I’m prone to these, so please be patient.

Lawn care people. Why do they want to talk to me? They ring my doorbell, inevitably just after Smiley has fallen asleep. The dog goes crazy, the baby wakes up, and I’m hopping mad. Here’s what I don’t get–my yard clearly looks like crap by their standards. It’s full of buttercups and clover with a nice sprinkling of dandelions. Why do they think that means I want to pay them to pour chemicals onto my property so it will look different? Why don’t they interpret my lawn’s appearance as a clear sign of my not caring what my lawn looks like? Shouldn’t they be trying to find clients who are deeply invested in the well-being of their lawns? People who don’t want their Bermuda grass slumming it with the weeds? What they should be doing is driving around giving the people with the competitors’ signs in their yards better prices. Those are people who are down with the chemicals and the expense. I’m interested in neither, which is why my yard is full of buttercups. I happen to like buttercups, and I’m not paying someone to kill them.  We’ve had three nap-time visitors in the last month or so, and they have inspired me to consider a “No Soliciting” sign.

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It all started at kindergarten round-up. Tulip was too nervous to enjoy herself as much as we had hoped, but Smiley was in his element. The round-up was, of course, geared toward the rising kindergarten student, so Tulip was given a passport with pages for each of the areas she was supposed to explore. She toured classrooms, the gym, the cafeteria, the art room, the music room, the guidance classroom, and the nurse’s station, earning a stamp at each stop. Everyone was very nice, and after she got warmed up she seemed to have a bit more fun, but it was slow going.

Smiley, on the other hand, figured out a few rooms into the experience that he was being left out, and he didn’t like it a bit. Sure, they let the whole family into the rooms, and we all got to play with the toys and sit on the story time rugs, but did anyone introduce him? No! How rude! What was a boy to do? He was going to need to introduce himself, obviously, and so he did. At every opportunity, he would wait patiently until Lennie and the teacher had exchanged names and then interject, “And my name Binny!” The little guy can’t say his Fs yet, but he still wants in on the fun.

The introductions have continued in the weeks since the round-up. At Blockbuster, I had to say my name so that my account could be looked up, and he took that as his cue to begin introducing not just himself, but me as well. “That’s my momma!” he declared in his most earnest voice. I translated for the man who was checking us out. “That’s my momma, and my name Binny!” he continued. I translated. “That’s my momma. My name Binny, and I’m pooting!” he decided to share. At this point Tulip was cracking up, since she understood him perfectly, but the movie guy was looking at me expectantly for the translation. I told Smiley that we typically don’t tell complete strangers when we poot, so I guess the man got all the explanation he wanted.

Smiley’s undaunted approach to strangers has made me struggle to figure out if my surprise (and amusement) with this trait is a result of how different he and nearly-5-year-old Tulip are or if 2-year-old Tulip was this outgoing. I remember thinking she was fairly outgoing and being amazed by everything about her personality, but I can’t take a step back and compare my two 2-year-olds. Tulip’s almost-5 is too all-consuming to allow more than glimpses of 2-year-old Tulip. I really wish I hadn’t been so overwhelmed by her then and had taken the time to jot down more reminders for myself.

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The main reason I considered homeschooling Tulip next fall had nothing to do with academics and everything to do with the way little girls treat one another. I wanted her to be older when she learned that some kids revel in excluding other children just because they can, but it turns out she experienced it for the first time in April instead of August. That was probably best because I was there to hear it happen, so I have an opportunity to eliminate the behavior now, avoiding the risk of having it creep in unexpectedly, which would give it an opportunity to flourish.

It happend the same way it usually does; one little girl, who I’m sure is a perfectly sweet child 99% of the time, decided that she would have more fun if she could remove another child from the group that had been playing happily for hours. I was off to the side playing with Smiley when I heard, “We’re going to go play another game in my backyard, and everyone can play except you, Mia.” No beating around the bush, huh? I looked up just in time to see Mia’s face crumple. I’m perfectly willing to admit that Mia may have been bossing everyone around or trying to alienate someone else moments before I overheard that sentence, but that’s immaterial. This behavior is everything I hate about elementary school playgrounds, and I’m not having it.

Apparently I’m not the only one who isn’t having it, because another mother swept in from the next yard over and removed her child from the situation just as I was telling the girls that there were not going to be any games that didn’t include everyone, and just like that, the group broke up into twos and threes and wandered in different directions.

Tulip didn’t immediately empathize with Mia in the way I had assumed she would. She complained that she had really wanted to play the newly proposed game, and when I asked if she would want to play if she was the one left out, she answered that she would have. I was too frazzled to rephrase the question to focus on how Mia must have felt at being left out, but I’m going to work on that today. She’s probably, at some point or another, going to exclude other children for sport, but at the very least, I want her to understand how much I loathe the behavior and how it hurts the one excluded.

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My baby turned two last week, and what a week it was! We had a very small party the Saturday before his birthday, and his two out-of-state aunts flew in for the festivities. One didn’t quite make it in time for the party, but she made it nonetheless, and we were thrilled to see her. The day after the party, my husband had to fly to Victoria, Canada for work, which left us to our own devices for the week. My plan was to stay very busy, so busy that the three of us couldn’t dwell on how much we missed him. That worked beautifully until Friday night, or perhaps I should say Saturday morning.

All week, I had kept Smiley and Tulip running from one activity to the next–museums, play dates, whole family sleep-overs, play grounds, flying kites, ice cream, and a dozen other activities. Friday, though, we had a lazy afternoon at home, and I think that we slowed down just enough to let missing Daddy catch up to the little guy. He had as much fun as anyone with our lazy day, but around 3:30 in the morning, a tiny, sad voice woke me from a sound sleep asking tearfully, “Mama, why no Daddy?” over and over again.

So began two full hours of pouring out every worry that faces a newly two-year-old little boy and crying both of our shirts wet. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so sad. He asked about his daddy, and when I told him that Daddy was already in a plane flying home to us, he wept that he was afraid of the plane. He worried that a noise downstairs (likely the cat jumping off the counter) was going to get us and wanted us to hide under the covers. He told me that he was afraid of dinosaurs that bite and whimpered some more. He told me his monkey helmet also “bites” him under the chin sometimes when I snap it on so that he can ride his tricycle. Between worries, he would snuggle and repeat after me that “Mommy’s got me; it’s okay” and cry himself nearly to sleep before ramping up into another topic of concern.

I had no idea he had so many worries, but clearly it’s harder to be two than I had realized. Watching him cuddled up with his daddy at night now that we’re all together again, without a care in the world, I’m just relieved that having both of us home helps to keep the worries at bay. Clearly just one parent isn’t enough to help him feel safe from dinosaurs and helmets that bite, not to mention scary noises that go bump in the night.

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Nicolas van Pallandt’s book, first published in the Netherlands, is a repeat library check-out for our family. We really enjoy its collection of odd creatures, not to mention Troll’s adventure. Blown away from his snug home in the dead of winter, Troll decides that because his home is so small and winter so large, he should search for summer instead of home. Lost in a shadowy forest of yawning trees where every rock is a sleeping gargoyle, a very cold Troll looks small and forlorn. When he finds an equally cold friend, Snike, who can only be described as a mouse-like creature who happens to have a light on the tip of his mousy tail, Troll is happy to share his scarf with a friend. The two meet many odd and confused creatures before finally seeing a bit of summer’s warm light in the distance. Of course, the light turns out to be the open door of Troll’s warm home, where the friends spend the rest of winter safe and warm.

The illustrations are lovely, and the metaphor of home as the heart of summer in a dark, cold world is just philosophical enough for a young child to appreciate without confusion. I’m sad that the book is apparently out of print but very happy that our library has a copy. 

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We had such a nice day today. It was beautiful, sunny, and a pleasant temperature that isn’t cold but still makes me appreciate a sweater. My response to the sun and blue sky was enough to make me wonder if I have a bit of seasonal affective disorder. Maybe not, but I felt like my favorite flower, the daffodil, poking its head out and blooming after a long, dark winter. At any rate, today was perfect–story time at the library and lunch out with the nice family down the street, watching Harriet the Spy with Tulip while Smiley Face napped, a walk during which we pretended to be spying on spring complete with binoculars and a notebook, and best of all, breakfast for dinner.

While I got started cooking, the kids played quietly at the kitchen table before a quick trip out with their daddy to pick up our fresh milk for the week. We’ve had the kid version of a table top Zen sand box for a long time, and we have always pulled it out when we needed a little time to cook. It works best if it disappears for a while before its miraculous rediscovery. Unfortunately, now that I have two kids who are interested in playing with it, there is usually a bit of disagreement about who plays with what. I suppose I could buy another, but we don’t really need two taking up space in the already crowded craft nook. Instead, we’ve been using a casserole dish, rice, rocks from our rock collection, and small cars and trucks that we already have around as an extra. They share the tiny shovel and rake from the original sand box with minimal bickering. Smiley Face loves the imposter so much that he cried when dinner was ready and the rice tray had to go even though dinner included pancakes. That’s what I call a distraction!

After everyone was happy again, we had one of our favorite dinners. Who has time to make a big breakfast with any regularity? I know we don’t, particularly since our kids wake up starving frequently before the sun is even up. I’m in no shape to do much more than hand the kids bananas and make myself coffee at that point, so every once in a while we cook a lovely breakfast for dinner. I think the family’s favorite part is the bacon from a local farmer, but since that’s fairly hard to replicate without getting to know Farmer Dave of River Ridge Farm, which you should definitely do so that you can try all of his delicious offerings, I’ll share the the recipe for my favorite part, the whole wheat pancakes.

•  1 cup whole wheat (the more freshly ground the better)
• 1 egg
• 1 tbsp brown sugar
• 3 tsp baking powder
• 3/4 milk (buttermilk if you have it)
• 2 tbsp melted butter
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1 mashed banana
• 

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Our favorite library book of the week is Why? by Lindsay Camp and Tony Ross. Not only does this story feature a little girl saving the world armed only with her curiosity, but it’s also a great reminder for parents of the value of a child-like quest for knowledge. Rather than getting grumpy when asked “why?” a million times, this week I’ll be reminding myself that the world would be a better place if more than just preschoolers asked the very same thing.

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How sad is it that two posts that are more than a year old still cause most of my blog hits.   I don’t even play kh anymore.

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We’re decorating our playroom, and one of the little projects for the daddy is the creation of the magnetic board. He found a big sheet of dry erase board and some molding to frame the board with. Since Smiley is too young to understand why it’s okay to write on this one wall hanging with this one type of marker but not okay to write on the rest of the walls and furnishings with any sort of marker, we’re using the back of the dry erase board for now. We bought some magnetic paint to coat it with, and the creation process has begun.

While that adults-only activity was in progress on our back porch this afternoon, the kids and I played around on the bottom step. We painted wooden letter cut-outs that will be our magnets. We’re planning to glue small but strong magnets on the backs when the time comes, but for now, we were just coloring and painting. The craft was a hit, and the letters look great.

Supplies

• wooden letters (approximately $3 for 36 letters)
• oil pastels (though you could try regular crayons if you want)
• water color paint, brushes, water

The Three Steps: Unpainted, drawn on, painted.

Finished Product

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Story: Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes.

Pre-Reading Discussion Questions

• Has anyone ever teased you?
• How did that make you feel?
• How did you wish that person would treat you?
• How should we treat others?
• Why should we treat people that way?
• Have you ever been unkind to anyone?
• How do you think think that made him or her feel?
• What does the word respect mean?

Post Reading Questions

• How did Jo, Rita, and Victoria treat Chrysanthemum?
• What did they tease Chrysanthemum about?
• How did their treatment make Chrysanthemum feel?
• When did Jo, Rita, and Victoria change their minds about Chrysanthemum’s name?
• How did you know they had changed their minds?
• Why did they change their minds?
• Why did the fact that their favorite teacher had a name like Chrysanthemum’s and was planning to name her baby Chrysanthemum change their minds about the name?
• Should it matter whether or not something about a person–a name, an outfit, a hobby, etc.–is cool or not when we are deciding how to treat that person?
• What should matter when we decide how to treat a person?

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