It was almost bedtime last night and I urged Maggie to get out of the stroller so we could go inside. Unbeknownst to me, she was engaged in some sort of important task (zipping something, unzipping something, fixing a wrinkled sock, etc.) Maggie’s exasperated response:
“Daddy, you unfocused me!”
Apparently this is me trying to lick a dolphin (for real). But seriously, I can’t say enough about our art classes at Art with Ellen! Ellen is an amazing teacher with attention to detail specific to the age group she’s working with. Maggie is a reluctant artist in the sense that she often feels like she’s “doing it wrong.” Ellen brings so much enthusiasm and positive guidance, Maggie has been flourishing. Thank you to Grummy for this gift of classes! We’ve both been thoroughly enjoying them.
<scene: Griffin, Maggie, and friend, Zoe, sitting at the little kid table having snack. I had just handed Zoe some tea>
Zoe: Thank you, Madame!
Griffin: Madame! Damn! Dammit!
Zoe: It’s DARNit.
Maggie: No, it’s dammit.
This morning, per her Wednesday custom, Sarah went to an outdoor workout in the pre-sunrise Minnesota air. (Blizzard last night? Pshaw.) But this post isn’t about Sarah’s well-known bad-assery. Just setting the scene: I’m solo dad.
So at 6:30, I’m down in the kitchen, making my breakfast, steeling myself to shovel the walk and trudge through the very deep snow to school. Griffin comes down earlier than usual — fully dressed — excited for a snow day. (His school was cancelled. Mine was not.) He settles down at the art table to paint some volcanoes. Maggie comes padding into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and croaks, “Where’s Mama?”
I remind her that Mama vanishes on Wednesday morning. She looks sad and cold, and may burst out crying at any moment. Griffin sees this and says, “Maggie, would you like to paint with me at the art table?” Maggie looks up, but shakes her head… not interested. Griffin’s shoulder’s slump, but then he takes a deep breath, and says, “Ok. Would you like me to read a book to you on the couch?” Maggie considers this for a moment, and slowly nods her head. Moments later, they are snuggled up on the couch reading a book together. And my heart is bursting.
Me: Ooooh! What are you today?
Maggie: A MOM!
(That’s right. I model awesome sword wielding mom behavior for my children!)
Recently, I walked with the kids to some of our neighborhood Little Free Libraries. While walking, we started talking about whether we would someday put one in front of our house, even though there is one directly across the street from us.
I suggested that I might make one that was all for science fiction stories, and I would decorate it with space ships and alien planets. Griffin and Maggie loved this idea, and quickly came up with their own versions.
Griffin’s would be all about science and would have pictures of microscopes and tiny (microscopic?) creatures on it. He asked a few questions about the difference between science and science fiction, but once he understood the distinction, he was firmly committed to real science.
Maggie, of course, shouted, “FROZEN!” When I asked her how it should be decorated, she looked at me like I was hopelessly ignorant, and said, “ELSA!” followed by a whooshing sound which I took to be the sound of Elsa’s ice magic.
<struggling to help Maggie get her long underwear and pants on at the same time over her already sock-ed feet>
Me: Push with all your might, Maggie!
Maggie: I don’t have any might left!
#wintertruths
Maggie is a verbal kid, talking pretty much all the time. She’s generally an effective communicator, conveying her points successfully, even if she doesn’t ultimately get what she wants. (So many foiled plans, resulting in extravagant drama.)
One quirk of language with her recently is that she has trouble with words relating to the past and future, especially today, yesterday, and tomorrow. She knows what they mean, and can use them in sentences, but she seems bothered by their fluidity: tomorrow becomes today becomes yesterday. To get around this, she’s taken to a using the phrase “this day” to indicate today. Then she adds events with before or after until she clarifies what she means.
Here’s an example that we just heard in the car—she’s excited about her grandparents’ visit tomorrow:
“Mama, this day, after we sleep and wake up, is it grandma and grandpa day?”
No reason to share this other than that Sarah and I think it is unbearably cute, and we know it will fade away in time and we’ll never quite remember how she worded it.
Update: I’ve since been listening to Maggie using this construction and noticed that she also has an alternative to the word yesterday: “last day.” She might say, for example, “Daddy, last day, did you go to school?”
“Daddy, when I look in the mirror, I really do look like a superhero.” — Maggie
Today marks our first morning of the season with significant ice outside. We’ve had a few frosts and light glazes, but nothing you could slide around on. Griffin, Maggie, Zoe, and Cedar had a blast sliding around before the older kids caught the bus to school. On our walk back to the house, Maggie suggested that I take a picture to send to Mama (who is in iceless San Diego). Good thinking!
