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We weren’t thrilled with this year’s class pictures, so we did our own.

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Humoring Dad

Smile

Emma was sitting in a chair with her
Golden Book of Children’s Hymns the other day…

…and she was “singing”

Emma Sings “A Hundred World of Songs”

Whups. Found this post just hanging out in limbo. It’s from a couple of weeks ago:

Emma says to me today: “Poop starts with the letter P!”

Niiiiiiiiice.

We’ve been using the reward [1] system to get her to to eat her vegetables.

You know; “Emma, eat your vegetables, and you can have some [insert desert here].”

It often works, but the payoff isn’t apparently great enough for her to finish her spinach or asparagus.

This evening, she finished her peas, and then horked down all of her fudge, and half of Margaret’s. So I told her that since she ate all her fudge, she could have some broccoli!

Amazingly, she went for it, and actually ate the broccoli.

Strange.

1. Yeah, I know. Another word for it is “extortion” or “bribery.” Though I prefer “direct compensation.”

This is a story Emma told yesterday (with some slight editorial license to tighten up the plot a little bit):

Deep in the jungle, there lived a frog and a panda. They were a happy family.

But one day, a scary ghost came. It was Duck, pretending to be a ghost!

Frog and Panda ran and ran. When they got to a river, Frog hopped across the lily pads and Panda swam.

They ran through the forest, until they met a pile of mean and nasty bears.

They kept running down the road until they met Wormy Churmy, and they all hid in a leaf bush.

Duck, still dressed as the ghost came and scared the bears, and they ran and hid in a bigger leaf bush.

Frog and Panda put on some sheets, and scared Duck!

Everyone went home and got in bed and pulled their covers over their heads and went to sleep.

So it’s 10:15, she’s been in bed for an hour and a half. I go in to check on her, and…

(shuffling pages)

“Emma, you’re supposed to be asleep!”

“I’m reading about Curious George making pancakes, she informs me. “And taking a nap!”

I gently correct her. “Emma, you’re not asleep, your eyes have to be closed to be asleep. To bed!”

I go to leave, and she asks “Dad? Can I keep one eye open?”

Emma at the Zilker Kite Festival today

Some HDR and B&W goodness. Or badness, depending on your point of view.

Nothing fancy here. Just a little boost to the saturation and some judicious cropping.

She likes to take books to bed to “read.” Well, tonight she fell asleep while “reading” her book, “Hand, Hand, Fingers, ZZZzzzzzzzzzz”

In the car today, she asks, “Why are we real?”

I suggested that Descartes would say that we’re real because we think.

“What would day-cart say?”

“I think, because I am,” I replied.

“Why do we, why do we, why do we, why do we fink?” she asked.

“Because we have a brain. Inside our head,” I said.

“Why do we have a brain inside our head?”

Hrm. I liked her existential question better.

A bit later she informs me she doesn’t have a brain in her head, because she’s dressed as Eeyore.

Emma & Santa
(Click for larger version)

In celebration of November, National Novel Month, my favorite public radio show, On the Media, is having a contest wherein listeners submit a 12 word novel. Here’s Emma’s submission:

A novel in twelve words, by Emma, four years old.
Adapted by her daddy from her 31 word opus, “In the Shadow of the Moonlight”

In the moonlight, a tiny, tiny, little bird hatched.

It was me!

Whispered:

In the shadow of the moonlight, a little egg dropped onto the ground, and it cracked open and a little, tiny tiny bird came out, a little tiny bird…and it was me!

It’s ye olde international talk like a pirate day.

Arrrrrgggghhhh!

(Pirate getup courtesy Erica Sadun’s Pirate app for the iPhone.)

Emma and I read Eric Carle’s “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” last night at bedtime:

Listen Now!

(Note that the file is 2.5MB, and lasts for just over 5 minutes.)

We’re having lots of good fun that is funny.
Or maybe just reading a bedtime story.
Click on thumbnail for larger version.

“I’m going to go get some air out of my room. So I can fly!”

“I put the wind up in the sky. So I can fly!”

“The wind is going to blow you up in the sky so you can fly and your compuner* so you can e-mail!”

* Yes, she says “compuner” instead of “computer.” In spite of us working with her to say it correcnly (sic). Or maybe she’s combined “computer” and “commune.”

And from the “Who says TV is bad” Department:

Emma: Turtles don’t have any teeth!
John: They don’t?! Where did you learn that?
Emma: On TeeVee.

Click on photo for larger view

Not great, but as good as I could get, fighting, as I was, my own ignorance regarding my camera and the flash, and Emma’s limited attention span.

Heck, I don’t even know if I got the accouterments on correctly!

So Emma and I are eating a home-made banana split, listening to a mix playlist (Robert Johnson, and artists who’ve covered his songs.) Cream comes on, playing “Crossroads.”

I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by.

Emma, possibly juiced on ice cream, starts dancing. Until the song ends, and then Robert Johnson, playing the original “Crossroad Blues” comes on. She’s dissappointed, because she wanted to dance, and she can’t dance to an old delta blues tune. So I cue up “Mantenca” by Ella Fitzgerald, a song she’s gone crazy to in the past. She loves it, especially when I step away from the ice cream for a turn on the dance floor with her.

After that, I cue up the Brian Setzer Orchestra’s “Dirty Boogie” LP (except it’s on MP3), and she goes to town. Until it’s time to run to her preschool to take a look at the photos in the following (or is it preceding) post.

A couple of pictures from her preschool
(click on the thumbnail for a larger view):

While in Chicago, they put statues of bulls (cows, Margaret’s informed me) painted by artists on the street corners, in Austin, “the live music capital of the world,” they put guitars, similarly festooned, on the streets. Here’s Emma, rather too tired to put up with daddy’s request for a photograph, or mommy’s request to play the guitar. (Click on thumbnail to see a larger view.)

Emma: Can I smash the baked bean?

John: If you must needs smash your baked bean, smash it on your plate.

Emma (after smashing and eating the bean): Can I smash another baked bean?

John: Yes, you may smash another baked bean…on your plate.

• Something I’d never have thought I’d have to say: “Emma, don’t hang from your drawer.”
• Also, I never considered I’d have to explain the difference between boy potties and girl potties.
• Finally, I never imagined I’d have a perfectly charming conversation about big toots and little toots while my daughter was sitting on a potty in a men’s room at pre-school.

So it’d been a restless night, we didn’t have anything pressing going on this morning, so I was laying in bed, waiting for Emma to wake up. The Cat was meowing - hungry, I suppose, or had forgotten how to get from the living room to the bedroom. (I have to cut him some slack. He’ll be 17 years old this month.) I was ignoring him, or trying to.

Would I couldn’t ignore, however, was the sound of dry cat foot being placed in his bowls. This I had to get up to check out.

So I went to the kitchen and surreptitiously peeked around the corner. She’d carried the big bag of dry cat food to his bowls, and was putting a few handfuls in each bowl. Then she carried it back to where she’d gotten it.

Finally ready, she called The Cat into the kitchen. “Here TC! Here’s some food for you boy!”

How sweet is that?

You put on the oven mitt and pull out a…

Mellisa and Doug insect puzzle piece.

You just gotta laugh.

“Emma, are you tired?”

“No, I’m not tired.”

“Emma, do you want your duck?”

“No. I don’t want my duck.”

And yet…

She came in this evening while I was trying to study to give me goodnight hugs and kisses.

I had the radio tuned to our local public radio station - at this hour of the day, it’s usually a jazz show.

“Is that Charwie Parker?” she asked.

She knows from jazz! Sweet!

Now if I could just get her to know from John Prine.

So we’re watching “Reading Rainbow,” starring Commander Jordi LaForge, who is talking  about Jazz.

One of the books they talked about was “Charlie Parker Played Bo-Bop,” which Emma has.

So after the show is over, I ask Emma if it would be OK if we play some Charlie Parker and read her book.

And so we do. Charlie Parker with Strings: The Master Takes. She sits on my lap, and we read “Charlie Parker plays Be-Bop” while Charlie Parker plays be-bop. We read that book five times.

It doesn’t get much better.

After much trauma, we got Emma into bed for story time. Margaret is reading the magazine from a gift subscription Grandma Nancy bought for Emma.

Story reading was interrupted by lots of “What’s ‘at?” or “What is that?”

After a little bit to eat, it was bath time.

Emma loves bath time.

Generally.

Margaret and Emma got back around seven. Emma was pretending to be T.C. (our cat), eating cat food.

As the picture shows, she was pretty amused at the concept.

Thanks to the young ladies supervising the playroom who took this picture for us!

Since they have a supervised playroom at our local YMCA, where Margaret works out, she takes Emma with her. That allows me to get a little homework done in the evening.

This is the only photo I didn’t take, nor was it taken with my camera.

She started waking up when I went in to take the 5:00 picture. This is a time lapse, and she moved around a bit during the 30 second exposure. I kinda like it.

She came out in the living room. I did suggest to her that she sit on the new laminate floor I laid down in the foyer, but the pose is all her own. Sleepy girl, still trying to wake up.

Still napping. She’ll sleep for a good hour and a half to two hours if we can get her to lay down and take a nap. She’s probably been asleep about 45 minutes at this point.

The previous picture was taken around 3:30.

OK. I confess. I had her pose for this one. But she’d just hurt her pinky, and was showing me, and inadvertently did the University of Texas sign. Or an obscene Italian gesture. It’s all relative.

But I digress. I gave her kisses on her pinky and asked her what she was doing with her hand. “Hook ‘em horuns,” she said. So then I had to get a picture of her flashing the UT sign.

She looks thrilled, doesn’t she?

Lunchtime! Emma is being silly.

This is Emma getting some physical therapy with Miss Kerri.

This is the first time she’d stood up on the swing. She was choosing the color of ball, which Kerri would place on the swing. Emma would pick up the ball, Kerri would spin her to face the frog, and Emma would throw the ball into the frog’s mouth.

The goal was to challenge Emma’s balance (part of the initial diagnosis was “gravitational insecurity.”) Emma did quite well with this excersize, and even challenged herself by holding on to two ropes and wiggling back and forth to make the swing move. Kerri was surprised and please to see Emma do that.

We take her to Children’s Therapeutics, and we’re quite pleased with Emma’s progress, and the level of professionalism and the care she gets.

She had apparently just discovered that the wheels on her Noah’s Ark spin. It’s always the simplest things, eh?

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.

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.”

Uh… Cocamosa?

(Click on photo for larger veiw)

Dad: Emma! You’re doing a good job of putting that together!

Emma: Yeah, I am doing a great job of putting it together.

Uhmm…. Uh-oh.

“Where’s Aunty Linda?”

“Dallas.”

“Where’s Dallas?”

“Texas.”

“Where’s Texas?”

“It’s in the United States.”

“Where’s the United States?”

“It’s in North America.”

“Where’s North America?”

“It’s on the planet Earth.”

“Where’s the planet Earth?”

“It’s in the solar system.”

“Where’s the solar system?”

“In the Milky Way.”

“Where’s the Milky Way?”

“In the universe.”

“Where’s the universe?”
“There universe is everything. It holds everything.”

Believe it or not, she stopped this line of questioning. I didn’t want to have to get all cosmological on her.

Like I know what that means.

I Go Swimming
Peter Gabriel

Ooh, I go swimming, swimming in the water
Swimming in the river, swimming in the sea
I go swimming
I go swimming, swimming in the water
Swimming in the pool, swimming is cool
I go swimming

The sun is burning, I am yearning
For the waterflow (waterflow)
Next to my skin I, like to begin a
Waterflow (waterflow)
Letting off steam I float in a dream,
I can’t let go (can’t let go)
Follow my wishes, follow the fishes
Down below (down below)
I go swimming

I need water, water to drink
Water on my brain, water sustain,
Water over me
I want water, water I need
Water to think, water to drink
Water over me

The sun is burning, I am yearning
For the waterflow (waterflow)
Next to my skin I, like to begin a
Waterflow (waterflow)
Letting off steam I float in a dream,
I can’t let go (can’t let go)
Follow my wishes, follow the fishes
Down below (down below)
I go swimming

I go swimming, I go swimming
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
I go swimming, I go swimming
I go swimming, I go swimming
Swimming, I go swimming
Oh I go swimming, I go swimming
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me
Swimming in water, swimming in water, swimming in water
Water all over me

I’ve decided it’s official. We are now in the “question” phase.

“Is this the horse from Gramma Nancy and Grampa Bob?”

Well, yes it is, and she knew that before she asked the question! I’m not sure what’s going on when she asks questions like that. Confirming that what she thought is indeed the truth? I’ll have to find out.

I got my first string of questions today.

“Where’s Aunty Linda?” “She’s in Dallas.”

“Where’s Dallas?” “It’s north of us.”

“Where’s north?” Uhh…. “It’s that way” didn’t work very well.

“Were’s Dallas?” “In Texas.”

“Where’s Texas?” “In North America?”

“Where’s North America?” “It’s on the planet ‘Earth’.”

At that point, did she get distracted by something else?

If you look carefully, you can almost see her cast.

Emma: “I’m afraid of the monsters, dad.”
John: “What are you going to do if you see a monster?”
Emma: “I’m going to scare them away. I’m going to scare them to mommy and daddy’s room.”

Emma: I found some monsters in my bag!

Emma: I’m going to turn into a balloon!

I was jumping rope, but it’s a snake!
Look at what a snake did - he ate some plums!

You scared me dad! And my pull up!

I scared her pull up?

Yeeeeah. I got nothin’.

Who knew? Here she is with her blue cast. She picked the color herself, pretty definitively, which was cute and sweet and a little surprising. She’s becoming her own person.

On the other hand, with her natural reticence, low muscle tone and gravitational insecurity, the cast is making it difficult for her to walk. She did pretty well at PT today, though.

So Emma took a little tumble off a curb while we were at an event downtown Saturday.

Turns out she broke her tibia, near her ankle. She’s been fussy, as one would expect (especially considering the cold and borderline ear infection.)

But she’s also been quite sweet and accepting of the situation.

I’m finding out that dealing with stuff like this is just taking one moment at a time. It sounds really bad to family or friends, but when we’re enmeshed in the situation, it seems quite organic and natural.

Kinda weird. But nice to know, too. One day at a time.

I found it particularly interesting the other day - we took a nap together (”in mommy and daddy’s bed”). At one point, she told me a story about her day; she fell down, hurt her foot, the doctor listened to her chest, and made her foot feel better.

That was pretty cool!

(Emma’s watching “Sesame Street.”)

Someone’s knocking on Elmo’s door.

Emma suggests “Maybe it’s the kibble crook!”

(Kibble crook - from an episode of “Clifford the Big Red Dog.”

Dad: “Emma, would you like some more pineapple?”

Emma: “No thanks!”

Got a great comment to my post on why I’m always late.

Like the commenter, we, too, worry about loosing animals, especially “Guck” (Duck.)

Oh, the horror. The horror.

She tends to be bad about dropping items and either not realizing it, or not saying anything.

“Guck” has been dropped on the hike and bike trail. Luckily I realized it quickly, and didn’t have to backtrack too far. (And luckily, no one’s dog or kid claimed it.)

And yesterday she dropped her new “Cwifford” (the big red “gog”) in the parking lot on the way to the car. Didn’t say a word. Glad I looked back.

We’ve been looking for a replacement “guck.” I fear we may never find one, and may loose it someday.

She starts her new pre-school next week - the one for which we’ve been on the waiting list for nearly two years. We think she’s going to do very well, and we think that the school’s philosophy, experiential learning, through play, is going to work very well for Emma.

The other exciting thing that’s been fun to watch develop is her imagination; she’s been seeing doggies in a piece of bread, seals (or frogs) in a slice of orange, and today, by turn, she saw a screwdriver, hammer, or toucan in some Magz magnetic building toys she was playing with at Terra Toys here in Austin.

Though Mommy might not believe it, sometimes a piece of macaroni and cheese is more than just a piece of macaroni and cheese.

Margaret: “Does Emma want some cookie?”

Emma: “Emma need some cookie.”

• To a toddler, gratification delayed is gratification denied.

• Distraction is a very useful tool, though it doesn’t always work.
• A sharp retort at our toddler when she’s in the midst of a tantrum doesn’t do much good. Patience and a soothing voice work much better.
• Before Emma joined us, I couldn’t imagine life with another small human being in the house. After Emma, I can’t imagine life without her.
• Patience is a virtue…but it’s much much easier when one doesn’t put many expectations on the day, when there’s only one child, and when she’s generally pretty mellow, anyway.
• DVR and Sesame Street; It’s a good thing.
• Few things in life are better than cuddling one’s daughter.

She came up to me, holding a nail file up to the Snowman Weeble Wobble, and informed me that “‘nowman very taaall. ‘nowman very taaall.”

She was using the nail file as a ruler.

So I got her a ruler of her very own to measure the Snowman. While I was getting the ruler, she grabbed a stubby little screwdriver from the edge of the desk.

“You [I'm] going to screw Pooh,” she told me. “You going to screw Pooh.”

Not being able to help myself, I asked “What did Pooh ever do to you?”

What she wanted to do was use the screwdriver to take the batteries out of Sleepy Time Pooh, like she’s seen daddy do.

She just told me: “You try and screw Pooh.”

My daughter, the upper manager! I’m so proud!

Turns out Pooh is very taaaallll. He’s probably nineteen-teen, which is about what her temperature is when we check it. (Unless, of course, it’s 104…)

Last night, we discussed mommy’s and daddy’s names. “Where is Margaret?” she asked.

This post is for Gra’ma ‘ancy:

Elasant - Elephant
Sudzy - Fuzzy, i.e. whipped cream from the can.
I - Daddy. (As in “I help you.” i.e. “Daddy help Emma.”)
You - Emma. (As in “I help you.” i.e. “Daddy help Emma”)
Compuner - Computer
Wuffabo - Buffalo
Goggie - Doggie
Guck - Duck
Cheh-er - Cheddar, the name of one of her gucks.
Ti-ee tat - Kitty Cat
‘at - That. As in “You ‘an’ ‘at.” i.e. “I want that.”
Pa-ee - Potty
Carwick - we have no idea, but she requests this story a lot.
Taoch (rhymes with “couch”) - Couch.
‘axe-a-sone - Saxaphone
‘eep - Sheep