dwenius

[The Scene:] Yesterday, Calvin had a play date that kept him out until almost 5:30, which around here is actually nighttime this time of the year. As he was coming home we were in the middle of the third snow flurry of the year.

He comes in the door yelling, "Papa, come outside with me and see! It's SO BEAUTIFUL!"

So how do you resist that? I throw on a coat, hat, gloves, and walk out the back porch door. I don't see him at first, then from my right he says "Come stand right here, this is the good spot."

He's backed up to the garage doors, looking up at an angle. The moon is about 80% full and is only slightly occluded behind thin clouds. With the lake so close we get a steady but unpredictable wind that flows (sometimes, it howls) around the house and creates all manner of swirling eddies. Tonight it is spilling around both sides of the garage and as the snow falls through the pale moonlight, it spirals to earth in tight rings, the ones to our left turning one way, to our right turning the other. Tiny snowflakes fall straight down but the bigger ones are all spinning around and colliding. Calvin is almost reverent. "See? It's beautiful."

I stick my tongue out. Calvin mimics me and starts laughing, running around chasing the bigger snowflakes and cracking himself up. I hear a small whine and look down, and Ellie is wagging furiously with her ears pulled back in that "OH PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE" way. It occurs to me that we haven't really been outside with her in a few days and she must have a severe case of doggie cabin fever. So I reach into the porch and grab her frisbee. As soon as she sees me holding it, she turns into crazy dog, running madly in circles, digging her nose into the snow to throw it into the air. She comes back and sits without my asking, a huge grin on her face. We don't play fetch. We play, Throw->Chase the dog->clever subterfuge to make her drop the preferred toy and chase a stick or something->repeat. This is slightly more exciting than usual in the icy dark but somehow we all keep our feet and run madly about for 15 minutes or so. Right about the time I am getting winded, the snow pauses for a second and A. calls for dinner. Just so.

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.

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.

Sometime around Halloween, Calvin piped up at dinner and said, "I want to learn how to read." When probed for the source of his sudden interest, he replied that "You need to know how to read to be able to use an iPod!"

The end justifies the means, right? canetoad pulled out the workbooks we used with Nina and they started working through them at bedtime. Calvin being Calvin, attention-span was an issue, but by the same token his glee at figuring out words and phonics and so forth lit up the room. There was a brief moment of iPod touch lust (over a lava lamp game, actually), but in a subsequent pillow conversation Calvin declared that it was all up to Santa which version he got and he mostly wanted to play his songs over and over again. Shortly thereafter, he read about half of _Go Dog, Go_ to me, including working out about 10 new words all on his own. Santa was satisfied, and Calvin received the same iPod Nano 4g that his father and sister own.

( and what did he want to listen to? )

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?" (!)

"Do you think clams know that this thing inside them is made out of meat?"

Calvin is lost in thought. After some time, he looks at me and says, "Papa, is there such a thing as a man-grabber?"

Calvin and I are clambering around the long stone jetty at Hampton Beach state park. I think it looks like your typical New England style stacked-rock wall built large; he is convinced that they are the broken pieces of asteroids, destroyed by a rocket ship and fallen to Earth. He is relating his theory to everyone who passes us on our journey, whether they inquire or no. We are passed frequently, as the gaps between asteroids are rather larger than a small boy-- even if he IS five-- can navigate without all four limbs and much careful maneuvering.

About halfway out (on this excursion...we made several trips to the asteroid belt today) he decides he's had enough space travel and wants to climb down the side instead, before the tide comes in and renders that path inaccessible. During our descent, this conversation:

Calvin: Everything real is in my mind.
Me: Calvin, there are more than a few things that are NOT real in your mind!
Calvin: Sure! But, every real thing is in my mind. Like this rock here. See? [taps the barnacles with his foot] It's real! and it's in my mind!

All this climbing makes my feet sore, but my heart light.