Family Davis-Ross

the perils of pretend play

There's a crazy level of "mess" that's becoming the standard around these parts. At least once a day, every movable toy is brought together to construct something - a car, a house, a boat - and the game isn't complete until each toy has its place and the apparatus is perfectly formed.

That's it. That's the point of the play. There's so much "scenario" which goes into playing (assigning roles and duties and figuring out just who's playing, which of the dolls will be people or babies or dogs, what birthday party they're attending, and then there's always the fussy baby who just needs a "map" or some milky), but once their creation is assembled, they're done.

It's fun to see how they creatively use their space. Strollers become something called "connecty-necks" which serve multiple, complex, ever evolving purposes. Chairs are tipped over, bins serve as walls or toilets, and the space is filled with books, toys, and food from the kitchen.

I'm tempted to get the kids giant blocks with which they could build their cars and houses, saving Kevin and me the trouble of putting back every. last. toy. But is that the lesson I want them to learn - that when given a problem (lack of building materials) the solution that can be purchased (giant blocks) is better than their invented solution (using their toy bins, chairs, and other on-hand materials)?

Plus, who am I kidding, we'd have to put away a set of giant blocks, too.

When I say this happens every day, I mean it. I mostly don't mind, but it does get old, this dumping of everything into a pile. I can see the temptation to take the kids upstairs and put the television on for them, because at least then they wouldn't be making such a mess. And I hear the words of my own mother that I resent the most coming out of my mouth in my  moments of frustration: exaggerating the level of mess, wishing they just play with their toys the "right way," complaining that I "just cleaned this mess up, what is this, an invitation to make another mess?" and sighing as I point out, "we could be doing XYZ now, but we can't, because I have to clean up."

Remember this: I don't need to clean up. There is no "right" way to play with toys, unless someone's going to lose an eye, in which case I may reconsider. My cleaning up is exactly an invitation to make another mess. They have not, ever, to my knowledge, taken everysingletoy and put it in the pile, despite my claims otherwise. (They've come close, but, to be fair, they've never toppled the play kitchen into the mix. They may have tried, however.)

This goes with messes of other sorts, too. Today we painted faces, our own and dolls. Why not? Really, why not? I asked myself this question as I saw exactly what Lucy had in mind when she sat with her babydoll at the face painting station.

And if I had put a halt to the face painting, I never would have heard Peter's current offerings: lion, tiger, hippopotamus, bacon.

I chose bacon for my little girl. It even came with "burny parts."

though I am prone to exaggeration, it really is a terrible museum

The kids talked me into going to the Delaware Children's Museum this week. In recounting our day with Kevin, he noted that I should be more careful with my words - that it's not really a "horrible, terrible" museum.

So, some true things about the Delaware Children's Museum:

(this is in the under-5 area...the oil is helpfully out of reach, no?)

- It's not at all geared for small children. Peter's too small, physically, to maneuver most of the exhibits properly. One really needs to be able to read to interact with most of the museum as well.

- It emphasizes "knowing" learning rather than "doing" learning. For example, the exhibit which teaches you about banking, rather than, say, a pretend bank where you can do banking!

- Any exhibit which could allow for pretend play (for example, the lemonade stand) is so woefully under supplied as to make it seem an afterthought.

from this one vantage, I can spot no fewer than six screens

- It relies on screens to teach children. Some are interactive; some are simply movies.

- There's a small cafe with a limited selection of expensive food, and outside food is prohibited, with the exception of special dietary needs of children. Can my cheapness and desire to feed my children healthy food be a "special dietary need?"

- And while it seems petty, there were small lights on the floor, and I was reprimanded three times by one of the workers any time Thomas came close to touching the lights, since the lights were hot. Why put hot lights on the floor of a children's museum? To illuminate the steak knives in the cafe? The broken shards of glass at the bottom of the slide?

What draws the kids back are just a few exhibits, including:

- the climbing wall;

- the art room;

- the water play area;

- the dancing screen;

- and the model of human digestion, including some graphic real-life chewing, swallowing, and burping sounds. Also, this model poops a ping-pong ball. Which it then eats again. Hilarious!

(If anyone made it to this point, wow, glutton for punishment!)

 

backyard concoctions

Our washing machine went down two weeks ago. It stopped mid-cycle.* After checking the first few home repair suggestions on e-How to no success, we promptly began ignoring the problem sitting in our kitchen.

Then, almost magically, the problem seemed to solve itself. A friend knew of a machine for grabs. We had no problem taking our old machine out and putting the new machine in. It was done over a few hours on a sunny Sunday afternoon. And the new machine is exactly the same as our old.

My job was to keep the kids entertained and out of the way, which was better said than done when considering the prime real estate this washing machine removal and installation occupied.

We went to play on the back patio, and it wasn't long before the kids started asking for water for mixing sand and leaf soups. Remembering how much fun they had mixing on the kitchen floor earlier, I brought out all of the old and unused spices from my spice rack, some corn starch, and some flour. The kids mixed, concocted, tasted, painted, and made a huge mess.

It was so much fun that they requested a repeat the following day. I love how irrational the kids remain, even Peter. We had this conversation about seventeen times:

"Can we use the cinnamon?"
"You used all of the cinnamon yesterday."
"But I want to use cinnamon!"
"But there is no cinnamon to be used!"

I managed to find an unused container of oregano that I'd taken from my mother's huge spice hoard, which pacified them for a while. Then, I went upstairs to put Thomas down for his nap and heard several suspicious entrances and exits, followed by little Lucy giggles. It turns out, Peter had dashed into the kitchen for a pot full of vinegar and a bunch of peanuts. I'm lucky I came downstairs before they started breaking into the flour again.

Oh! We didn't just make a mess. We first went to the patio to look for salamanders, and found several. We also opened a drawer and found (literally) two dozen cave crickets. I put the drawer in front of Thomas and he caught several in his little baby hands. Kevin was appropriately outraged.

Boo! at the Zoo

We took the kids to the zoo's Halloween even last weekend, if only as an excuse for them to wear their costumes. Really, I'm in love with children in costumes. So sweet!

It took a Herculean effort, but we made it to the zoo before it opened. Our successful visit was entirely due to the early start, the happy moods of the children, and the parents who - like us on any other weekend - just can't seem to get out of the house before 10 a.m.

We spent a good portion of our visit looking at animals, many of whom were happy to be observed. Thomas is entering the fun age where he not only notices the animals but is very curious about them. Unfortunately for Thomas, he was outvoted 2-1 when we polled the kids about going into the petting zoo. No goat love for you, little one. (The carousel, our next destination, met with his approval.)

At various points throughout the zoo children could collect treats. We didn't by any means get all of the offered goodies (and may have directed our route to avoid some handouts), but we were surprised that many of the options were (reasonably) healthy.** And then there were Snickers. (I ate those.)

I realized shortly after we arrived that this will be the last year I can pick out Peter's Halloween costume. Yes, I picked out his Halloween costume. Does that sound too controlling? It probably is. I did it to avoid what I know will come next year, which is that Peter will dress up as Spiderman*

In writing this post, I realized that there aren't really any pictures of Lucy, mostly because she spent her time in the stroller. At one point, I pushed Lucy and wore Peter and Kevin complained something along the lines of "this doesn't ever happen when it's just you and Mommy." We do love to see the kids down and running around and excited, even if they do tend to run away and their excitement may be of the hanging on bars variety. At the same time, one of the luxuries of being with Kevin is that we can do just this manner of silly stuff.

We left in tears, a full-fledged meltdown by the sneaky members exit which happens to be a revolving door. Do you know how perilous a revolving door is for a family of preschoolers? At any given point, someone was going to be abandoned to the zoo, someone was going to aimlessly wander the Tiger lot, and someone was going to be sliced mandolin-style by the gate, or more realistically, get caught between the door and the gate.

*Why Spiderman? It's the one superhero he knows. How does he know Spiderman? It's all my fault. (Or capitlaism. I like to blame capitalism, really.) We needed a playground ball; the only one at the store had Spiderman. It took only a month of playing with it before Peter realized "that man has a SPIDER on him!" Wouldn't you call a man with a spider suit your spider man? Peter did. Others did too. He noticed. He has no clue what a "spider man" would do, other than the fact that he looks pretty awesome in his red and blue get-up, and that lots of older boy seem interested in that Spiderman character.

our backyard

It's only with a touch of exaggeration when I say that the college's athletic fields are our back yard.

Truth: I can see them from our back window. It takes only a literal minute to walk there. With our windows open, I can hear every announcement made during games and, more than once, have found myself standing for the Star Spangled Banner as it plays over the loudspeaker before games.

But it's across a narrow street, so by no means can it truthfully be considered part of our backyard. (We'll keep that special designation for Crum Woods. I suppose it will do.)

We keep finding ourselves imagining the kids growing up with this field at their disposal. It finds us in the dual trap of (a) denying our upcoming move and (b) imagining our future home to be similarly situated.

Kevin's taken to playing a fun parlor game called "would you rather live here or there?" in which he names two cities (say, Albuquerque or Detroit) and I get to choose where I'd rather live. While it's a fun game, I find myself needing more information to play, such as: will we live a minute from the stadium? Will we have a tree swing and lush green lawns and a woods with a creek as our "yard?" Will we have a communal yard where no fewer than five children can be found playing on a sunny afternoon?

Despite the mice and the mold and the cold, we have a pretty nice life here.

indie rock dance party!

Our preschool co-op had a music day yesterday, complete with a cache of some of the loudest instruments you've ever heard, plus a dad and his friend to lead the songs.

Even though the musicians could barely be heard over the din of tin drums and toy accordions and shakers of all makes and sizes, I did catch some great song choices, including selections from the Flaming Lips and Neutral Milk Hotel.

It was lost on the littles, who were more focused on freeze dancing and, later, eating cookies, but it reminded me just how nice live music is.

claydough party

One of our playgroup moms invited us over for an afternoon of tie-dying. When the weather promised rain, rain, and more rain, she reconsidered the wisdom of inviting eleven preschoolers and a toddler to splash around with indelible dye inside.

Instead? A claydough party! We arrived to a table set up with pre-measured ingredients, four different doughs to create, and lots of excited children.

Peter and Lucy were assigned, along with Sophia, to the messiest of the doughs, an edible peanut butter claydough. With ingredients including peanut butter, honey, sugar,and powdered milk, it was sticky, messy, sweet and delicious. Finally, a claydough that won't send Lucy's sodium levels through the roof! (Although her pancreas may have complained...)

Actually, it may have been too messy for the kids. I think they were surprised by just how sticky plunging your hands into honey can be. I know, are you amazed? We rarely reach the point of too much mess, but I'm thinking the texture of the honey was too much.

Lucy and preschool

There were a few weeks where I feared I was doing a disservice to Lucy by trying to teach her at home. We had some issues, two of which being her strong will and my strong will.

I stepped off, found ways to include her at the learning table without making her feel smaller than Peter, and gave her the space to be three years old.

And? I think it's working. Or, at least, it's working as well as anything else we've tried.

My fear for Lucy is that she exhibits some signs of learned helplessness. She'll sometimes push away projects without trying with a frustrated "I can't do that," or will look at our plans and say, "that's for bigger kids." She suffers in some ways from being compared to Peter, because his skill set is different from hers, controlling for age. Different from, not more advanced than.

It's frustrating to see because in so many ways she demonstrates a cleverness* beyond her age. When she gives up on a task without trying, I fear that she doesn't realize just how much she can accomplish. I fear that she'll inherit my "must be perfect or won't even try it" perfectionism that has sabotaged many a project. And, importantly, I fear that by teaching her at home I'm not saving her from the flaws of the educational system that I'm hoping to avoid. Our goal is to foster a true sense of intrinsic motivation and self-driven learning; our daughter pushing away her work** without trying suggests that something needs to change.

At one point I voiced my concern to Kevin, that perhaps it wouldn't work with her, and that she'd be better served in a school environment. Kevin pointed out that maybe what I'd like more is the freedom to blame someone else when Lucy's education falls off track*** And he was right, of course.

So we made some changes, right around the time Lucy went through a maturity growth spurt, and the two combined have eased our preschool days tremendously.

*By "clever" I'm really speaking of her social and interpersonal relations skills; she seems to be especially keyed into the relationships. She also makes interesting causal links, draws metaphors from familiar pieces of literature, and is attentive to detail.

**And please understand that "work" for a three-year-old is heavy on the gluestick and crayons. Under a different guise, it would be "play."

***Which sounds so much more serious than I mean it to be, except I don't know how else to phrase it.

file under: things my mother never, ever would let me do

additional category: and if I did try them, she surely would have sold me to the gypsies

Some notes:

(1) ingredients = cornstarch, baking soda, cinnamon, water, and vinegar
(2) yes, they're eating the cornstarch off the floor
(3) this is why the sudden demise of our washing machine has been so difficult: we accumulate laundry at such a rapid pace that without a load a day, we're suddenly swimming in baskets and baskets of dirty stuff
(4) luckily for them, the floor was in need of a mopping, so the mess wasn't that out of place
(5) unfortuantely for them, the floor was in need of a mopping, so goodness knows what they ingested

imitation, good and bad

Almost all of Lucy's pretend play involves taking care of her dolls. She does such a compassionate job of it, too: attentive and patient and always ready to soothe, rock, and nurse her babies and little ones.

It's hard to to feel a little flattered when you see this: your daughter imitating your daily job, doing so with the grace that she sees you model. I'm really an awesome mother, I found myself thinking.

And then, while quietly playing by herself at the dollhouse at the Please Touch Museum, I overheard this:

"No! Don't bonk him on the head! How many times do I have to tell you, heads are not for bonking!"

It was said with the appropriate stern face and pointed finger, too.

 

 

the boy behind the camera

Thomas has a real fondness for the camera, but the problem with capturing him is that...he has the camera! Problem solved when I brought out our other camera, and while the sight of two cameras temporarily stunned Thomas, he recovered nicely.

Also, found this video on our camera from last week, which is destined to become a classic. Baby cinematography at it's finest! Speaking of videos, I've recently posted a bunch in the Great Flickr Update 2011. (FYI, family members, there are something like 60 new pages of photos to see.)

lovely, lovely Longwood

Our memberships are expiring - it's what happens every fall, since that's when we moved here - and we've been having extended discussions about what memberships to renew and at what level.

At one point I vacillated on our Longwood Gardens membership. It's not terribly expensive, and Longwood isn't far away, but with so many other nature parks nearby did we really need this one?

Yes. Yes we do.

Even if I'll never be able to shake the sense of guilt I feel when I sneak apple slices for the kids,* every visit we take has moments of magic, learning, and fun.

This week we visited with friends and found new fish to feed (and even more new fish to feed); hopped in an empty fountain that turned on just a minute after we hopped out; climbed inviting topiaries and trees,** and even hopped in the pond.

For the record, Peter fell in, much to his surprise, disappointment and embarrassment. Despite his strongest efforts, however, Thomas did not make it in the water. He tried. Oh, he tried.

With the exception of the child who wants to jump in every body of water, our trips are becoming much easier, too. Not-so-little legs don't tire as quickly and actually help to push the single red stroller around, and not-so-little minds finally understand what I mean when I say that we just can't see it all. Because, no matter how hard we try, we can't see it all.

*Very strict no-food-and-drink policy. Except, as Peter helpfully pointed out, in the cafe!

**Also pretty sure this is prohibited, but based on the well-worn paths, we're not the first.

farm play

The kids hadn't come with me for a few weeks to pick up our vegetables, partly because it is just another entry on our busy Tuesday and I need to pick up the vegetable and run, and partly because one or two of them have been asleep by the time our afternoon pick-up rolls around.

This week, however, we'd taken a day off of our schedule and everyone was awake. It was a lucky visit, too, because not only did we score three new outdoor toys (including a lawnmower for Thomas and the world's largest dump truck), we enjoyed the company of a friendly grasshopper.

I'd just been thinking a few weeks ago about how we'd not come across grasshoppers in our insect investigations. The kid spend hours weekly looking around for funky bugs and other wildlife, and while they've found their fill of rolly-pollys, daddy long legs, grubs, and centipedes,* they'd yet to come across a grasshopper.

Thomas was the only one not afraid to touch it. He's really into catching insects when he can, and the moment he spotted the grasshopper he tracked it and set about capturing it.

I love the video above, except for my insane voice. If you listen, toward the end, Lucy's asking me to go pick more berries and Peter wants me to tell the farmer about the grasshopper. (He's all about telling people in charge about fun things we find.)

*And are always thrilled when they find them. Even a rolly-polly. "LOOK! A rolly-polly!" (Said with the enthusiasm I'd offer for, say, an unattended plate of fancy croissants next to my pillow in the morning.)

daily life

I've lately found myself taking pictures of the three kids at play. I'm drawn to this image over and over again because it's everything childhood should be: playing alone but together; setting scenes and tagging along; thinking and planning and rethinking the rules of the game; finding a place for everyone to play, or, when that doesn't work, finding a way to make peace with themselves and one another and then moving on.

I haven't been intervening in the play of the children as much as I used to. Mostly, they don't need me to. They've worked on their conflict resolution skills, they're intelligible to one another, and my being part of the scene turns it into "performance" rather than "play." Also, truthfully, I'm a little wary of being roped into play and am thankful for the moments of request-free time that it offers me: in two minutes, you know, all three will come at me with different, urgent demands, almost certainly involving bathrooms and blood and possibly scissors, too.

pick a winner!

Look who's discovered his nose. We've been seeing this look a lot lately. Love it!

Please Touch highlights

I received an annoying message last week about a change in our reciprocal membership to the children's museums in the area, and my response was to visit the Please Touch Museum. The very next day.

It's sad to think that Thomas might miss out on the magic this museum has provided for Peter and Lucy over our past two years. We have gone through periods where we visit weekly, and periods where we visit every month and then spend hours upon hours upon hours exploring our way around our favorite corners. No matter how we visit, it's been a delightful, safe place for the little ones to explore.

Our visit last week thankfully fell on a surprisingly empty but rainy day. Peter and Lucy explored with confidence while I hung back with Thomas and showed him some of the museum's exhibits that are perfect for the just-learned-to-walk set. It brought no small amount of nostalgia, too, looking at Thomas poking around the carwash just as Lucy had two years ago.

But Thomas has something that Lucy never had, which is Lucy's own creativity to imitate. The kids were drawn to the water exhibit when we first arrived.* While Peter went to work making a dam, Lucy gathered all of the ducks she could grab, headed over to the hand driers, and set to work drying them. Moments later, she had company.

At one point, Peter and Lucy had run ahead to the rocket launch room while Thomas and I followed at a slower pace, stomping on the musical clouds just ten feet away. One of the Please Touch helpers came out to ask if I had the two children who had run ahead, and I confirmed that I did. She seemed relieved, but amused, telling me that Lucy had said "my mommy needs to play, too."

There are some exhibits in the museum we visit over and over and over, and they still open up hours of creative play. For example, we almost always spend good time in the "Front Step" area, even though it's designed for kids three and under. There are dolls and gardens and things to push around, and it's just the right spot for Peter and Lucy to start another scenario in which they're the mom and dad and that's their baby Saddhie.

(It was here that Thomas found the vacuum cleaner and fell in love, then screamed with the pain of a broken heart when I dared separate him from it.)

We also almost always spend at least an hour in the project room, painting and playing with clay and reading books. Now Thomas can join at the art table, and believe me when I say that I had no choice in this matter. He climbed up in his chair and grabbed a paint brush before I realized what had happened.

And our visit last week marked an important milestone, which is that by visiting the shoe store Peter and Lucy have now been to every exhibit at the museum. I'm not sure how they'd missed it for so long, but once they discovered it** they wasted no time taking off their shoes, measuring their feet, and then trying on whatever caught their fancy. It was almost as if they'd been to a real shoe store before.

*It's always a surprise for me when they want to play there, especially since Peter's just now tall enough to really interact with it. It's on my list of "who designs these museums, anyway, and why didn't they bother to consult a mother?" Also on the list: WHY ARE THERE NO SMALL TOILETS? AND WHY AREN'T THERE SMALL SINKS IN EVERY BATHROOM. For real.

**While taking a walk "around the block" with their stroller and cart, taking toys from one exhibit in a way that I never allow, except that someone was melting down over the vacuum cleaner attachment and I had to pick my battles carefully as my current situation didn't allow for the detailed explanation of why it's not OK to take the toys from "Front Step" all around the town, because while they would have followed my directions, there would have been so. many. questions. about why even bother with these directions given the fact that there were perhaps ten children in the museum at that time, three of which were mine.

more "adventure," less "farm"

There's a crazy corn maze/fall fun farm somewhat near us that's been on my radar since we've moved here mostly because the Strasburg Railroad will drive you there. Also, it has a corn bit. It's probably for these two reasons alone that I keep pulling it up in my mental files whenever fall rolls around and we start thinking of fall fun.

When a social coupon site offered a deal, we bought it, knowing that the price was finally in a reasonable (for us) range, and we thought again of the corn bin and giant tube slide and pedal cars.

The farm's website offered short clips of the different attractions, which the kids adored watching, partly because they were excited about the next day's visit and partly because they jump on any chance to use the mostly forbidden computer. In hindsight, I'm glad they had a chance to see what was offered because it helped orient them toward a few of the exhibits (while, conveniently, ignoring others. Example: the sand art station)

The day, though, was crazy. It was hotter than we'd expected* and the farm was crowded and there was seventy times too many things to do than would be reasonable. At one point, when the kids were happily playing in the corn bin (and inhaling alarming amounts of corn dust), I confided to Kevin that I have almost no desire to push against crowds or engage in any spectacle again, ever. And if I was overwhelmed, what about the children?

It's easy to think that the day was a disaster. And in some ways, it wasn't the best. But we always make the most of what we're given and learn from our mistakes. (Unless we don't. Sometimes, we just don't learn.)

Some highlights: the giant bouncing pillows; riding the bucking bronco; watching the historic train steam past several times; the giant slide; the pedal cars.

*And frankly, this is the third October which has duped us into overdressing for the day. Yes, it starts chilly, but soon enough the kids overalls and long-sleeved shirts have them a red, flushed mess. Once, Lucy and Peter broke out in a heat rash from such a day, and after ruling out all manners of possible causes for the mysterious red bumps (pumpkin field measles? sudden allergic reaction to pumpernickel bagels?), we realized duh! heat rash.

Maelynn turns two!

We celebrated Maelynn's second birthday with a fun (and delicious!) family party at her house last weekend. We were so excited to go that we forgot to check the invitation and instead hopped in the car right after church preschoool...

...only to find the party started two hours after we thought. Oops! Luckily, a stop for lunch and a visit to a local farm helped fill our afternoon.

 

 

So here's to lucky breaks: the close farm, the gorgeous weather, the free hayride, and the kids who were happy to forgo a delicious ice cream treat at the farm store for the promise of treats at Maelynn's party.

Later we arrived at Maelynn's house - a few minutes, not hours, early - and helped Maelynn celebrate her big day. The kids were excited to see her, perhaps especially Thomas, who I believe wanted to hug and kiss her all afternoon.

It took Lucy just a few minutes to find Maelynn's stash of dress-up clothes, complete with fancy jewels. Lucy always made sure to share the toys with Maelynn, bringing her cousin a pair of shoes, a dress, or a fancy necklace. While it seemed sweet, I suspected a sinister reason for Lucy's generosity: she knew that had the tables been turned and had Maelynn been the one bringing out the SuperAmazing dress-up clothes, Lucy would snatch them away and possibly bite Maelynn.*

Soon enough it was time for cupcakes and presents, and then pajamas and teeth-brushing. The kids were exhausted from celebrating and fell asleep on the drive home. I love these car bedtimes!

*She would snatch, possibly, but definitely not bite. However, Lucy's shared recently several instances in which she's been wronged or jealous, and has said, "I wanted to hit her, but I didn't." I'm not sure if I should be impressed by her self-awareness and self-control, or fearful that she's on her way to being the playground tough.

fall walk

After Monday's doctor's appointment and shots and sadness, we took the kids for a post-shot treat and then to a nearby park to feed the fish and hike the trail.

We didn't find the fish, and we lost the trail halfway through, but it was fun. We did find lots of huge worms and a new playground at the end of our journey. The promise of a playground was enough to keep the kids hiking.

I still love watching Thomas walk, and I have a feeling he still feels a sense of accomplishment when he does it.

lucystyle

For our pumpkin craft playdate with Kai and Penelope, Lucy rocked the most awesome style:

size 12-18 month orange hat
orange Halloween shirt
pink and white gingham shorts
pink and rainbow polka-dot tights

Knowing Lucy, there's probably two shirts under her Halloween shirt plus a pair of bloomers under her shorts.

the horse and pony show

We were lucky enough to take a horse class with our friends a few weeks ago. We had a bit of a drive to get to the beautiful farm, but it was well worth it. (I commented to another mother that I don't often get jealous or want-y any longer, but man oh man did I want this farm. Or, rather, want to live there. The upkeep I could do without.)

After a little exploring and games of tag and trying to jump in the pond, it was time for class. The children were able to brush Candy the pony, learn a bit about her care, practice a breathing lesson, and, finally, ride.

The ride was great, although Peter later expressed disappointment that he didn't get to go faster. I believe he imagined he'd be riding at full speed, probably without the help of the instructor. I really wouldn't be surprised if there were cattle to be roped in his fantasy, too.

While the other children rode, we visited the fish in the pond and the tiny, friendly miniature horse. At one point, Peter cooed "hi, little buddy," and Thomas's head snapped around to see what Peter wanted. You see, "little buddy" is one of Peter's nicknames for Thomas, and it's apparently one Thomas will answer to.

Once the children were done riding, we visited the stables were we fed the horses and tossed new straw for their bedding.

Since I don't know the first thing about horses, parts of the visit were a little overwhelming. Our instructor helpfully gave us suggestions and rules, but they often involved keeping ourselves and our little ones in a certain configuration with the horses and the field. Too many variables! I couldn't process it fast enough. I'm sure we made a mistake or two, but since no one was trampled, I'm assuming it was OK.

Later, we had a picnic by the pond, and after eating the older children set themselves to scooping large amounds of algae from the pond and using it to make food? or something. I'm never quite sure what these games turn into. I know there was some poop talk.

If Lucy hadn't just talked us into ballet lessons, I may have signed the kids up for horse lessons. Lucy definitely enjoyed her time atop Candy, and Peter would love the thrill of finally riding fast.

feeling fallish

I started to write "last week," then realized it wasn't even last week that we made this trip but nearly two weeks ago! So I'm a little behind...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch farm. We needed to take a break from our suddenly hectic weekdays, plus Peter was sick and I was trying not to go completely bonkers and lose my mind busy. So we skipped some of our standing obligations and playdates and calendar-clutter to relax at the farm.

The weather agreed with the calendar this day, so our browsing of the pumpkins felt more appropriate. Midway through our visit we needed to shed our fleeces and hats, but there was enough of a chill in the air to say yes, it's October. Yes, it's amazing.

I still worry that Thomas isn't getting the unfettered free exploration and stare in amazement and wonder time that Peter and Lucy enjoyed at his age. The older kids have a tendency to run off while Thomas is still pondering the many facets of, say, the wooden pole in the parking lot which keeps cars from parking on the sidewalk. It's not that Peter and Lucy aren't so patient with their younger brother, it's just that the entire world is full of entertainment if you're only one year old, while Peter and Lucy have a keen understanding of the fun around the corner. (Especially if around that corner lies a display of gigantic pumpkins!)

For this reason I'm thankful for our familiar haunts and well-trod paths. When we visit old favorites, I know where the children will head almost before they do. And, since they are so comfortable where we are, they can wander a bit, push ahead from me, and articulate just where they're headed. (Even if this is done with running feet and a backward shout of "we're going to see the ducks!")

And so Thomas was able to really enjoy the animals at the farm, and the pumpkins, and the Halloween display. Oh, and it helps if you have someone to carry you around. Both Peter and Lucy have taken to carrying Thomas around, never mind the fact that he's fully two-thirds of Lucy's bodyweight and five-ninths of Peter's. Thomas loves it, of course, and it does come in handy, especially when Thomas is headed, yet again, for the bathroom.

Also interesting: all cartoon mice are Chucky Cheese. Even this one. The kids don't even know who Chucky Cheese is, except that they sometimes watch a video of themselves at a birthday party at Chucky Cheese, and the mouse comes over to Peter, to just a bit of not-even-two-year-old terror.

We ended this trip with a quick drive to pick up our vegetables at the other farm. (I left the kids in the car and ran to the barn to pick up the vegetables. Peter protested, and when I asked why, he said, "but I like counting the vegetables with you!") Then, we crashed storytime a few minutes late. Then, we went to the Tiniest Supermarket in the World! for our weekly groceries. See what I mean? Busy, busy, busy.

 

Thomas says:

Mama

shh

thank you

up

down

tall

small

Daddy

this

that

more

tap-tap (done while tapping my chest, letting me know that he wants to nurse)

and a very cute, very expressive, "huh?"

 

strong will

We spent over five hours at the Please Touch Museum yesterday.

Thomas spent some of that time crying.*

(The Mad Hatter, March Hare, dodo bird, and Philly Phanatic statues freaked. him. out.)

(He had a temper tantrum when I made him leave his vacuum cleaner behind.)

He has perhaps the strongest will of any of the children, knowing what he wants and, more importantly, that he wants to do it himself. Today, Thomas refused to let me toss him the tennis ball he wanted. It was down a rocky hill and it had been raining - I didn't want him to fall and bump his head. I tossed it up to him once, and he threw it back down. I tossed it to him again, and he threw it down once more. I had to tend to Peter for a moment, and when I came back to Thomas he'd tossed the ball down again and hand climbed down the hill to get it. I watched as he stumbled, fell, tumbled over, fell again, got tangled in the ivy, and, finally, climb out of the hill and back to the grass.

(I wonder where he gets it, this desire to do everything himself? Probably from his father.)

*Do you think it's cruel I take pictures of him crying?

this place we live is not for the faint of heart

(1) The kids found the tiniest snake ever a few days ago. Every day the kids lift all of the rocks they can find to see what's underneath. Lately they've found grubs, salamanders, and a tiny, tiny snake. I loved the nonchalance with which Peter discovered the snake. He overturned a rock, put it back, and said, "there's a small snake there."

(2) I found what I thought was one of the kids' Halloween spider rings in the closet a few days ago. I almost picked it up to put away when it suddenly occured to me, "you know, crazy lady, that's probably a real spider." And a real spider it was. So imagine a house full of spiders, some of which are large enough to pass for spider rings. That's where we live!

I usually try to exert some effort in identifying the wildlife we find, mostly to know if it's dangerous for the kids to handle. Tonight, though, I'm going to take a guess. The snake definitely was a king cobra, and that spider was a black widow.

growing up: it breaks my heart

The kids used to call earrings "earwigs" because their lives feature more bugs than jewelry. I, of course, loved it and did nothing to dissuade them from this little misspeak. Alas, Lucy is one who picks up everything you put down (she is the epitome of "little pitchers have big ears"), and has started saying "earrings."

(And wearing them, too, or at least when she can delve into Maeylnn's awesome dress-up stash.)

Peter loves spending time with our neighbor, Samuel, and the other big boys of our preschool co-op. (And his other friends, too. He's suddenly social!) It's gotten to the point that he will shrug me off and go play, will become annoyed when I try to interrupt his play, and will accept only the slightest bit of comfort for an injury before running off to be with his friends again. It's completely normal stuff, but it still breaks my heart.

At the rate he's developing, Thomas will be riding a two-wheeler before Christmas. I can't accept how aware he is. He seems to notice so much and, more to the point, knows his place is right next to his brother and sister. Whether it's playing a silly game of pretend play, painting our moldy step stool, or holding his hand out for his bagel ("what? you didn't get me a bagel, too?" "oh, you bet I did, because I knew you'd have a fit if I didn't!), he's marching lockstep with Peter and Lucy.

five hours at Tyler Arboretum

I might be exaggerating on the time, but not by much: we spent oodles of a gorgeous Wednesday with our preschool friends exploring Tyler Arboretum.

I love the magic of visiting familiar places with new friends. We get the chance to see our favorite corners of the world with new eyes and feed off of a different energy. It's probably why we were able to (reasonably) peaceably spend our day there.

Some highlights from the day: screaming (of the very loud and joyous sort), using nature's facilities, eating crab apples from a fruitful tree, finding a snake, making fairies, watching in mystified amazement as bigger kids climbed up one of the treehouses in exactly the way Peter's wanted to for two years*, and possibly leaving in tears, but since I can't remember for sure I'll err on the side of happiness and say not.

*And you know how these little minds work, how conversations start in their brains before they start actually speaking out loud? I had to think hard and fast when, days later, Peter asked me, "why were those boys doing a not safe thing?" It's conversations like these that make me thankful I can keep the kids at home, because how could I possibly know the answer to that question without my SuperMamaBrain?

stuck in place

One problem with being so incredibly behind on this journal of our family is that I lose the little moments of our days - the funny thing that Lucy did, the new advancement Thomas made, the incredible feat of daring that Peter accomplished. (Like: hanging from the top of the swingset, then dead-dropping to the ground.)

Here's one that makes me giggle just remembering it, to say nothing of the video: Lucy, stuck in place, the way kids on training wheels do.

(I feel like this a lot. I should remember to laugh it off the way Lucy does.)

To show how old this video is, it was taken in the time before she was afraid to ride her bike.

science in the park

I recently hosted a bubble themed science playdate in the park with our homeschooling co-op. I'm thankful to have found this group of mamas and children; it's a vibrant, alive group of people who are just so excited to be doing things. For once, I'm not the lone voice sending emails and brainstorming the fun.*

There are so many fun, messy science experiments that little ones can thoroughly enjoy, and it was difficult to narrow the field down to just a few. In the end, I went with a few hits (and a miss):

Mentos and Diet Coke eruptions. Always a hit! I should try to find the video of Kevin and me doing this in 2005 for the Gray children. (Who must be ancient by now...I wonder if Abby's applying for college yet.**) The kids were very excited for this, and each explosion lived up to the hype.

(The kids were also very excited to help load the handy launcher, especially if it meant holding a roll of Mentos in their hands. And popping a few Mentos in their mouths...)

Elephant toothpaste. I'd seen this as a variation on vinegar and baking soda and was curious if it were that much better than the old standby. It was! A thick, colorful foam spewed from the water bottles.

Vinegar and baking soda explosions. This was lost in the excitement of the other experiments, although Peter and Lucy realized almost too late what they'd missed, and I had to drag them away from dumping a gallon of vinegar on a pound of baking soda so that they could eat their lunch. You all should know by now the danger of leaving a hungry Lucy with some vinegar and baking soda.

"Magic floating crayons." If you add baking soda to vinegar and water, it will make things that usually sink rise to the top. The  magic of bubbles!

The one flop may have been adding salt to seltzer. I'm not sure if the kids didn't add enough, if the seltzer lost too much carbonation (as a result of being bopped around all morning long), or if it just weren't as spectacular an experiment as the others I'd planned.

I love experience like this because it's just pure fun, but chock full of learning. Measuring, observing, predicting, following directions, waiting turns, cleaning up...all under a sunny blue sky, with the promise of swings and a playground just a hundred feet away.

Thomas enjoyed the playdate too, in the messiest of ways: trying to drink a bottle of food coloring; smooshing his hands in some elephant toothpaste foam, and splashing in a dank puddle. Can you believe I actually bought NEW clothes for this baby? Why did I even bother?

*Oh, gross exaggeration mixed with some slight insecurity. I'm never the lone voice.

**She's probably in fifth grade. Talk about your exaggeration-filled post!

Lucy, on walks and bikes

Lucy's recently started riding her bike again. She went though a period where she refused - she'd scream in terror, a habit learned from our neighbor when she rides a bike without training wheels. Also, the time her training wheel malfunctioned and she ended up on the ground may have scared her. Whatever the reason, she's moved past it, and away she rides!

We took our bikes to town, Peter and Lucy and me pushing Thomas. We stopped at the library and the Co-op, and it was about five minutes into our trek that I realized Lucy has no idea how to ride a bike. By which I mean: she steers, kind of, and when she approaches any downward slope she takes her feet off her pedals and just shrieks. Oh! And she can't break. I've tried showing her the nuances of the coast break, but to no success. Suddenly, the hand break makes so much more sense.

As much fun as bike riding is (and it is fun!), Lucy still prefers to push her stroller. If it weren't for her stopping every two minutes to tend to her baby, it would be a fast ride to town. What can I say? Lucy's an attentive mother. It's hard not to be flattered when you hear your loving words coming from your daughter's mouth. "Oh! Oh! My little one is sad. Don't worry, little one, Mama's here."

 

easy riders

We loaded our bikes in our car, hoped for clear weather, and met our friends at a nearby park for some bike riding fun. It took Peter a few minutes to warm up to the idea of riding with his friends (and without Lucy, who much preferred hanging out in the sandbox, swinging, or playing with her dolls). Once he did, though? He was off.

Or, more accurately, up. I'm not entirely sure which of the boys figured out that they could ride their bikes onto the awesome wooden play structure, but they all clearly thought it was a great idea. (It kind of was.) Later, they rode their bikes on the all-access playground. I was a little thankful for the cloudy skies and promise of rain, since it meant we were the only ones at the playground.

Later, during the prolonged process of getting three sets of three kids into three cars with their bikes, there was a bit of car mayhem. I looked up at one point and found Quinn's impish face looking back at me, sitting in my driver's seat. Peter and Lucy thought this was hilarious.

some stats

Last week Lucy had her three-year check-up. It went very well, until the shot at the end. She happily answered the doctor's questions about her skills, and while she did demonstrate jumping on one foot, she balked at singing a song.

She's 29.7 pounds and 35.5 inches tall. The Internet tells me that she's 32nd percentile for weight and 9th percentile for height, which seems about right.

Yesterday, Thomas had his one-year check. Aside from some amazement that he's still nursing, never had a bottle, and doesn't drink cow's milk (any milk issues aside, why pay for milk when you can get it for free?), he checked with a clean bill of health. I think. It was craaazy in the doctor's office that morning between a short staff and Thomas's well check and a doctor's appointment for Peter.

Thomas was, I believe, 20 pounds and 4 ounces, and he is two inches taller than he was at his last visit. So, I could look that up... He's in the 12th percentile for weight, although at the end of a fussy day my arms tell a different story.

And poor Peter was at the doctor yesterday too, for some breathing issues. He has asthma, and any cold he catches settles in his lungs in an alarming way.

Yes, alarming. The doctor could have been much harsher with me than she was, but it turns out letting Peter's general attitude and demeanor and level of activity be our guide as to his health needs was a bad policy. (She did comment, though, that if she'd just seen him and not listened to his lungs, she'd have been surprised he was so sick.)

We threw Peter on the scale while we were there, and he's 36.5 pounds.

These kids, I tell you, are so amazing at the doctor's office. They wait patiently, they don't hesitate to let the doctor poke and prod them, and they keep their grubby hands out of the hazmat trashcan.

 

unsurprising

While I worked on another craft project, Peter and Lucy set about on a series of distractions that culminated in their requesting to learn the art of finger knitting.

Luckily (for my patience, for her little soul), Lucy was more interested in her own self-styled art of finger 
knitting. She takes this tactic often; rather than write "real letters" she writes "Lucy's way."

So while Peter sat on my lap and I helped him loop the yarn around his almost too-tiny fingers, Lucy set about knitting her own object d'art. It involved lots of twisting, looping, wrapping, and many, many snips with tiny scissors.

(It was a poopy diaper. Naturally. Later, it ended up studded with nails. For real.)

unlimited corn flour! trains! animals! (and every Davis-Ross child was satisfied)

Saturday we visited the Newlin Grist Mill for its fall fun day. The weather even got into the spirit: we woke to chilly temperatures, a brisk wind, and the need for jackets and closed-toe shoes. (I had neither. It was brisk.)

It's funny to think of a historic mill as being the perfect destination for three small children, but it's true. Our visit offered something for each of the little ones - and for Kevin and me, too.

For Lucy, there was the bin of corn flour coming from the ancient grindstones. The mill was operational for the festival, and we were able to watch the wooden gears twist and turn as the water rolled over them, the heavy stones rotate and turn, and the golden stream of corn flour coming into the bins from above. I didn't want her to eat the flour (there were spider webs in the bin, which on its own doesn't bother me, but made me think that perhaps the entire operation was old and the corn was moldy and toxic).

For Peter, there were old train rails and a creek with rocks to climb and try to jump off of. Oh, and a waterfall to hang over while dropping rocks and sticks and leaves into the frothing overflow. I looked up at one point and saw Peter hanging waist-deep over the edge of the bridge, above the waterfall, and though, "at least he's coordinated."

And for Thomas: friendly farm animals, steps to climb, singers to watch, and a mama's arms to hold him. He couldn't quite get over the notion of getting into the water, so I held him and distracted him and he warmed me up like the jacket I didn't bring.

One of my very most favorite parts of moving to this area has been the history. I'm a sucker for anything made before electricity, and so the buildings, the ancient mill, and the cooking over a fire pit were all welcome attractions.

And Kevin loved the colonial-style candy exhibit. Requests for homemade candy have been made. Up first; caramel for apples! Next: chewy peppermints. If they could make these candies in 1776, they can't be that difficult, right?

eaterpaint, applesauce edition

We made another batch of "eater" paint this week, by Lucy's request. This time we made applesauce, mixed in some food coloring, and made designs on white plates.

The older kids' preferences leaned heavily toward squirting in all of the food coloring possible. Fun! But expensive! So I put a quick halt to that game, which put a bit of a halt on their eaterpaint fun. Thomas, on the other hand, doesn't get so many chances to make an artistic mess, and he explored the applesauce long after the older children ran off to swing or play soccer.

(It may have helped that he was strapped into his chair and couldn't go anywhere.)

grandpas know best

A birthday present arrived for Thomas last week. A giant box waited for him at our doorstep, and two eager children, awake and savvy enough to put birthday + box = present together wasted little time dragging the box inside, finding scissors, and opening their small brother's gift while he happily slept on my shoulder.

We had the present out and assembled by the time Thomas awoke, and after a moment of confusion he was off and playing.

You may think your present was a few days late, Grandpa, but it was right on time, providing the extra hour of entertainment that got us through a sleepy Monday afternoon.

trails, birdseed, and yet another house where Lucy would like to live

We hiked a trail Wednesday! It wasn't a long one, and there were a few unwilling participants, but when a preschool friend invited us to walk the trail in the wooded corner of her yard, how could we say no? Winter will be upon us soon, with all of its snowsuits and boots and hours of dressing and undressing just to spend five minutes outside. October and November are made for spending every possible movement outside, even with some of those moments are rainy and damp.

(Did I mention rainy? The kids found a puddle in which to splash, stomp, and soak themselves.)

After our hike, we made pinecone birdfeeders. Or, in Peter's case, boyfeeders.* What can I say, he likes nuts and seeds and cashew butter!

Here's how I often look by the end of the day, although at this point it probably was only noon: smeared in dirt, covered with food and other craft-related materials. Oh, let's be frank - there's probably drool, snot, and possibly urine in there, too.

*Can I tell you how many of our group activities include a concerned parent drawing my attention to one of the children, saying, "he's eating XXXXX." Probably every single one, except for ones involving paint, in which case the concerned parent offers "she's painting every inch of her body."

some sibling relations

hard at work building a road

There have been some interesting developments on the sibling relations front, especially as Thomas is growing into more of a playmate than prop in Peter and Lucy's daily play.

First: the ever growing capacity for pretend play. I know I post this often, but the duration, intensity, and detail of their pretend games seems to grow weekly. Lucy remains the primary motivator behind this play. It mostly revolves around baby dolls, having babies, having lots of babies, visiting the park or a birthday party, or having food. Peter's happy to go along for the ride, adding his own twists to the narrative, inserting himself where there's space. Thomas lumbers along, almost always Lucy's baby. I suspect it's her excuse to pick him up.

Also, lately I've been seeing all three of them engaged in the same activity. It's amazing! Having three little ones so close together is trying on even our best days, but the payoff is immediate, too: these kids are friends. I especially appreciate how naturally Peter and Lucy look for ways to incorporate Thomas into their play, or to engage Thomas in activities of his own.

And what's really rewarding to watch is how they care for one another. There was panic and concern all over Lucy and Peter's voices when Thomas took a spill down a few steps. (He was fine, by the way, but Lucy and Peter weren't.) Today, at the doctor's office, Peter became teary-eyed when he thought of Lucy getting a shot. (Lucy got teary-eyed, too, but only as she was receiving the shot.) Lucy almost always offers some of whatever she's eating to Thomas.

Any fear or reservation I've had about having these children close together falls aside when I see how their sibling relationships grow. Lucy was perhaps the most important thing we could have given Peter, and Thomas allows Lucy to express a side of her that lights her up and makes her bloom.

Oh, they fight. There's hitting and biting and purposeful antagonism and preschooler-on-toddler violence that makes your heart break. It's not often and not out of control and usually easily quelled, although it would be much easier to break up a fight if I weren't so interested in having the two warring parties negotiate peace before signing a cease fire.

But mostly there's a lot of: reading together, singing one another's favorite songs, drawing pictures and wrapping up presents for each other, and making the baby laugh...just because you can.

some things Thomas loves (at twelve months)

(1) Thomas really loves animals. I'm not sure if he loves them more than the average toddler, or if I'm still amazed by the transition from squishy newborn to independent creature with wordy delights, but if there's a cat, dog, squirrel, or insect in the area, Thomas will sniff it out and grab it.

It's fine when it's an obliging dog or a friendly sheep at our local colonial celebration; it's another situation entirely when he's reaching for one of the many huge spiders that (literally) hang around.

(2) He loves our morning smoothies and can sip from a straw like the best of them. He's been doing this for a while, but I'm only posting it now because he's one and "officially" allowed to eat some of the prohibited ingredients of our smoothies, including peanut butter, almond milk, and yogurt.

(3) The swings! Surprise, surprise. He'll take off for them on his own, too. Here's a toddler who knows what he wants!

(4) Anything related to balls. Tossing them and catching them are of particular interest, although simply holding a ball is fun, too.

(5) Climbing. Stairs, step stools, tables, fences: it makes no difference to this guy. Usually, it's cute and funny. Once, it freaked me out and gave me another good reason to leave a sink full of dirty dishes for Kevin. Luckily, he has nearly mastered the art of coming down the stairs, too. (Also mastered: the art of the safe fall. Most landings are on his cushy bottom.)

grossed out

It takes a bit to gross me out these days, but last week's one-two punch of the dead snake in the driveway (head run over by a bicycle, so hypothesized the preschool sleuths of our cul-de-sac) and finding a jar full of gigantic grubs that the kids had collected and then abandoned pretty much did it.

(Also, the plate of apples that we sliced two weeks ago and left out to observe didn't help. I had to move it outside when I realized that "glistening" I observed was really insect larvae moving around. Peter got a kick out of watching the little buggers with his magnifying glass, though.)

apple prints + a skeleton

We've been studying apples these past few weeks, which is a great way to welcome the fall. (Another great way to welcome fall is to enjoy foggy, cool mornings outside, which we did as we waited for the farm to open. Here, the kids are drawing in their daily journals.)

As a spin on the regular apple-picking exercise, I decided to combine it with an art project and we hosted an apple-printing playdate at a local, tiny, wonderful organic orchard. (Well. The crazy mosquitoes were not wonderful, and the DEET-filled bug spray we used probably countered much of the organic effect. The mosquitoes were so bad, though, that I've never been happier to spray a bottle of chemicals all over myself and my kids.)

But the farm! It's such a sweet antidote to the over-the-top attractions at another orchard just down the road. (We love that orchard too, but mostly for its animals and playground and farm store full of toys and games and honey sticks.)

We picked apples for a bit, then the kids started exploring. I returned to the trees after taking Lucy to the bathroom to the announcement that the boys had discovered a skeleton in the compost piles. We guessed that it was a deer skeleton, amazingly intact and pretty awesome to examine.

Later, after buying our apples and chrysanthemums** and informing the not-at-all-surprised farmer about the deer skeleton, we started our art project.

There was stamping and the more general apple painting, and, in the case of Lucy, some overall body painting, too. Truthfully, the exercise was much less messy than I'd anticipated, although Lucy did admit to smearing paint on another boy's shirt. (And Thomas kept attacking his younger sister; I felt guilty about it the whole day.)

(there was also a squashphone!)

*Also, it gives me the best excuse when Lucy tries to toss an $8 pint of organic blueberries into our cart at the market. "Oh, Lucy, don't forget, we're doing apples this week!" We've now entered the season when the only fresh fruit our budget can accommodate apples and citrus fruit, and our freezer is extra full of frozen berries to prove it.

**Top-10 reason to home school: parents learn, too. In this case, Kevin learned that "mum" is short for "chrysanthemum."