Good Literature at Any Age

This morning when I was parking the van in front of some one's house, a dog in their front yard began barking at us. Without hesitation and with perfect pronunciation, John (2-3/4) recited:

"Hark, hark, the dogs do bark.
The beggars are coming to town.
Some in jags and some in rags,
And some in velvet gown."

Then he added, by way of explanation to me, "There was a dog barking."

I know I'm making certain parenting mistakes right and left, but it made me happy to know that John has very few popular references, but he knows obscure nursery rhymes.

"Wow, I Love Leeches!"

Somewhere in the last few days John picked up the prase, "Wow! I love such-and-so!" with a dramatic emphasis on "love." He saw me eating chips yesterday and said, "Wow! I love chips!" I made a bagel for breakfast this morning: "Wow! I love bagels!" And so on and so forth.

Just now John was looking for me. "Mama? Where you are you?" (Yes, that's how he asks that question, with a double "you," which is really cute.)

Katherine: "I'm in the pantry."

John: "What you looking for?"

Katherine: "I'm looking for bleach."

John: "Leeches? Wow! I love leeches!"

Coat or Jacket?

Yesterday John kept throwing mysterious fits about wanting "my coat!" It's 90 degrees here and I didn't know what he was talking about. Then I realized that a couple of days earlier he had discovered dust jackets on books ("honey, those are dust jackets") which he would remove and wrap around his body. I forbid such playing because it wrinkled and tore my dust jackets. So John was spying a dust jacket on a book high on a shelf and throwing a tantrum for his "coat."

What Else Does This Kid Know?

Today I took the children to an adult friend's birthday party; the guests were mostly families with young children, many of whom we see routinely, so John was looking forward to seeing other kids. I made the novice mistake of telling him at about 9:00 a.m. that we would be going to a party later that day (at noon). Following was about two straight hours of weeping that we were not leaving for the party right then. I even took us in the back yard to play and the entire time John sat still on the deck, head in hands, crying, begging me to go to the party. I'll remember not to make that mistake again for a while!

Anyway, John fell asleep on the 40-minute drive to the party, which was hosted at a home where we have visited only twice before. We arrived in the neighborhood, but John was still sleeping and I was ten minutes early, so I decided to drive around to pass the time. John awoke and his first words to me were, "No, I want to go to the party!" I replied, "We are on our way to the party." John retorted, "No, you are just driving around the neighborhood seeing houses."

It took me some seconds to close my jaw so I could ask him to repeat himself and he did, just as clearly as the first time. This child is only two-and-a-half?

Later while at the party, one of the birthday girl's brothers commented to me how quiet John is. He said, "He doesn't talk much does he? He wouldn't talk to me, and he wouldn't even talk to B--- and J--- [other children] when they were talking to him." I explained that John is cautious and takes a while to warm up (and does this surprise anyone who knew me as a child?). In truth, he is a nonstop chatterbox who says things that amaze me!

Two other surprising moments happened on the drive home from the party.

We were driving from the party to the highway entrance when John said, "Hey, there is Trader Joe's!" We shop at our nearby Trader Joe's most Wednesday mornings on our way home from occupational therapy. I glanced at the shopping center and didn't see it, but I had a niggling feeling. When I arrived home, I checked online and learned that there are exactly two Trader Joe's locations in all of Charlotte and we had driven right past the other one today! How he recognized a different Trader Joe's location, I have no idea.

Then we were driving along I-85 when I missed the exit for I-77. We had been driving in silence and I did not say a word or make indication when I realized I had missed my exit. I was silently glancing ahead at the next sign so I could get off and turn around when John said, "We're lost." Aghast, I asked, "What did you say?"

John (said like he was talking to a dim person): "We're lost, Mom."

This child only learned of the concept of being lost once, which was a few weeks ago when I got lost and had to call Chris from my cell phone because my GPS system isn't working. So, not only has John been exposed to the idea of "being lost" once, but how on earth did he know we had missed our exit between two seemingly identical freeways? Anyway, I laughed and told him that he was right, we were lost, but that I knew what to do.

This is when parenthood begins to feel a bit eerie. What else does this kid know? All I can say is: don't talk about any state secrets within his earshot because I think he is listening more closely than I thought!

Musings on Word Choice

This morning I realized it had become a little too quiet and went to find John. He had secreted himself in the grandparents' office (we're visiting in Atlanta--great photos to be posted later) and was touching the computer. Before I could remind him that he's not supposed to touch the computer, he said, "Mama, I'm working."

My own words coming back to bite me.

When I'm using my computer and wishing John would play by himself, I say, "John, I need to work on the computer. I need you to play by yourself so I can work." Doesn't that sound important? Sometimes I am working--filing receipts in Mvelopes, researching something for the house--and sometimes I'm "just" writing email or doing blog posts (but, as an aside, aren't those activities similar to the respected work wives used to do as the writers of family correspondence, creating and maintaining the family ties and a social network from which the whole family benefited?).

John telling me that he was working was at first cute, but it occurs to me--not for the first time--that it might not be so beneficial to call everything the child does "playing." He is learning everything about his world and is trying to imitate what the parents do. If he grabs a broom and swishes it around, that's not playing with a broom, that is a two-year-old's attempt to sweep, to work. "Play" implies uselessness, activity purely for pleasure. By constantly labeling my son's activities "play," I think I'm giving him the general impression that play is all a child is capable of doing, that he couldn't possibly be capable of work, which requires the competency of adulthood. Talk about something coming back to bite me! That's a concept I do not want to instill.

So, when John told me he was working on the computer, I paused for a second, had my epiphany, and replied, "That's great. What project are you working on? Well, it's time for us to eat breakfast, so you can work more later. Let's go downstairs."

Returning the Glasses

Yesterday I bought some new, adult-sized, plastic drinking glasses. Unfortunately, they turned out not to be dishwasher safe and at least one melted. They were sitting on the counter when John saw them and began touching them.

Katherine: "Honey, please don't touch those. I'm going to return them."

John: "I touch them!"

Katherine: "No, I'm going to return them, so please leave them alone."

John: "I return them!"

Katherine (playing the game): "Oh, you're going to return them? Great, that will save me an errand!"

John reaches out slowly and deliberately and rotates one of the glasses.

Katherine (exasperated): "John! Why are you touching them? I just told you not to touch them!"

John (sincerely with wide eyes): "Mama, I turning them."

Poor Mama felt so bad! I explained what "returning" meant and that it wasn't "turning."

Twentyfirst Century Toddler

Scene: Mama and John are looking at baby photos and videos on the computer. A video is taking a few seconds to buffer.

John: "Don't worry, Mom. The picture is uploading."