My caveman

I read an article in the New York Times the other day that spoke about communicating with toddlers, called "Coping with the Caveman in the Crib."

To paraphrase, while we (allegedly rational adults) get primal when we are frustrated and angry, toddlers (who are already primal) "go Jurassic."

I about fell out of my chair laughing - that is so Monkey! Maybe her nickname should be Pebbles?

On Language (apologies to William Safire)

I had a nightmare moment yesterday afternoon. The phone rang at work and I immediately recognized the number as Monkey's daycare; I answered thinking it was the worst and Monkey needed to go to the hospital or doctor or something....it is quite amazing, how many vivid (and awful) scenarios your mind can produce in the 3 seconds it takes to reach out, grab the receiver, and say hello.

It wasn't anything like that, just that her main teacher wanted to talk to me one-on-one about Monkey's language. Needless to say that very short conversation gave me a heart attack, and I was convinced we'd have to put Monkey into an early intervention class starting today.

After a much longer conversation when I picked Monkey up at school, I learned that Monkey is lagging a bit in language skills, at least compared to what she comprehends and the kids she is in class with. However, after talking with Monkey's godmom (the pediatrician), I am satisfied that Monkey is well within the normal range of language developement - although admittedly at the less developed end of the spectrum.

Turns out she uses a lot more words with us than she does at school, and a lot of that is personality driven. She is stubborn and if someone else answers the question or says the word first (like in response to flash cards) she won't answer. Period. I imagine her internal dialogue runs something like this: "what, are you deaf? that kid ALREADY said doggy. let's get a move on, folks..."

She also gets stubborn (and I do mean mulish) and will use some words with some teachers but not with others. Manipulative little bugger! So, we do need to work with her on language, and make her (um, hello temper tantrums) use her words instead of asking her a series of yes/no questions and letting her communicate that way. In other words, stop making it easy on her.

On the way home I bought some flash cards at a childrens book store, thinking we'd "try" it....and lo and behold, she really liked it! Huzzah! Best 3 dollars I ever spent. Turns out she even knows words I've never even tried to teach her - like fish. Cool. And so interesting to realize how much she knows that I don't even know she knows. (And if that isn't an awkward sentence I don't know what it.)

I called one of my closest friends to tell her this story, and she asked if my parents laugh when I tell them stories about how pig-headed stubborn Monkey can be. I said yes, they think it is hilarious. So apparently it's my karma, to have a stubborn kid.

Everyone that knows me? All together now, nod your head and laugh.

Just like the Patriots....

Just like the Patriots' undefeated season, all good things come to pass....

To wit, Monkey's streak of cold-free days has ended. I officially had to wipe away boogers this morning. Sigh.

Do you think if I threw it a ticker-tape parade, her immune system would beat off more colds?

Meow meow

Every morning I follow roughly the same routine. Somewhere in the mix of things, usually wedged between putting in my contacts and taking my shower, I brush my beloved cat Ollie.

Ollie has a lot of fur. When she was a kitten, I trained her to stand on the toilet seat to be brushed; this was easy on my back, as I could sit on the edge of the tub, and it limited the flying fur to one part of the apartment. (yes, I've always been slightly anal. thank you for noticing)

To this day, Ollie will race you down the hallway and hop on the toilet seat as you enter the bathroom, ever hopeful that you are there to brush her (and not use the facilities).

Ollie is a trusting cat. I can flip her on her back and brush her belly. She lets exactly two people in the world handle her this way, me and Monkey's daddy. We are her humans.

As I flipped Ollie this morning for a full belly brushing, and both felt and listened to the deep guttural purring rumbling out of her, I thought of what an emblem of trust this was: a cat, fully exposed. Because come on, how many cats have you ever known that would willingly do that?

I remember my childhood pet, Puff, and how she would hide when my neighbor Buddy would come over. Buddy had teased her maybe three times, and she decided that she was done with him. Now, he grew to be a perfectly decent man, husband and father. I'm happy he is still my friend. But I remember how he violated Puff's trust and that was it.

I hope Monkey grows up to be deserving of Ollie's trust. While dogs are seemingly incapable of not loving humans, cats are more picky. Like us humans, with our opposable thumbs and complex emotions, cats only trust you if you earn it, and earn it consistently.

Maybe that should be our model for teaching Monkey to deal with both humans and animals. She needs to consistently treat them with the respect and compassion they deserve. She needs to prove, each time she deals with them, that she is worthy of their trust.

So far, she is winning Ollie's trust. A serious infusion of treats helps this process along. But so does Monkey's willingness (and ability) to gently pet and hug Ollie, her "meow meow." Ok, all together now, say "awwwwww."

Community

There is a new restaurant in the 'hood, called Community Food & Juice.

Along with Nana, who graced us with her presence (and babysitting skills - suhweet!) on Saturday night, we took Monkey to brunch at Community on Sunday morning.

Two (ok, 3) things were of note:

1. It is necessary to get there early. 45 minutes after the place opened it was jammed with families.
2. The food is awesome.
3. I had completely forgotten how enjoyable it is to eat a meal, in public, without serving as the referee in a food-chucking contest!

Monkey ate her meal (big ole bowl of fresh fruit) and drank out of a real (plastic) cup and only threw, maybe, 3-4 cheerios on the ground!

I felt so civilized, I didn't even know what to do with myself. And, it was nice to not have to leave a 30% tip to pay off the staff for their post-Monkey clean up efforts, including bringing in the power washer to scrub down the table, chairs, floor and any surrounding surfaces coated in semi-chewed cheerios and general toddler debris.