band on it so the picture can be nice and fresh."

A started out painting the lower portion of the painting with the arcs (which look like yellow bird feet to me) with the announcement that he was painting a pirate boat, and a request for me to make a pirate boat for him.    This was followed by the [fairly typical question] "How do the guys in Bahia (A's name for a short from the Disney collection "Saludos Amigos") go like this?" followed by aggressive applications of paint (probably in the hope that his paint and brush will be like the magic paintbrush in the cartoon which creates tropical flora and fauna with a few flicks).  

Fearful Parent Danger #287

Captain Monkey Paws decided he wanted to wear my gas-permeable rigid contact lenses.

Luckily, my hover-parent alarm went off when I heard (or didn't hear) him in the bathroom.  By the time I saw what he was up to, one contact was on his right eyebrow and the other was in pieces on his fingertips (and very likely parts were down the drain, since the sink wasn't plugged).

Once I calmed down a bit, I realized there was a very low but non-zero chance that shards of contact lens were in A's eye, and that although his eyes were clear and he was neither crying nor trying to claw out an eye, I would lie in bed at 3:21 AM wondering if I would have to teach A Braille.

A doctor visit to after-hours pediatrics later confirmed things were fine.  They used a fluorescing dye and found no signs of damage.  

The one cool thing about the visit is that we discovered that there are small parts of A's hair that are so blonde they are fluorescent under UV light.

At Least He Didn't Blame a Stuffed Tiger

I guess all the sleep yesterday did something...

This morning when M woke up and went out into the living room, he found all of the puppets in a ring on the floor surrounding a pile of dirt from one of the houseplants.  A stick (don't ask me what kind or where it was from) was in the plant's pot.

A was in bed.  Eventually he got up, and when questioned, he said that he had gotten up earlier, "when it was dark," to play.

Volatile Day

A woke up last night about 3 AM and pestered M for cheese. Reportedly, he tossed and turned (and kicked M) for a while afterward.  

So this morning was quiet until I went in to get A out of bed at 9 AM.

Story reading hour at 10 AM was . . . interestingly volatile.  Last time, A got upset when the librarian reading (whom A really likes) did a magic trick with a hat and some water (A was convinced bodily harm was going to happen).   This time we made it through a new magic trick, barely.  But a book with a theatrical story got emotional.  

The afternoon nap started late (not too surprising) then lasted a little longer than usual.   A was pretty good, but became increasingly random and volatile as the day progressed.  

I'm going to blame a growth spurt.  

Child Logic

Scene:  The kitchen.  A has just pulled down a series of "educational" materials produced by J.  

J (squatting down to A's level):  Hey, A, can you point to the octagon?

A (sprawled out on the floor):  That one.  (Points to octagon.)

J:  Very good.  Can you point to the triangle?

A:  Thinking.  (Points to triangle.)

M (sitting at the dining nook table):  A, why is that one a triangle?

A:  Because it's purple.  

J (hitting forehead):  Uhgh.

M:  It's always good to ask these things.  (Miming a university admissions officer) "Why is this one a triangle?"  (Miming a hapless high school senior)  "Because it's always the first item in the answers."

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Today A and I were singing various songs with "Hey Ho" in them.

J:  "Ho-ho-hosanna! Ho-zan-na-na-nana! Ho-ho-hosanna! Ho-zan-na-na-nana!"

A:  "Hey Ho!  Blow the man down!"

J:  "Hey Ho!  To the Greenwood now let us go!"

A:  "Oh blow Susannah down!  I've come from Alabama..."

At this point we dissolved into giggles because blowing Susannah down was pretty darn funny.

Guns and Arrows

One of A's favorite stories is "The King's Wish."  In it, the King of Tam shoots an arrow at a tower bell in order to wake up his people in time for them to put out a fire.  The only problem is that A hasn't seen a real bow, so he keeps talking about putting an arrow in a gun and shooting it.  Now that I think about it, he hasn't seen a real gun, either. 

That hasn't stopped him from building a class of objects called "weapons," which includes guns, arrows, and swords (which, I think he has seen at a Renaissance Faire), and, to my dismay, seem to make a strong impression on him when he sees them in children's entertainment materials.

Oh well, I guess we'll have to break out the toy catapult.