4/10/2013

Two pronouns and everything

Filed under: — Aprille @ 7:04 pm

Tobin (19 months) and Denny were watching squirrels out the window.

T:  I see him right there!

This was his first five-word sentence.

Monthly Miles Memo #63

Filed under: — Aprille @ 6:32 pm

Hello, my Miles,

After months (seriously, months) of reading the same four bedtime stories, we’ve finally moved on to four different ones.  Now, every night, you want to hear in this order:  Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Tarzan, and 101 Dalmatians.  These are from a couple of Disney story collections Mubby and Skittergramps gave you.  It’s nice to have a change of pace, because I swear if I had to read The Little Mermaid one more time, I might go crazy King Triton-style.  You’re not a Disney freak in general (although you pretty much only want to go on a Disney cruise for vacation for the rest of your life).  You don’t demand to watch the movies over and over; in fact, of the four new stories, Tarzan is the only one whose corresponding movie you’ve seen.  You don’t have much for merchandise, so I don’t think we’re in too much danger of losing you to the Cult of Disney.  I’m happy to read the stories to you.  They’re a little different from an adult perspective, anyway.  I’m not sure, but I think the whole rescue chain in 101 Dalmatians is an allusion to the Underground Railroad.

We’ve been having lots of fun with our choir, gearing up for our big concert next month.  You are getting a lot braver, though you’re still shy about standing anywhere except right next to me.  We’ll see how it goes when we practice standing in our official positions.  You truly love the music for its own sake.  You always want to hear the songs from our practice CD, and you sing them around the house so much that Tobin knows most of the words, too.  You don’t always get the words right.  This morning I heard you singing about shooting with crystals (as opposed to pistols), but I’m okay with that.  I’m glad you’re more familiar with the former than the latter.

Photo by Denny

It seems like you’ve been extra sweet to your brother lately.  He still gets on your nerves sometimes, but overall you’re very kind to him.  You’re still great about sharing food, and today, when I asked you to play with a toy in another room because it was torturing Tobin not to be able to play with it, you chose instead to hand it to him.  You got a smiley check for that, dude.

Photo by Denny

It’s time to do some clothes shopping for you, too.  A lot of your pants are getting high-watery, and your shirts show your tummy if you reach your arms up.  Last Saturday morning, I grabbed some clothes for you from your drawers so you could run an errand with me, and when you came out wearing them, you had about three inches of ankle and wrist exposed.  I don’t know how you keep growing with how little you eat, but you seem to be getting it done.

We’re closing in on the end of your time in preschool.  After your graduation in May, you’ll move on to some summer programs especially for kids who will be entering kindergarten in the fall.  We’ve decided to move you to our neighborhood public school, not because we don’t love Willowwind, but just because it’s hard to turn down a free, high-quality option.  Willowwind has been a great place for you and a truly good environment as you worked out the kinks of being away from home for the first time.  Kindergarten will mark a change, too.  It will be the first time you’ll be away for a full day, since you’ve always been a half-time preschooler.  I’m not too worried about how you’ll handle the academic and social aspects of it.  Your teachers had nothing but positive things to say about you in those areas at your conference.  I’m a little concerned about whether you’ll eat your packed lunch and whether you’ll handle a public bathroom all right.

But…you’re not the least-prepared kid to show up at  kindergarten, I suppose.  It may take a little adjustment, but you’ll sort it out.  We have kindergarten round-up next week, and it will help when we can show you the three kindergarten classrooms.  We don’t know yet to which you’ll be assigned, but we’ve heard great things about all the teachers.  A handful of school, neighborhood, and choir friends will go to the same school, so even if you don’t share a classroom with them, you’ll at least see friendly faces around.

Does it sound like I’m saying this more for me than for you?  I might be.  It’s my mommy prerogative.

Something that’s been weighing on me heavily lately is a horrifically sad situation facing some acquaintances.  A boy you knew early in your preschool days, one whom I specifically remember being really friendly and welcoming to you when you were new and homesick and scared, is probably in the last months of his battle with cancer.  In no way do I mean to co-opt that family’s pain. It makes me feel sick and tear up every time I think about it, but I’m sure I feel about 1% of their grief.  All I can do is hug you and your brother tightly and try to maintain perspective.  How much would that little boy’s mom love to have his transition to kindergarten be her biggest concern?  Our problems are very small.  I haven’t talked to you about the situation specifically.  Maybe that’s cowardly of me, but I want to protect you from the idea that a child could die.  You’re sometimes a fearful kid, and I don’t want to compound those issues.

You do understand the idea that kids can suffer, I think.  For the last couple of years, I’ve participated in the Layettes for Life program.  I found out about it through a former coworker who has done humanitarian work in Haiti.  It involves making packets of baby supplies (cloth diapers, onesies, socks, hats, sleepers, outfits, blankets) that are sent to Haiti.  They’re used as an incentive to get mothers to bring their babies to health care professionals :  come get your kid vaccinated and get some clean, new, cute clothes out of the deal.  Today the supplies I ordered arrived, and you watched as I assembled the layettes.  We talked a little bit about how there are some babies in the world who are so poor they don’t even have a onesie.  I’m sure it’s hard for you to comprehend, considering the overflowing boxes of baby clothes that fill our house, but I want you to be involved in a small but concrete aid project.  You can understand that the clothes you helped fold will go to a baby who needs them, more than if I just told you that I sent money.

Another sad piece of news:  the Roosevelt playground, which my family and I helped build and was a huge part of my childhood, has been dismantled.  The building is being turned into condominiums.  You loved playing there, and I haven’t told you about that yet either.  I’ll need to do that before we go to Mubby and Skittergramps’s house next, because you do better when you have some time to process things.  Much like the whole kindergarten situation, I think it’s probably harder on me than on you.  You’ll be bummed, but there are many other playgrounds.

I’m bummed, but I have two healthy children.  We’ll get over it.

Spring is here.  We’ve had a couple of tantalizingly warm days, followed by those rude cold days that wouldn’t even seem cold if it hadn’t been warm just recently.  More beautiful days are to come.  We have a wonderful spring and summer ahead of us, full of trips downtown to play in the fountain, to scramble around on the library playground, to walk on the path behind our house to get ice cream or a Flavor Ice.  I’d prefer it if you didn’t grow up, but it’s a whole lot better than the alternative.

You called a candy cane a hurricane today.  I had to hide my laughter because you really like to get things right.

Photo by Gary Clarke

I love you forever and ever and ever, my tender-hearted little sugarbug.

Love,

Mommy

 

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