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So it's a little too early in the day to break a new set of glowsticks for the kiddies, so I put on Joan Jett.

No, wait, work with me here a minute.

So I put on Joan Jett, or rather I put on Calvin's iPod playlist, to which I have just added Joan Jett, and because the iPod shuffle algorithm is shadowy and mysterious, it pulls out "I Love Rock and Roll" first up. It should here be noted that when A. is away, it gets kind of loud around here.

It takes all of 3 chords before both of the little ones are rocking out in their own way. Calvin is trying to keep his feet in the same place and see how far he can get his hips from his hands without falling over. Rose is hopping around like a frog on all fours and wiggling her butt in the air with no sense of rhythm whatsoever.

Alas, an elbow hits a nose moments later and the spell is broken. But just for a minute there, heart asplode.
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This would all make a great webcomic if there were 50 hours in a day in which to create it... )
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We're at a dual birthday party yesterday, brother and sister aged 7 and 1, with a crowd spanning that entire age range as all siblings were invited. It is a Star Wars themed party and among other festivities there is a Death Star pinata. After much fruitless bashing-- really, when was the last time you saw a pinata actually burst open as designed?-- one of the Jedi masters "Used the Force" and tore the thing open.

Chaos ensues. And there, in the middle of the scrum, Rose is methodically, carefully, reaching in, under, and around the teeming throng to collect a small bag full of ONLY red candy.(*)

Heart asplode.

(*) Red is her favorite color by an infinite margin. (**)
(**)Cherry nerds, Strawberry Laffy Taffy, red lollipops, and KitKats, if you must know.
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Tonight we added additional characters to the bedtime story routine. As you may recall, we already had:
  • Simon, the brave man (Perhaps a spy. Has gadgets. Smells of old leather).
  • Iceblock, the whale (Baleen. Gigantic migratory route. Occasionally, can fly (a la Dirigible Behemothaur).)
  • George, the monkey (Curious. Always seems to be in some sort of trouble. Midget repellent.)
  • Bobo, the Penguin (Comic relief. Jollier than a bucket of leprechauns. Does not want to return to Hoboken.)
Now we must add:
  • Lucky, the cat (For those occasions requiring a character who can't be bothered to advance the plot).
  • Grit, the cabbage (Somewhat Flumpy (from the heat (from being carried in the brave man's pocket)). Apparently, destined to die/wilt/be consumed in every episode, like Kenny/Poster Nutbag. Bit of a grouch, and his speech is quite muffled (the pocket, again).)
  • Tommy, the youthful but vigilant defender of the garden.
  • Sally, the unfortunately underwritten Mary Sue.
Those last two, whose names are variable but whose roles are fixed, joined the party and have been incorporated into the canon after last night, when Rose brought a tear of joy to my eye by requesting the Slug's tale. I asked, which Slug's tale? and she says "the one where they laugh their slimy laugh, huh-huHHH, huh-huHHH, huh-HUHHH, and keep on eating the juicy lettuces." Who's got two thumbs and a 4 year old who asks for a recitation of Orb samples at bedtime? ME!

A final tip: with 4-6 year olds, apparently, ANY story is hysterical if told in a Mortimer Snerd voice. If you can get three or more Mortimers in the same story, plus maybe a genial wino or something, that's comedy gold. Hence, I now must occasionally tell the tail of the Three Billy Goats Dumb and the Tramp in the Alley.
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Last night, during the "funny stuff" part of bedtime tuck-in, in a fit of brainlock, I ALMOST told Calvin and Rosie the story of Charlie the Unicorn. I recovered in time to tell a story about a different unicorn and a different candy mountain, with no gruesome punchline. but I DID keep the magical leopluradon.

Then we went back to the tales of Bobo the Penguin, Iceblock the Whale, George the Monkey, and Simon the Brave Man. and so to bed.
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"Look Papa, it's the guy who kills the wabbit!"



...then she toddles off, singing "Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit, kill the WAB-bit!"
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At random times: "Papa, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" (She has never, to my knowledge, seen Animaniacs...)

Because she is 3: "NO! You stay right dere, I'm gonna do it MYSELF!" (This applies to such things as, running naked through the campground to use a porta-potty alone)

When performing magic: "Abracadabra, Calvin-mazoo, make ice cream appear." (Her siblings have, sadly, mostly corrected her out of this one)

When expecting something good: "Oh! Oh! I'm so exciting!" (understatement)

Also because she is 3: "NNNGH! I *hate* you! I'm not gonna be your fwiend EVER." (never lasts more than 10 minutes)

Cartesian confusion: "Calvin, do you matter if I play wif your legos?" (!)
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This evening, the contents of Old Macdonald's Farm included: cats, dogs, chickens, roosters, pigs, cows, squirrels, bears, badgers, ocelots, polar bears, flamingos, elephants, a herd of wildebeest, penguins, a Gaboon viper, kangaroos, humpback whales, a yak, and a Thompson's gazelle.
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Rose can now climb out of her crib, but she can't open doors yet. So occasionally we are awakened by the sound of her talking/singing to herself while standing on a stool and turning the lights in her room on and off and on and off and on and off and...

She is losing some of her baby talk, but her brother is still named "Calbin" as far as she is concerned, "ch" is still "ts" (as in, "I love you soooo muts!") and "r" is often "w" (as in, "Calbin, don't scweam at me!").

She has a toy stethoscope. She will come up to you and say "I want to listen to your heart", lift up your shirt, (or as she says it, "shuuuurt"), and put the stethoscope on your stomach. Then she says "Go [breath in, breathe out]." You comply. She chirps "Thank You! Now I wanna give you a shot. Don't worry, it won't pints (pinch, per above) you." She gives you a toy shot, and you of course say "Ow." She replies "I'm sowwy! You want me to kiss it all better?"(actually, "You wan meeta kissit all betta?") Repeat until charmed.

Bedtime songs have become an exercise in comedic timing. It started with my pausing before the last word in a given line until she cracked up. Then she started laughing immediately and singing the last word herself. Now, she's decided it's even funnier if she only sings the first *syllable* of the last word in a line. Which leads to things like:
P: [...]Someone's in the kitchen with
R: ...DIE!...
P: -nah, someone's in the kitchen I
R: ...KNOW! [giggle]
P: -oh-oh-oh, Someone's in the kitchen with
R: ..DIE! [cackle]
P: -nahhhhhh! Strummin' on the old
R: ...[giggle] BAN [guffaw]
P: JO!

and finally, I leave you with this chilling image. I'm doing dishes after dinner, A. is out on an errand. Rose wanders in, pulls the towel off the refrigerator door handle and says "Don't worry Papa, I clean it up!"
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Rosie to me, on the way out the door to ride along for the 30 minute "drop everyone else at school" ride: "Bye Bye Papa, See You Tuesday! [blows kiss]"
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Instead of saying/screaming "No!" like other 2-ish toddlers, Rose has an expansive vocabulary of negation.  Lately we get a lot of "No any that, no any that!"  Or "No any this!", or "No any go sleep!". 

She will occasionally go all lolcat, i.e. "I can't have to go pee!"  Also in the cat vain, she says "Look!  I see Jake!  Oh Jake, he's so kyoot!"  Seriously, she says kyoot.  Or kuh-yoot.  While yanking on his tail with both hands or trying to pick him up by his ears.  Jake allows this.  Jake is a very enlightened cat person.

and best of all, she will say "x is too big" to describe an object in any one of a dozen failure modes.  Food too hot?  "Dese nuggets are too big."  Can't buckle velcro shoes? "Shoes are too big."  Can't find blanket?  "Dis blank is too big!" (For Rose, Calvin has a "blankely" but she has a "blank.")  All the water running out of her bathtub down the drain? "Blath is too big!"  and sometimes all of the above in combination, "I can't havta go pee, it's too big!  No any potty!"

I must point out that Rose is by FAR the most potty trained at the youngest age of any of our kids.   But still, she's two.  you gotta stay on top of the situation, and it's a frequent topic of discussion.

Every direction is "upstairs."  but she has to "hold onna wailing"!

and most every book is either "Read go dog go!" or "read Goonite moon!" even when she's holding neither of those two books. 

I'll post more of these later when I can remember.  Must capture the cute!
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For some weeks now, in response to the question "how are you?", Rose has been saying "It's a happy day birthday!"  Or "birfday" sometimes.

and today, it is!  Happy Birthday Rose!  How can it be possible that you're two already?
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[livejournal.com profile] boutell interviewed me. Leave a comment if you want to be interviewed, I'll give you 5 questions, please offer to interview others when you post your responses. Click here for performance news, geekery, music, and more proud-papa gushing than you can stand )

TMI

Jan. 10th, 2006 02:52 pm
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Good gracious. Clearly, today's not Tuesday, it's Poosday.

!

Dec. 21st, 2005 11:33 am
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Rose weighs 9 lbs. 2 oz. this morning. I thought my arms were getting tired faster.
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Rose will now take a bottle, mom's milk or (gasp) formula. Unfortunately, formula (which is what we had last night, as I used all the pumped milk in the morning) does not have oxytocin in it, so she does not fall asleep on the bottle as she does on the breast. She gives me the strangest look when I'm feeding her, like she is still trying to parse the whole "That doesn't look or smell like mama, and this is clearly some sort of plastic contraption and not a real nipple at all, and yet...food!" thing.

Baby hiccups crack me up. They make her whole body jump around, but Rose can fall fast asleep while in the middle of a boisterous round of hiccups; meanwhile, with apologies to Carl Stalling, real live baby hiccups are funnier than any cartoon sound effect ever created. Seriously, it's the loudest noise she makes.

When she sneezes, Rose hits herself in the face with both hands. She also uses both hands when she's flailing around madly with hunger, a feat which effectively keeps her AWAY from the breast, because otherwise mama runs the risk of being rendered with terrible foreclaws (AttrDamn Sam & Max). There must be some evolutionary advantage to these behaviors, but I am at a loss for explanation at this time.
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"Sleeping like a baby" - colloquialism, used to describe a sustained period of profound, motionless slumber, irregularly punctuated by explosive, frightening bowel movements, moments of crippling hunger, and face-distorting bouts of intestinal gas.
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This thing where you put a newborn down in one place and they stay there? It's really handy.
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My god, they come out so tiny and helpless, and yet so perfectly formed, in miniature. Little peach fuzz eyebrows, dangerous fingernails. Ok, there's a distinct lack of teeth, but I'm guessing every nursing mother considers this a feature.

Wasn't Calvin this small just a few months ago? When did he get so big? It's even hard for me to hold him in one arm for long these days.

I must remember to pay more attention to the small days. Going back to do more of that now.
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So at 5:33pm on Saturday the 26th, there were 9 people crowded into our bedroom.

Then, one minute later, there were 10! )

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