Week 238: Parties, Police, and Remotes

Had a pretty fun weekend this week. Sam has resumed her swim lessons, but the thing she was really looking forward to was a block party that our neighborhood put on. it started with a bike parade, which Sam participated in by slowly accelerating on her bike, then slamming on the brakes if she got going over half a mile an hour. If I was walking behind her at the time this resulted in my getting a groin full of bicycle seat or tire, and this happened a lot. more often than it really should have, which is to say that it happened more than once. Once we made it to the party, though, Sam had a blast. In fact, she had a little too much fun, to the point where she the police showed up, finger printed her, and took her for a little ride.

After she posted bail, though, she made it back in time to participate in the scavenger hunt. This event had all the kids splitting up into teams that raced around asking various attendees for items from a list –a blue rock, a Lego block, a 2008 coin, etc. Sam mostly ran around her pack of older kids, trailing behind like some kind of vestigial tail, but the event allowed her to run around and demand things of people, so she seemed to like it well enough.

Mandy also had fun, though she wasn’t able to socialize quite as well. It’s only a matter of time, though, since I’m convinced she understands pretty much everything we say. The other morning we had finished breakfast and retired to the living room, where Sam usually watches her daily hour of television.

“I want to watch a show,” she said. “I want to watch Clifford.”

I was sitting in a chair reading, so I told her “Okay, go find the remote and bring it to me.”

Now, despite our best efforts to teach her to the contrary, Sam seems convinced that if she ever doesn’t want to do something –clean up, find her blanket, climb the stairs– she can just press her head to the floor and mumble “Nooooo, I caaaaaan’t. I don’t know where it iiiiiis. Yoooooou dooooo it!” She did this now, at which point I returned to my reading and told her that she could watch whatever show she wanted when she brought me the remote.

As soon as I had finished my proclamation, Mandy, who was standing nearby watching the whole exchange, shouted “Remote!” then proceeded to walk across the room to the counter, select the correct remote control from an array of four different remotes (TiVo, TV, DVD player, and stereo), and bring it over to me. She grinned at me in triumph while Sam looked more than a little put out.

“Hooray!” I said, “Mandy got the remote! So I think Mandy should choose what show to watch.”

“Thomas!” Mandy shouted.

“Noooo!” Sam cried. “Not Thomas! Mandy, say ‘Clifford’.”

“Samantha,” I began.

“Clifford!” Mandy shouted.

I sighed. “Mandy, do you want to watch Thomas? Let’s watch Thomas.”

“Clifford!” Mandy repeated, glancing at Sammy.

“Dad,” Sam drawled, “she wants to watch Clifford. Come on!”

Grumbling, I started an episode of Clifford the Absurdly Large Red Dog. Mandy watched about 12 seconds of it, then wandered off to happily play by herself while her big sister sat glued to the rest of the show. I wondered who was getting the best of whom. Maybe that’s how Mandy wanted to play it all along.