We purchased, on advice of Emma’s physical/occupational therapist, a small trampoline. It helps her with her balance, encourages her to challenge her self, helps build strength, and gives her a little energy boost. They call it “arousal level.” Spinning really helps her arousal level. And that’s important, because she’s more active, has a brighter countenance, and communicates more easily when she’s more energetic.
I think she was pretending to be a doggy, so the socks on her hands were “paws.”
She has this thing she does where she lines items up. It’s just a thing she does – not OCD; I can move items, and she doesn’t freak out. It’s odd, and somewhat endearing, all at the same time.
Frequently heard around our house: “Watch Cwifford! Wet’s watch Cwifford! Can I watch Cwifford?” Alls I can say is “thank goodness for the DVR.” We’ve got numerous Clifford and Curious George shows sitting there, waiting to be played upon demand.
So here she is watching Clifford, the Big Red Dog. I think Mr. Bleakman is saying “You know, when I was a boy, we didn’t have lint. We had to play with dinosaur poop. And we liked it!”
Around 8:00, she woke up, got out of bed, stumbled into the living room, and decided she wanted to play with her barn.
It takes her a while to wake up and get moving. Just like dad.
So today, I’m trying to get her out of the house to PT/OT.
She goes to the potty. Great. But I have to coral her to get her to wash her hands. Which she does. But at some point, she grabs the towel, is running around, runs back into the bathroom, and shuts the door to the toilet/bath area. A few minutes later, she hollers at me that she needs help hanging up the towel. Whilst helping her, I notice the towel is wet. “Emma, did you get the towel in the potty?” “Yes,” she admits, brightly.
So we’re back to washing her hands. While she does that, I go finish collecting spare clothes, snacks, etc. She comes back out, and her hands are dry. Anyone who has a toddler in the family knows it is impossible for a three year old to wash and dry their hands completely.
Back to the bathroom. “Get your hands wet!” She places her finger tips in the water. At this point, I hurry things along by physically directing her actions.
Once we’re done with that, we have to get her shoes and socks back on. Which is annoying, because she’d already put her socks on earlier, all by herself, and has, subsequently, taken her socks off, all by herself.
It wasn’t as bad as other times, which have included last minute trips to the potty, complete with oversprays that soaked pants and underpants. Meltdowns while I’ve tried to comb her hair. Meltdowns while trying to get her dressed. Meltdowns while insisting that she doesn’t want to go to school. Strenuous requests to watch just one more episode of “Clifford.” And so on.
I was looking for an update to the Twilight 1.0 theme, used hereon, so I checked out the author’s homepage, and ran across a post about massive snow silliness. Notre Dame? I’m guessing her city is South Bend?
My wife grew up in Mishawaka and we live in Austin, because we don’t want to subject our beautiful daughter to more than one snow event a year.
Silly us – we drove up to South Bend for Easter, and as we were on the Crawfordsville (my folks) to Mishawaka (her folks) leg, I asked our three year old daughter, Emma , what we were going to do at Grandma Theresa’s house.
Remembering Christmas a year and a half ago, she suggested we’d play in the snow.
“Oh,” I sagely opined, “I don’t think we’ll have snow at Easter.”
Mother nature sure showed me.
So we’re at the physical/occupational therapist’s office, and Kerri, Emma’s OT, was helping Emma put on shoes after the therapy was finished.
Emma was more interested in a book about how to dial 911. There was a phone number pad, a boy with a broken arm, a girl, and a dog.
“Emma,” I asked, “why can’t the doggie dial the phone?”
“Because he doesn’t have ‘pposable thumbs,” she answered.
Made me so proud!
Kerri thinks I like to teach Emma tricks. Except I didn’t explain to Emma why doggies can’t dial phones…I explained to her why our kitty, TC, can’t draw. She made the conceptual leap all by herself!
I’m taking your blood pressure. I’m a doctor. So I don’t cry. I don’t cry at the doctor’s. I just smile at the doctor. I am doctor Emma.
Although it sounds more like “I’m taking your bread pressure.”
Emma: “This is my baby brother.”
Dad: “What is your baby brother’s name?”
Emma: “His name is Cocamosa.”
DaddyFu proper coming soon to this website…as soon as I get it imported!
Yes, it’s true! DaddyFu is, slowly but surely, moving to a new hosting platform.
DaddyFu is moved. That is all.
So, yes, if you’re linked to specific blog posts, those links will get busted, and your link to the RSS feed will get busted, but daddyfu.jelyon.com will point to the new blog, so that link, at least, won’t get busted.
As for why I’d up and do this… clickenzie here