Star Wars ABC

Turtle and Monkey received Star Wars ABC, a large board book featuring fantastic photos from Anakin to Zam, from Uncle C. in the mail last week. It's the new favorite, of course. The girls were familiar with R2D2, C3PO, and Yoda because Santa brought those action figures to stockings last Christmas, plus they knew Luke and Leia because I have the piano sheet music to Star Wars and there's a movie photo on the cover. But now it's a whole new world. We have no intention of showing the girls any of the movies for many more years, but I have to think they will have complete mastery of the characters by the time the movies are presented. Here's a sampling of recent conversations.

Turtle, yesterday: "I want to be Anakin for Halloween." Not sure how long this will last since (a) she thinks Anakin is a girl, and (b) prior to yesterday she said repeatedly that she was going to be the tooth fairy for Halloween.

Monkey, at Michael's today: "Let's buy a Storm Trooper." Don't ask me how she popped out with that one in the middle of a craft aisle.

This evening, getting ready for bed:

Turtle, pointing at the photo of Princess Leia: "Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!"

Monkey, to me: "I'm Princess Leia, and you're Queen Amidala." Twin Daddy accidentally let the cat out of the bag that Queen Amidala is Leia's mommy, and we were hoping they would forget, but they seem quite taken with the fact that the picture that "looks like a clown" is Leia's mom.

Monkey, to me: "Who is Princess Leia's daddy?"

Me: "I don't know. . . . it's a mystery. "

We will NOT spill the beans on that one, and please, please, no one else answer that question. We aren't sure the order in which we'll be showing the movies, but in case we start with IV, we have to keep that a mystery.

Now, I'm sure there are some readers who have no interest in Star Wars and are now bewildered/appalled/think this post is totally lame. But just know that this set of movies is VERY IMPORTANT around here and and any dissing of said movies in front of our children will not be looked upon kindly. Twin Daddy sat with his roommate (who is much more fanatical, and who dressed as Hans Solo for the occasion) in front of a theater for about a day back in 1997 in order to be the first people in the door at the first Austin showing of the Star Wars re-release. I brought them a hot drink in a thermos (and tried not to make fun of Han) so I could also be favored with a perfect seat for the first show in Austin. I'm just saying. It's important.

Two Stories

First, a Monkey story. Last night, getting ready for bed, Monkey climbed on the outside rung of her crib, grabbed the top rail, and kind of arched her back. I told her not to do that and she asked, "Will it break, Momma?" I said, "No the crib won't break, but you might break something. Remember when Lucy (a doll in her favorite Little Bear book) fell out of the tree and broke her arm? That can happen to you, too, but I can't use tape to fix it like Little Bear. I'd have to take you to the hospital for a doctor to fix it."

She looked at me with big eyes and I saw my poor girl visibly shrink before me. She and Turtle started talking about all the ways they could break their arms, and I tried to backtrack. "Oh, you know, maybe you wouldn't break anything, maybe you'd just get an ouchie on your head and you'd cry and need ice, but even then you know, Mommy will always be here to take care of you." Blah Blah Blah. It was too late. I crushed Monkey's skiing/gymnastics/horseback riding career before she ever had a chance to dream about it. The last words she said as I tucked her in were "on ladders, in cribs, in trees, in LOTS of places."

Now, a Turtle story. Tonight we were pretty late getting the girls to bed because I took them out to a little potluck dinner going-away party for their Heartsong Music teacher, who is moving to go to graduate school. Once home, we rushed to hustle the girls into bed and I was trying to help Turtle brush her teeth. She wouldn't open her mouth, she sucked on the toothbrush, and was generally uncooperative, so I gave that up and moved on to trying to wash her hands. She wrestled with me over it and then she kind of screamed and flailed her hands under the faucet, splashing water all over the sink and mirror. I took a step back, put my hands on my hips without saying anything, and gave her a raised-eyebrows "I'm not happy about this" look in the mirror. She met my gaze in the mirror. Then she said, "This is not going well."

After Twin Daddy and I stopped laughing, we got them to bed without much trouble.

Prayer

Turtle spontaneously said a prayer today while she was "vacuuming" with her toy vacuum. She stopped the vacuum, put her hands over the handle, and said exactly this:

Dear God,

Thank you for Lovey, and for privacy, and for Mommy, and for Daddy, and for Sissy. And. Bye!

A-men.

Then she went right back to vacuuming.

So the next time she asks for privacy in the bathroom, I suppose I should be a little more respectful!

Clothes and Questions

A lot of money and effort could have been saved if I had known how few clothes Turtle would be willing to wear this summer. She wears only one pair of PJs every single day, taking them off every morning the instant she wakes up, so they stay clean and ready to wear that night. And all those new shorts and t-shirts? Forget it. Despite changing clothes about 6 times a day, she has a very particular set of clothes she is willing to wear, and she will specifically ask for her purple dress or pull her heart t-shirt out of the dirty clothes hamper (even when I try to hide it at the bottom). I am generally mortified when we leave the house, not because I don't like what she is wearing (a raggedy purple striped dress with old stained pink shorts, primary-color-striped legwarmers, blue socks and purple crocs actually looks cute on a toddler), but only because I know she has much NICER and more appropriate clothes that she flat out refuses to wear. If she would just horridly mismatch her nice clothes, I'd feel much better.

I know the 6 times a day changing routine is just a phase brought on by the thrill she feels that she actually CAN take off all her clothes, pull new clothes off the hanger, and put on a complete outfit, including socks and shoes, all by herself. It is pretty thrilling for me too. I only force her to change clothes when the one-size-too-small t-shirt and oversized bloomers she has selected are just too inappropriate to leave the house. Other than that I try to go with the flow.

I haven't talked much about Monkey lately - she is thriving in a different way. For one, she is taking naps again, and that has improved her mood and behavior a thousand fold. After nearly two weeks of non-napping, I taped black garbage bags over the nursery windows in desperation, hoping to create such a cave-like atmosphere that she would be forced to sleep. I don't know if it was that or her general exhaustion, but she did sleep that first afternoon after the trash bags thoroughly blocked her light, and she and Turtle have had long naps and late mornings in the nursery every since. She is a different (happier) child now, and has become much easier to live with.

Monkey has also started asking questions about words now, and that is new this week. When I read a book she will ask, "What is 'reluctant'?" "What is 'insisted'?" "What is 'thought'?" It is eye opening (and compassion-inducing) to realize how many words I've been reading and saying that she may not understand. So, when I think she is being obstinate -- wanting to stay (pre-garbage bag) in rest time for only two more minutes, as opposed to 15 more minutes -- she may just not understand. "What IS fifteen, Mommy?"

P.S. How do you explain, "thought"? Also, what do you say if your kid asks you if God is going to come visit?

Musical Genius

The other day we were listening to a Laurie Berkner (children) CD in the car. We've had the CD a couple of weeks, and there are a few songs the girls ask to hear again and again. We were listening to one such song when Turtle said, from the back seat, "They're playing a tambourine, Mommy!"

Slightly shocked, I listened closely to the music and did indeed hear a tambourine in the background. I have to say, I still haven't recovered from my surprise. The girls sing, make up new songs, and play with instruments at home constantly, but for Turtle to be able to identify one instrument among many on a CD actually kind of scares me a little.

Despite my lingering fear of my child's sponge-like mega-brain, thank you Heartsong Music and the Music Together program. In that freaky moment I felt fully justified in the many, many, many hundreds of dollars spent on weekly music classes over the past 15 months, and all the other activities passed over to keep room in our calendar and in our budget for Heartsong. Knowing that my kids will ultimately have greater musical prowess than me (whether they choose to exercise it or not) is a source of real pleasure and gratitude.

Funny

Yesterday Twin Daddy opened up the television cabinet, and this is the conversation that ensued.

Twin Daddy: We're going to watch a little (World Cup) soccer now.

Turtle: I want to watch Dora!

T.D. (kind of mumbling to himself): Maybe Dora will be playing soccer.

Twin Momma: (laughs quietly)

T.V. comes on.

Turtle: Will Dora be playing, Daddy?

T.D.: Oh, no, honey (apologetically). Dora's not really going to play soccer.

Turtle: You were teasing me, Daddy?

T.D.: Yes! I was teasing you! (very surprised she knows how to use teasing in context).

Turtle: You stinker!

TM and TD burst out laughing, and Turtle is quite pleased with herself.

Tidbits

Goodbye Pony:

There is a convenience store in a strip mall where I occasionally go for coffee that had a full size horse statue out front. I first started running in and out for coffee when the girls were just months old; I could leave them in the car parked right in front of the store without ever having them out of my sight, and I would direct them to talk to the pony while I ran in for a minute. Well, "The Pony" became a "thing" and they would regularly ask to go see the pony. One or the other would say, "Mommy, let's go see the pony and you get." (which meant I would "get" out of the car.) I would often say, "we can go see the pony but I'm not going to get" and then we'd just drive by and wave to the pony. Last week Monkey said, "Let's go see the pony mommy," and I said, "Sure!" I drove to the store and GASP! There was no horse statue!! This was a big bronze horse statue, full size. And it was gone. I was shocked and I really thought I might cry. I went into the convenience store demanding to know where my babies' pony had gone. Turns out the owner of the strip mall sold it. SOLD it. I really don't know who could possibly buy such a thing, or how one would even sell it. Craigslist? Anyway, the cashier lamented the lost horse as well, saying that his daughter had been enjoying the pony since she was two (she's now 12). After I whined a little more, wishing I could have known so I could have at least taken a picture, I left. I dreaded telling the girls that the pony really was gone, fearing a screaming melt down from Monkey.

"Well girls, the pony is gone. The woman who owns it sold it," I said after I got in the car. They both looked a little surprised. Then Turtle said, "Can we go see my old school now mommy?" (referring to the daycare they attended part-time for a few months during my half-hearted attempt to return to work after they turned one). It's close to the store, so we drove by it, and that made them both happy and they haven't mentioned the pony again. Which goes to show that they are a lot more flexible than I give them credit for.

Trapped in Chick-Fil-A

There's a Chick-Fil-A in town that has a pretty good climbing structure inside that I've been wanting to check out for the girls. We went there yesterday for lunch and Monkey climbed up higher and higher. While it is incredibly tall (as tall as the store), it is virtually impossible to fall more than 18 inches, and then onto a soft landing, so I wasn't too worried. Until Monkey started saying, "I need help mommy." I tried to direct her to the tunnel that led to the slide, but she couldn't quite figure it out. And I couldn't reach her or fit inside to get her. She climbed up another step and then I couldn't see her at all, but I could hear her. "I need help mommy. Help mommy, I need help." It was like hearing a kitten mewing in a tree but you can't quite figure out where it is. She was calm; I don't think she was afraid. She just needed help. But after a few minutes I starting getting anxious because I was worried she was going to get afraid and start screaming. Also, I could not see her at all, so that was pretty disconcerting. I wanted to say "Come to Mommy's voice, Carol Ann," but I refrained. Instead, I gave a 10-year-old $2 to climb up and save her, and then we had lunch.

Sandbox

We have a little sand table that Monkey loves to play in. Yesterday, though, she told me it was too small and she was going to get a new one. "Oh really?" I asked. "How?" "From Christmas," she answered. I was so shocked I sent her in to tell Twin Daddy exactly what she just told me. She told him she was going to get a sandbox in her stocking. So, I guess it is all over now. Last year all she asked from Santa was a lollipop and a candy cane. We cherished the sweetness of the simple request, and I'm glad we did.