Digital native

These days, there is a lot of talk about digital natives versus digital immigrants. As in, those that are born to it versus those that learn later in life. I am a digital immigrant. I only got a phone (and data plan) that could handle texting in any quantity because that's how my babysitters communicate. Now that I text I confess I really like it. But I had to be convinced.

Monkey and Jellybean, on the other hand, are bound to view texting as downright archaic by the time they demand their own phones: they are growing up with this technology and will never realize that life didn't always exist this way.

Kind of like when my mom would tell me the story of what a big deal it was when the first family in her neighborhood got a color TV. I was flabbergasted that TV had ever even existed in black and white! And somehow, putting a man on the moon always seemed like something that - of course! - we could do. Mind you I was born less than six months after that event...but to me, life had always been that way.

Jellybean is funny. Her temper tantrums in public almost always involve me denying her access to my phone or blackberry. When we were in DC back in December, we let her play with the DVD remote at the hotel because it didn't matter if she turned it on or off, it wasn't like the whole system would turn on (versus here, where we have one godwand with ALL the devices programmed into it). And even at one year of age, she'd hit a button, then turn and look at the TV expectantly...she knows how remotes work. (god I can hear myself now....Jellybean, I had to walk up hill both ways when I was a kid, and I even had to (the horrors!) get off my tush and go to the TV to change channels, can you believe it? Also, I had dinosaurs as pets, since I'm that old....)

Jellybean's love of all things electronic includes a blossoming love affair with the humidifier in our room. Even when we latch the door in a semi-closed position, she'll wiggle in between the door and the jamb, barely eeking through, so that she can go turn the humidifier on, then off, then on, then off....it's love, I tell you. In fact, anything that she can turn off or on is adored. And some toys? They're getting left behind....alas, no battery or electricity required.

Dinosaur Fricassee

Two week ends ago our best friends visited. We had a wonderful time, despite the psychotic NYC weather; hot, then rainy, then hot, then rainy

ButWhyMommy, Bubs and Bunny all stayed with us. Yes, there were 7 people (and one cat!) in our apartment. Sleeping arrangements were....a bit different than we had anticipated, but now we know that Bubs can sleep on the carpet if tired enough. (And for the record, NO. I do not make a habit of making my guests sleep on the floor..but look, when their OWN KID kicks them out of bed, whattaya gonna do? But I digress).

Bunny is obsessed with dinosaurs. She has a lovey stuffed animal Triceratops, and another one with some sort of a duck bill she calls Machine (my own knowledge of dinosaurs fails me here), and again - she LOVES dinosaurs. A lot. A lot, a lot, a lot. Which is why she was so happy to see that Monkey has a collection of small plastic dinosaurs.

Unfortunately, Monkey has a very slightly different idea how to play with these dinosaurs. Which is to say that she was cooking them on her play-kitchen,"with carrots."

This was not acceptable to Bunny.

And by not acceptable I mean that Bunny was bound and determined to rescue the dinosaur AT ALL COSTS; she snatched that dinosaur out of Monkey's hand and (no surprise) was then chased by Monkey around the room until Bunny was literally standing on the couch, with her hand stretched up into the air, trying to get the dinosaur as far away from Monkey's outstretched hand as humanly possible.

You know, to save it from extinction a second time.

ButWhyMommy and I intervened, and there was a discussion about sharing. Bunny apologized to Monkey, and Monkey.....well, she went back to cooking the dinosaur as if nothing had happened. (hoo boy is she stubborn. Yes, yes, pot meet kettle. I know.)

I imagine twenty years from now this story will have a well-worn feeling, from being trotted out again and again, and rehashed under the "do you remember when" rubric of storytelling that helps tie friends (and family) together. I can't wait to accumulate the stories these two friends will have.

Octagenarian Toy

So apparently there is an 80-year old toy-mouse that lives in my stroller.

What’s that you say? An octogenarian toy mouse? Yes, yes, you heard (*read*) that correctly.

How else could you explain the fact that Monkey named the mouse finger-puppet "Ira?"

I mean, seriously! Only grandpas are named Ira. Not that there is anything wrong with that.*

*kudos if you get that reference!

Requiem for a dinosaur

This past weekend we went to a birthday party for one of Monkey's best friends. His parents put up not one, but TWO kiddie pools in their backyard. Monkey had so much fun I thought we might need to live in their basement, as she was never ever going to want to leave.

But, R's parents made parting such sweet sorrow (instead of teeth-grinding temper-tantrums), by handing out goody bags to the kids as they left. So, you don't wanna leave? OK, no problem, no gifts for you........and lo and behold! Away those kids went! Such smart parents.

Monkey's bag was full of little plastic dinosaurs. Which are now about her most favorite posessions in the world. I think only her books and ABC blankie come first....

This morning she begged to take them to school. She had all of them in a bag, ready to go, and was very sad to be granted permission to only take two. She's such a haggler! I said one, she said "THREE" (while holding up her hand with three fingers....like that unbearably cute demonstration might sway me...oh crap, fine, it worked and she got two. What can I say, it was cute!).

Once we got to school, Monkey wanted to hold the elevator open to "help" out. Of course, her body is in the way so everyone is squeezing in and out and it's chaos. But hey, she's helping! And polite! and OH NOOOOOOOOO one of her little dinosaurs fell into the crack between the elevator and the building floor.

It had plummeted to its death. Tears were streaming down Monkey's cheeks and she was taking little, hitching, breaths as she told me what happened in between these sad little sobs.

I decided not to brush this off. We got to the next floor, and after everyone emptied out of the elevator, I took her hand and said "Monkey, let's take a moment to grieve and say goodbye. Your dinosaur has fallen into the center of the earth and won't be coming back."

Monkey leaned forward, looking down the crack as if she could see that teeny dinosaur at the bottom of the elevator shaft, waved, and said "bye bye dinosaur." It would have been hilarious if it wasn't just so sad!

Milwaukee, or where the dinosaurs roam

We spent this past weekend with probably our closest friends in the world, in their lovely home (don't believe the hype about the "crapshack") in Milwaukee, WI.

We had a blast.

Their daughter, aka Bunny, is obsessed with dinosaurs. She's also 8 months older than Monkey and, um, freakishly smart. So watching the two of them interact was awesome. And gave us a preview of what life will be like with two ankle biters/insane toddlers in the apartment.

Bunny would flip about which particular (anklyosauraus, for example) dinosaur Monkey was not allowed to touch and which she "didn't want to share"....Monkey would shrug like, ok, damn woman, I can't say that word so you can have your dinosaur all to yourself. Relieved, Bunny would recant her toddler ways and offer the toy up for inspection. It was hilarious! And adorable. Thankfully, Bunny is good at sharing and Monkey was really more obsessed with the rubbery lizards than the actual dinosaurs, so it all worked out well. But for the first ten minutes of our visit I thought it might get ugly.

Also, at first they did the whole parallel play thing. But soon, they were having actual conversations. To wit:

Bunny: What 'cha got?
Monkey: Got my blanket.
Bunny: Oh, ok.

I know, it doesn't sound like two geniuses in the making, but trust me...it was cool. They had a conversation! Like two kids do! Like OMG BFF!!! Awesome, all around.

Gifts

Have you ever noticed that the gift often tells more about the giver than the recipient?

To illustrate:

On Christmas eve, Monkey wore an adorable red corduroy dress with black scotties on it. A gift from Nana. On Christmas day, Monkey wore a scrumptious dress with a crinoline and matching red & green barrettes (with wee jingle bells!), also from Nana. And on Christmas day, Monkey opened up a present from Nana - an adorable jumpsuit with a velvet collar.

On Christmas eve, Monkey was allowed to "open" (and by this I mean gleefully shred the paper) one present from Grandma, a stuffed animal puppy dog that talks, plays songs, and chatters away when you press its nose, paw, belly, etc. On Christmas day, Monkey received another riotous, joyfully noisy present from Grandma, in the form of an electronic keyboard shaped like a kitty cat, complete with a microphone for impromptu karaoke sessions. Grandma also gave her a little yellow duck that quacks when squeezed.

Now, pop quiz:

Who do you think has a walk-in closet, and an annual shopping trip with the girlfriends to NYC?

Now, who do you think has kept a basket of toys in the front-hall closet, "just in case" a kid stopped by?

I bet you guessed correctly!

Now, to be fair - both are smashing dressers, and both love toys. Still, it makes me chuckle!