Language

Monkey's dad is traveling this week for work. Two weeks ago it was bonding time for Monkey and her daddy, not it is bonding time for us. A little yin, a little yang.

Monkey is becoming more verbal. She repeats words, and phrases. Recently we've heard her say (something approximating) "barnyard dance" which is the title of one of her favorite books. Mine too - it makes me laugh. And this morning she kept repeating the word "eye" in response to me pointing out the eye (singular) on her Ugly Doll.

She also understands things now. When I say "let's go play with your blocks" she'll run into the living room and tip over the box of Haba sticky bricks (awesome for toddlers!). So she is starting to "get" things.

But more importantly, she is starting to use words to communicate.

Which is how our week started. Dad flew to Geneva on Sunday night, so Monkey and I ate breakfast together (sans papa) on Monday morning. And what, you may ask, did our beloved insane toddler "say" that morning?

Dada. dada. dada. dada. dada. dada. dada. dadaadadadadadadadadadadada.........all with a little lilt to her voice, a questioning tone.

She wanted to know where daddy was. Awesome. Heart-achingly wonderful.

I have a sense that we are on a river of words, getting ready to go over a waterfall...we can't see it, but soon there is going to be a torrent of words streaming out her her little mouth. And once she starts talking, I don't think she'll stop.

Yeah, yeah. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. But hey, she looks and sleeps and has beautiful brown eyes just like her dad, so she might as well talk like her mom!

Camouflage

Monkey's school has a no-shoes policy in their room. Shoes are piled into a bucket outside their room, to help keep the germs off the carpet & floors, which we all know get licked occasionally (daily? hourly?) by the toddlers....yummy.

Each day, when I pick Monkey up from school, we have a ritual. She sits on the wee bench (her size - so cute!) and we put on her shoes. Unfortunately, during the 48-odd seconds it takes me to lace up her sneakers, Monkey likes to rummage through the bucket. In fact, she will often spurn my attempts to get her shoes on, in order to go rummage through the bucket.

I have two problems with this:

1) She is touching the soles of the shoes....of toddlers who don't know better than to avoid doggy doo and other nasty substances on the sidewalks of New York.

2) She always ALWAYS grabs the same pair of shoes to play with.....and they are ugly. Not only are they the plastic monstrosities known as Crocs, they are a heinous color combination: the plastic is a babysh*tbrown, and the fabric is a tan camouflage. Ew.

Problem #1 can be solved by washing her hands. No problem.

Problem #2 requires more work. Either we need to start watching episodes of Sex & the City together (hello Manolo Blahniks!) OR, Monkey needs to go to Deer Camp on November 3rd so she can get this obsession with camoflague out of her system and switch to either bright red or blaze orange:

Grandpa Larson would be proud.

Picasso, interrupted

Monkey is exploring her artistic side at her montessori. They color, they paint, and her daily reports have noted that she enjoys using each and every color when painting. A budding Picasso!

However, yesterday's report made me laugh out loud. It spoke about how Monkey was painting, using each color, greatly enjoying herself....and how when she was done, she wadded up the paper and threw it away.

Perhaps our budding genius didn't think her artwork was up to snuff? It was a draft of a masterpiece? Or, maybe, she's just so used to watching me clean up and throw everything away that she assumes that's where all paper goes....

Regardless, I'm convinced she's brilliant. Brilliant! See, she is already starting to read!...... heh

Daddy's girl

Last week I went to Texas and spent way too much time inside a strange biosphere (hello, Pauly Shore??? yech) hotel/convention center. For the record, Grapevine, TX has little to recommend it. And the Gaylord Hotel and Convention Center there is perfectly adequate....just so long as you don't want to get outside for sunlight or fresh air. After a few days I thought I might be getting rickets....

But I digress. The main point is that Monkey and her Dad were on their own. They sang together, read books, played with toys and chased each other all through the apartment. They relaxed the 5-second rule...and ate cheerios off of the floor.

In short, they bonded.

So this morning, as Dad was going out the door, Monkey and I stood there to say our goodbyes....and Monkey did the most amazing thing.

As I was holding her in my arms, Dad said bye-bye. Monkey leaned into him, reached our her arms, and hugged him with her little head leaning on his chest.

I about died with happiness, watching this scene. She's daddy's little girl.

snoozin' on the job

Attention dear readers:

WillpostlatertiredfromconferenceinTexas. Yeehaw.

MamaCarter

Phew, I'm exhausted

Monkey is officially a kid. A scabby-kneed, sand-eating, thrilled-to-be-alive kid. Wow is she fun.

And her dad and me? We're tired!

This weekend we:

• Drove to the middle of CT to an amusement park that time forgot - it was so cheesy, it was awesome. I've even got photos of Monkey behind the "muscle man" cutout....
• Let Monkey dance to a DJ (company picnic at aforementioned amusement park) that played - by far - the worst/best collection of music I've heard since I was at a wedding that involved copious drinkin' and dancin'....and let's just say that Monkey likes to shake her thang to such tunes as "Baby Got Back" and "Push It."
• Let Monkey run and run and - whoops! she just skinned both knees - on asphalt.
• Watched Monkey inhale no less than 6 slices of watermelon. By herself. Look ma, no bib! Messy.
• Put Monkey into her swimsuit and let her run through the sprinklers in Riverside Park....in October. Global warming......it's freakishly hot here.
• Watched Monkey eat sand. Sandboxes, they're the next "hot" diet in town....
• Generally had so much fun we wore ourselves out.

Thankfully, my beloved Yankees weren't too exhausted and won last night, forcing game 4 in the American League Division Series!! Huzzah! Go Yankees!!!! (yes, I'm watching the game tonight. don't call, I won't answer.......)

Croup stinks

Monkey has croup. She has been barking like a seal, mostly at night. It would be humorous, that barking noise, if Monkey wasn't sick and scared.

So far she has had 3 doses of an oral steriod, which has helped reduce the swelling in her throat/larynx.

She no longer sounds like Lauren Bacall after a long hard night of drinking, but she still has some coughing fits from time to time.

The coughing fits scare her. Last night she was coughing and she literally tried to crawl into the corner and hide. It broke my heart. I am so glad she is on the mend.

MBA-speak

MBA-speak. You know, the jargon that many people learn in B-School and then inflict upon the rest of us: it isn't "supplies" it is Allocation and Replenishment Management.....and "collaboration" gets distended into "interoperate with supply chain partners and break down functional silos..."....gee, and I thought it meant collaborate!

This slang has even infiltrated our DAYCARES!

Case in point: yesterday, Monkey took the lunch boxes and stacked them like blocks. So, in her daily report from her wonderful Montessori, they wrote that she was "thinking outside the box."

I think they meant that she was being creative, but that's just my WAG.

It's banned books week!

Uffda, I'm late to the party.....but it is banned books week!


This is a list (from the American Library Association) of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books.

Can you believe (indignation! outrage! puzzlement!) that some folks want to ban I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou ? Or To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee? Oh come on....A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein???? Sheesh.

Fight censorship folks.

If we let people ban books, we let them ban ideas. And freedom and democracy are about the proliferation of different ideas, ideals, and individuals.

Husker du?

When I was a kid, I would spend hours playing the memory game Husker Du (the phrase means "Do you remember" in Norwegian).

Yesterday Monkey was being helpful at lunchtime, taking each child's lunchbox and properly identifying it - by name, or by bringing it to the right kid. Color me impressed. This kid pays attention! She remembers things!

Mmm, this post is letting me relive my teenage years, back when I hung out with skateboarders...

A Rose by any other name....

So The King read my blog a few nights ago.

After a few wry comments, such as "your blog has a lot of attitude" (well, duh!), The King said that he wasn't pleased with his nickname on the site.

I use nicknames to protect our identities. Friend and family already know who we are...it's the rest of you lurkers I'm avoiding. Just to be clear.

So, since The King doesn't like his nickname, I think we should have a contest. The person who suggest the winning nickname gets:

• lifelong bragging rights
• the ability to gloat over us non-creative types
• a measure of infamy
• but wait, there's more! we even want you have to have this six in one kitchen tool! (oh, sorry, channeling the late-night standard from my youth, the ginsu knife ad...)

So drink your morning coffee, put on your thinkin' hat, and whip me up some creative nicknames for my beloved husband. For MY HUBBY. (yes, that's for you, ChaChi Lu.....just to make your hair stand on end.....).