Tag Archives: routines

Mundane details of life.

Oliver, Photo

Beds, Bikes, & Bottles

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Change is afoot in Oliver’s world.

Beds

Oliver is falling asleep in his crib (foreground) while Andrew reads “The Hobbit” to the kids under the loft.

First, as mentioned on Monday, Oliver is now sleeping in his new crib in the kids’ bedroom. We were planning on a more gradual transition, but Griffin and Maggie were so excited to have him move in that we went for it. It’s been pretty miraculous so far. Every night this week, they’ve all gone to bed at the same time, with no special rituals for Oliver. We generally hang out near the crib for a little bit while he falls asleep, but it’s pretty quick. Honestly, the whole thing is a bit spooky; he just lies down and falls asleep. Crazy!

Bikes

Our newest cyclist.

Oliver has been out on a couple of bike rides now in the iBert seat on Sarah’s bike. He loves it, and we love the fact that we have a new way of getting around town with him. The older kids enjoy riding their bikes, too, so this increases the whole family’s range of car-free transit. It’s hard to believe that this little guy will be riding his own bike in a few years.

Bottles

Hands in action.

This one might be better titled “Grasping” or “Manual Dexterity,” but they don’t have the same alliterative pizazz. Oliver has been getting better at using his little hands over the past month. He reaches for things intentionally, grasps objects we put in his hands, and likes to touch things within reach. (I like to walk around with him and let him touch different things—the bark of a tree, a smooth stone, a fuzzy towel—and watch him react to the different textures. On a more practical note, he can hold his bottle when he’s in his bouncy chair. He drops it frequently, but he loves trying to hold it and it gives us just a bit more leeway when we’re prepping a meal or trying to accomplish other tasks that require our hands.

Sarah

Good Morning

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I live for these moments of Zen: I overslept (because baby wakes up a lot still, and apparently when I get a chance, I am a log) and walked downstairs to my two oldest reading, one on the couch, one on a chair, baby bouncing in the bouncer, Regina Spektor on the stereo, and greeted with “Good morning Mama!”

Sarah

Doors

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Andrew, going nuclear: “If you two don’t knock it off and go to bed, I’m going to take a screwdriver and take that door right off and throw it away.”
<large pause>
Maggie: “You can’t even do that!”
Andrew: “Oh yes I can!”

I’m downstairs giggling even though I shouldn’t be. Giggling, that is.

Griffin, Maggie

Reading Time

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Our bedtime routine is not as structured as it used to be, though we do get the kiddos to bed by 7:30 most nights. (Which we know from experience is a major ingredient in the following day’s success.) But one thing we all love to do is read in bed together before lights out. On nights when we finish dinner early enough and the kids clean up, brush teeth, and get their PJs on in time, we pile onto the big bed in our bedroom and select a book to read. Sometimes we only have time for a few pages; other times we read multiple chapters.

I love this time for a number of reasons. Of course I think it is “good” for the kids. And it helps calm them down so they can actually fall asleep instead of hurling stuffed animals at each other. And I love books and stories. But it also hearkens back to my own childhood when I remember sitting with my dad reading books. I still clearly remember many of the plots, the sound of my dad’s voice, the way he would slam the book shut when we were finished, the way his wedding ring reflected the lamp, and the ridges on his massive (to my young eye) fingernails.

I don’t remember conflicts and problems, though I’m sure we had them. We do now, too. Sometimes the kids can’t agree on a title. Sometimes Maggie interrupts the story so many times that I want to exile her from the room. Pretty much every night Griffin elbows Sarah in the face or fidgets so much that we want to strap him down. But these sorts of challenges are part of everything we do, and they don’t diminish the magic of storytime.

With the completion of The Secret Garden a few weeks ago, we’re finally at the stage where we can read complete novels. Maggie’s still not 100% ready, but Griffin is eager to tackle bigger stories. Prior to this, we were mostly reading shorter children’s books or episodic graphic novels (Bone, Amulet, and, our all-time favorite, Lumberjanes). It’s exciting to consider all the books we can read together now!

Griffin, Maggie

Trolls

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Angell Bridge, beneath which dwells Mrs. Troll
Angell Bridge, beneath which dwells Mrs. Troll

The counselors at Camp du Nord tell stories about an old troll, simply named Mrs. Troll, who lives beneath Angell Bridge. Our campsite lay on the far side of the bridge, so we crossed it many times a day, and we often tried to spot Mrs. Troll. Although we sometimes heard her, we never spotted her. Nevertheless, Mrs. Troll became a major feature of our conversations and quickly became a featured character in our bedtime stories.

I tried not to depart too much from camp canon, beginning with these basic facts:

  • She lives beneath Angell Bridge.
  • She is shy and doesn’t like to be spotted, but is not otherwise unfriendly.
  • She has a shopping bag with a hole in the bottom.
  • She’s not too bright (i.e., never understanding why her shopping bag is always empty when she gets home).
  • She has straggly hair and a stoop.

From this we began spinning tales, and learned many new things about Mrs. Troll, and other characters. For example, she has a secret friend, a clever flying squirrel who keeps an eye on her and helps her overcome her problems. She likes to drink sour milk, but has ever so much trouble getting it home in her shopping bag. She sleeps on a bed of sharp stones, and becomes awfully uncomfortable if any of them get too worn; she hates soft spots, and rolls around causing earthquakes throughout the camp. There are other, less friendly trolls, who live elsewhere in the wilderness around the lake. They are strong and mean, but even Mrs. Troll can outsmart them to protect the camp.

In Norse mythology, the Midgard Serpent is so long that it envelops the world and grasps its own tail in its mouth. If it ever lets go, the world will come apart.
In Norse mythology, the Midgard Serpent is so long that it envelops the world and grasps its own tail in its mouth. If it ever lets go, the world will come apart.

At Maggie’s request, we discovered that there is a Mr. Troll, too — he is a prodigious fishertroll, usually sticking to regular fish, but capable of pulling whales, sea serpents, and dragons from the depths of the lake. In our most epic troll story to date, he was challenged to a fishing competition which nearly ended the world as he began yanking the Midgard Serpent out of the lake. Luckily his opponent backed down, so he unhooked his catch, forestalling the apocalypse.

We’ve been back for a week now, and the kids are just as excited as ever to hear new troll stories. Indeed, I have never seen Maggie so enthralled by storytelling. Her eyes grow wide with each new chapter, and she jumps in eagerly to provide key details or to correct me when I get something wrong. She also suggests story topics, especially when I’m tired and feeling less creative. Tonight, for example, I paused at the beginning of the story, trying to cobble something together in my head. Maggie jumped in, saying, “Daddy… maybe Mrs. Troll has trouble sleeping!”

“Ah yes, of course she does,” I replied, and so the tale of Mrs. Troll’s unusual mattress requirements was born.