One of my favorite things to do with Sam lately has been just to talk with her. Her verbal abilities have developed to the point where they can sustain actual conversations instead of strings of simple declarative sentences, and she’s gotten savvy enough to explain her thought processes, reasoning, emotions, and other things that she could never really let us in on before. She’s even moving on to more complex and abstract concepts like time, though the concept of a time before she existed completely bamboozles her. She insisted, for example, that she must have been at Ger and mine’s wedding 10 years ago but just doesn’t remember it, probably because she sat in the back.
Lately, though, she’s been fixated on the concept of the future. One day while sitting in her car seat she piped up with “I don’t see any futures here.” Seeing this as a rather pessimistic viewpoint, I explained that the future was something that hasn’t happened yet, like her next birthday. And that when I say something like “In the future, I wish you wouldn’t ask ‘Why?’ after every statement I make” it means that you shouldn’t do that any more. And actually, I wish she wouldn’t do it in the present, and the past for that matter.
This seemed to give her brain something to gnaw on, but apparently her synapses got kind of tangled along the way because last night she got up out of bed, wandered into our bedroom, and announced that “I don’t like the futures. I think there’s futures at Homer Simpson’s house. But the futures are only at my birthday.” She then turned around and padded back down the dark hallway to her room, ignoring my questions about a bad acid trip.
Sam continues to be Little Queen Bossy, often insisting on directing every nuance of our playtime fun. Which isn’t that fun. We all went to the bookstore the other day so I could get that certain new book that just came out, and we turned Sam loose to pick out her own. Despite my attempts at luring her over to the shelves full of Dr. Seuss and other classics, Sam bowed to the brainless attraction of merchandised crap like Disney, Blue’s Clues, and Care Bears. Much to my exasperation the book she finally picked out was some insipid Strawberry Shortcake drivel about how the titular character forgot to take her lunch to school and had to have her dog (named, of course, Pupcake or Poopcake or something equally inane) retrieve it for her.
I, on the other hand, was trying to push a book I had found called Bossy Bear on her. It’s about an obnoxious little bear who bosses everyone around and demands that everything be done his way until he discovered that people will eventually tell him to just go to hell and leave them alone. I thought this might be a better message to subtly get across to Miss Bossy Britches than having some pastry-themed menagerie retrieve a bag full of sandwiches, but what do I know? In the end, Sam miraculously decided that she didn’t like the Strawberry Shortcake book after all and that I could just pick one out for her. So Bossy Bear it was, and you know what? She loves it. She wants to read it constantly and I think she may even be taking the hint because she’ll now occasionally say “I’m not a Bossy Bear!” and let me actually offer a playtime suggestion. Neat. Thanks, children’s books section at Borders!
Mandy has been doing fine. She’s continuing to become a better eater, and I think I’m required by law to share a photograph of her with mashed prunes smeared all over her face. So here you go. She got her second ever dip in a swimming pool last weekend, showing off her new swimsuit. On the same topic, this picture totally cracks me up for some reason, probably because of what Sam’s doing in the background. I dunno, I’m easily moved to mirth sometimes.
It’s been fun watching Mandy grow up, because for all the differences between her and her sister (and there are several) it’s still exciting to watch them go through the same stages. Mandy now rolls around like and can almost sit up unassisted. She also recognizes her name and will turn to you if you say it. Being a good student of the scientific method I’ve tried saying other words in the same tone –“Cucumber!” “Ancillary!”– and she largely ignores me unless it’s her name. So that’s cool. And man, I’d almost forgotten how great it is to just get unconditional affection and glee out of someone just by moving into her field of vision. This kid, she loves to smile and she’ll give you one just for the asking.
I love the close-up of Ger & Mandy! Also, I have had the same trials with my daughter at bookstores. She always wants the Disney crap. I’ve found that on those book racks with the Disney/Blue’s Clues/Strawberry Shortcake there are actually some good ones, so sometimes I can segue her over to the good stuff.
Annalie has that same problem with comprehending a world before she was born. She also says things like, “Someday when I’m a grown-up and you are a baby, I will rock you in a chair!” or, “Remember when you were a baby and I was a grown-up, and we went to Gramaw’s house?”
We need to invest in the Bossy Bear book, I think. Henry deals pretty well with Emma being the boss (she’s effective, that way) but when she’s out playing with older kids in the neighborhood it doesn’t go over so well.
Both Marla and I feel kind of sad for her on those occasions. She has a HUGE imagination and wants to get everyone playing along. We all do at home so she doesn’t understand why the 7 year old up the street doesn’t want to pretend like they’re from Cars or My Pretty Ponies.
I think it’ll break my heart when Emma goes from her current innocent, earnest self to a bitter, jaded and sarcastic 1st grader.
Jamie, man, you really crack me up. Honestly: I laugh out loud reading your stuff!
Okay, starting at the top, yeah: it is great when you can have “adult” conversations with’em, isn’t it? Just wait. When they get about six or so, it gets sooooo much better. As for her visit to your bedroom, it sounds like she might have been processing you dialog in a dream to me, and perhaps was still not awake when she talked to you. Do either you or Ger sleepwalk? As for the bad acid trip, that’s where I started with the LOL stuff.
More LOL: “that certain new book”—what book could that be?
I think my son, Riley, needs Bossy Bear sometimes (he’s 6 (and a half!)—is he too old for it?)
I did that same experiment with Riley when he was recognizing his name (though I believe I used “Giraffe!” and “Infundibuliform!”)
Yeah, my the six-year-old has finally hit that point that we can discuss Star Wars, Nintendo and Tales of the Fourth Grade Nothing. She can actually communicate, woohoo! It’s cool.
And that year or so when your very presence can cheer a kid up is amazing. My son yell DAAAA!!!! every time I walk through the door, then is waddling over to me as fast as he can for me to hug him. I don’t remember the point that changed for my first, hopefully I still have a bit of time with the second.
Bethany: Thanks! Sounds like this kind of thing is par for the course.
Todd: Bossy Bear is a pretty simple book as far as the narrative goes. Emma can read herself, so it wouldn’t exactly be a challenge for her. But the underlying message is a little deeper and probably worth telling in story form.
Techsplorer: See above, Bossy Bear probably would be too childish for a 6 year old, though. Neither of us sleepwalks as far as I know. I don’t think Sam had actually gone to sleep yet when she got up that time, anyway.
Jeremy: Yeah, I can’t wait to start nerd-ifying Sam. 🙂