A Preschooler and an Equestrian

Liana and I went upstate for a lovely trip. We came back, and I promptly got sick and sat like a lump for days, failing to return phone calls or engage in any of the planned pre- preschool activities. And then, toddlerhood came to a close, and Liana officially became a preschooler. Well, sort of. She had a two hour day at the school today. First full day tomorrow. She clearly loves it. She is so ready to have her world expanded. But she asked me if I was going to go to the spa while she was at preschool. I said no, I was going to go to work. And she laughed and said “No mommy! You go to work when I go to Beatriz’s house.” So I guess in spite of all of our productive discussions about preschool, she does not realize that this new reality actually replaces the old reality.

Or perhaps she thinks I’ve retired and that I’m going to dedicate my life to spa treatments. Who knows?

Upstate was great. Liana does not like bugs. She was unimpressed by woods and mountains. I tried to drag her on nature walks, and she demanded that I remove ants from the path. However, I discovered yet another Liana-talent.

We all know how she loves animals. And the first thing she announced when we arrived was “I’m going to ride a big giant horse.” Awww. How sweet.

I called and arranged a pony ride. I suspected that we might get close, pet the pony, cry a bit, and then talk about how it is ok to be afraid. Ummmm…..

But Liana spoke the truth. She did ride a “big, giant horse.” Daily.

At first she was a little afraid of his face. But she had no fear on top of him. She rode Fresno as if this is something she does everyday. The F train. The 33 bus. Oh. She also rode Comanche, who was a pony, while she was in daycamp and I was at the spa.

But we will never forget Fresno, the big giant horse. Liana’s rite of passage, during he last week of toddlerhood.

“Hold on tight mommy. Otherwise you could fall down and then you’ll be sad,” my daughter advises me as we sway back and forth on the standing room only bus.

Otherwise? Did she really say otherwise?

Passengers smile at her. She chatters. Looking out the window, she says “Look mommy! That cloud looks like a big rabbit!”

Mommy, if you see a dandelion, will you pick it for me?

Yes, Liana. If I see a dandelion I will pick it and give it to you.

And if you see a white one, will you pick it? And can I blow on it? Can I make a wish?

Yes Liana. If I see a white dandelion, you can pick it and blow on it and make a wish.

Mommy, I’m going to wish that you get me a surprise, ok?

Passengers giggle. At least two or three times a week on the bus, someone asks me how old she is. When I say 2 ½, they always gasp in disbelief.

Liana got a new puzzle last weekend. She loves puzzles, and can put together a 24 piece puzzle with a little help the first time or second time, and then she can put it together by herself. I am awed by her visual and spatial orientation. Certainly not one of my skills, but for her, it is second nature.

In any case, the puzzle had pictures of farm animals. We put the puzzle together the first time, and talked about the animals. There is a cow, a sheep, a chicken, a duck, a pig. They all live on farms.

Later, we were talking about the puzzle. Was there an elephant in the puzzle? No! Elephants live on the savannah! Was there a dolphin? No! Dolphins live in the ocean! Was there a monkey? No! Monkeys live in the rainforests or the jungles! Was there a cow? Sure! There was a cow! Cows live on farms!

That was fun for a while, and gave us lots of content for a nice discussion.

Later, Liana was playing with the puzzle by herself, and I was sitting at my computer. Liana finished the puzzle herself, and called me over to admire her work. She was looking at the puzzle, and something clicked. She got all excited, and told me to “Stay right here, ok? Don’t go away. Stay right here!”

She disappeared into her room for a few minutes, and then reappeared with a book. It was a “baby” touch and feel board book, with pictures of baby animals and their names and they had fur or feathers or scales to touch. I had not pulled that book off her bookshelf in 8 or 10 months. Maybe even a year. It was a book she had, in my mind, outgrown.

She had already flipped through the book, and had opened to the farm animal page.

Look Mommy!!!!! Farm animals!!!! See???? A cow! A sheep! A goat! A baby chick! See????

We looked at the animals in the book, and then compared them to the animals in the puzzle. We then turned at looked at the other pages in the book, and there were some of the same categories that we had been talking about during our discussion. Ocean animals. Jungle animals. Pets. Polar animals.

Liana is a city girl. She has never been to a farm. The only goats and sheep and cows she has ever seen are in the petting zoo. But something in her head went click, and she really understood. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had filed away the information in that book, and when she thought about the puzzle, she made the connection from so long ago, and went to find the relevant page!

I love being a mom. Watching Liana learn about the world, and sharing her discoveries is so amazing.

I feel like a jerk.

I’ve been really really mad at Beatriz, my day care provider, for the better part of a week. She has not seemed the least bit supportive of Liana’s newly discovered interest in the potty. One day she yelled at me because Liana had gone poopies in her pull up, and then she sent Liana to the bathroom, unaware, and poopies had gotten all over everything, including the bathroom and Liana herself. I yelled back, and said that if she had been paying attention, she would have noticed that Liana had found a corner, squatted down, rolled her eyes back in her head, and had gone poopies BEFORE she sent her to the ill-fated trip to the bathroom. I was LIVID to find Liana wrapped up in diapers, after more than a week of just one single accident at home.

The next day Beatriz sat me down and gave me the “all children are different” lecture, explaining that some children are potty trained at 18 months, and others are not potty trained at 3 years. She went on to say that Liana was just not ready for pull ups, and that I had unrealistic expectations, and that the pressure that I was putting on her was not good for her. When I countered that Liana had initiated the whole series of events, and pointed out that at home she wore underpants, and I only put pull ups on while she was out on the street and at daycare, she shook her head as if I were being an obstinate toddler myself. I was furious.

And on top of the potty training resistance, I’ve been really cranky about the move. Beatriz’s daycare was a three minute walk from home. I then walked 12-13 minutes to work. This is the way I had arranged my life. In July, Beatriz moved to a new location, which is a 35-40 minute commute to her place, 35-40 minutes to work, 35-40 minutes on pick up, 35-40 minutes home. In other words, I’ve lost two hours per day of my life all summer. And where does that two hours come from? Work? Playing with Liana? Sleeping? There were not enough hours in the day before the move.

So when Beatriz would not get on board with the whole potty training stuff, I was LIVID. Drop offs and pick ups were tense. Our previously warm connection seemed to have disappeared, and I even suspected her of sabotaging our pre-school plans with her lack of support.

And then Beatriz called on Sunday. She is in the hospital. Pancreatic stones? Surgery on Tuesday. Apparently, she has been in terrible pain for more than a week. And I was so much in my self-centered mode, that I didn’t notice. Apparently the other moms knew..

I’m usually more sensitive. I feel like a jerk.

It has been a great year and a half with Beatriz. In September, Liana starts preschool. But since February 2008, Beatriz has provided a loving, structured environment for Liana. Amazingly healthy meals. She has nurtured Liana’s artistic nature, and designed projects in which Liana created amazing pieces of art that I will cherish forever. Lines and circles, Beatriz explained. Too early to start working on letters. Everything comes from lines and circles. And I have seen Liana combine those lines and circles to create animals and people and flowers and buildings and doors, and even a series of pictures of our cruise ship. Apparently they do tai chi in front of the TV. Liana can do tai chi moves that awe me, and that are too complex for me to even imitate. And ballet too. And Liana now dances a mean cumbia. Liana explains to me every night when I pour her a glass of milk, that milk builds strong muscles. She flexes her arm with pride. I didn’t teach her that. Liana could put on her own socks before turning two. I sure didn’t have the patience to teach her that. Liana has learned so much with Beatriz. It has been a good year and a half.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that our last weeks together have been tainted by sickness, and worse. By ill will.

Warning: Potty Talk Ahead

I *think* it has finally happened. And it came out of nowhere! I had really started to believe that Liana would go to her senior prom in diapers.

Liana was “sitting” happily on the potty almost a year ago. She liked it. By the time she was 2, she was going pee pee a couple of times a day in the potty. I had friends who were pushing their kids screaming onto the potty. I was smug about my approach. No hurry. Get her comfortable. Lot’s of positive reinforcement, blah blah blah.

By January/early February, I thought we were there. She sometimes asked to go to the potty on her own. She often stayed dry all night in her diapers. Just one more step, and we would be done.

But then the smugness faded. By February/March, she flat out refused to sit on the potty. At all. Ever. The mere suggestion that she use the potty sent her into a rage. In the spring we went out and bought “big girl” panties. She picked them out, and was all excited. She wore them almost exclusively for almost a full weekend, with minimal accidents. And then the refusal. No interest in panties. No interest in potties. She threw the potty training books and videos with an anger normally reserved for those moments in which she is denied ice cream cone she thought was hers, or forced to leave a party that she is enjoying in spite of being overly tired.

I set the cruise as a goal. No swimming in the pool in diapers. Even swim diapers. We talked about it. She agreed it was a reasonable goal. But she made no effort to be civil when I suggested she sit on the potty.

I took one full suitcase of diapers on the cruise.

And then, last Thursday night, she came home and said she wanted to wear big girl panties! Friday, she wanted to wear pull ups to daycare. She used the daycare potty as soon as we arrived. Out to dinner Friday night, used the restaurant potty, went to the park to play after dinner, and had an accident in the elevator on the way home, less than a minute away from her potty at home. That’s ok. Everyone has accidents.

Brunch on Saturday in Forest Hills. Potty in the restaurant again. Up and down Austin street, in and out of stores. We arrived home with a dry pull up. OOOOH. But the big event was before brunch. I had a HUGE Dora sticker on display in the bathroom, and she knew that she would get it the first time she went poopie in the potty. Which she did Saturday morning! So she proudly wore a one-foot long Dora sticker on her dress all day in Forest Hills. And told total strangers who commented on the sticker that she had “done HUGE POOPIES in the potty.”

Today we did the Queens Zoo and the Colombian Festival in Flushing Meadow Park. Potty at the zoo. Potty near Shea Stadium station. Arrived home with a dry pull up! Happily using the potty herself here at home.

Can it be? Is it true? Are our diaper days over????

We're Back!

Liana and I have returned from our wonderful cruise. She was 90% my joyous angel-girl, 5% my tired/confused/cranky girl, and 5% the exorcist child. In other words, the trip was a great success.

It was the easiest trip in the world. Cab to 55th street, and we walked on the ship. Cruised to Grand Turk, Half Moon Cay and Nassau. The ship was VERY child-friendly. My hope was that Liana would like the daycamp enough to spend two mornings there so that I could have two spa days. Well, she wanted to go back EVERY DAY, and even asked several times to go back in the afternoon. At dinner, the waiters sang and danced, and one picked up Liana and danced with her almost every night. We had a great table at dinner... two other single moms, (with teenagers!) and a grandma with her grandson. Dinners were tough, because most days she didn't get a nap, so somewhere between 6-7:30 she got clingy and demanding. But not too bad.

Liana loved the beaches. She loved our trip to the aquarium. We did our first build-a-bear workshop on board. We had lots of lunch picnics on our balcony. She ate way too much ice cream, and way too much chocolate. She got her face painted a lot. We hung out in lounges and she sat on quite a few barstools. Oh. And she became addicted to virgin pina coladas.

I'll tell more stories later, but I've waited way too long to get these pictures up. A few now. More later.

I pick Liana up at daycare, and as we are walking home I ask, “So what did you do today?”

Without missing a beat, she said:

“I fell out of a tree and hurt my wrist and my mom gave me a note to get out of gym class.”

Ummmm. Liana is two and a half. She doesn’t climb trees in daycare, and she has no idea what gym class is.

As delighted as I am that Liana seems to have mastered the pre-reading skill of identifying with the primary character in a story, I continue to be frustrated that she often tells me elaborate things that aren’t true.

One day she told me a long and detailed story about a little girl in daycare throwing food, and subsequently getting a time out. As she told and retold the story, I started to be suspicious. The food, it turns out, was chocolate cake, chocolate cookies, and broccoli. Hmmmm. The next day I asked the daycare provider about the incident. There was NO incident. No food throwing. No cake or cookies in this organic only household. And the child in question had not gotten a time out in months.

After a late winter snowstorm, I picked her up from daycare, and asked her if Beatriz, her daycare provider, had taken them out in the snow. She said yes. I was delighted. I asked her what they did in the snow. She said they made snowballs and snowmen and snow angles. I looked at her pants, the same ones I had dressed her in that morning. She did not look like she had been making snow angels. I asked who went out in the snow. She named two of the kids. I asked if Beatriz had gone too. She said “No, she stayed home.” Ummmm. So my daycare provider is sending two two year olds and a three year old out onto the urban streets, unaccompanied, to play in the snow? And they were so careful out there by themselves, that they didn’t even get wet or dirty!

Then there is Cousin Lily. I have no idea who Cousin Lily is. I thought she was a character in a story she reads at daycare. Or a TV show she watches at daycare. I don’t know anyone named Lily, and apparently neither does my daycare provider. But often in the evenings, we await Cousin Lily’s arrival. She never seems to really arrive, but Liana waits for her a lot. ”Mommy! We can’t take a bath now! Cousin Lilly is coming!” “Cousin Lily is coming, so we have to get ready. She can play with the bear and I can play with the rabbit!” Sometimes she tells me stories about things that Cousin Lily did earlier in the day. Things she ate or said.

Liana has a creative mind, and a fertile imagination. And I want to nurture her creativity. But reality and fantasy blur together, and I often can’t tell which is which!

Nothing better than Spring in NY! You've already seen Liana's aquarium art, but we had a full and exciting day at Coney Island. Here are Liana and Layla on the beach, and Liana is flying her first kite.

ART!!!!!

Ok. I know I've turned into one of those moms who thinks that everything my kid does is more amazing than anything any child has done in the history of planet earth. But we went to the aquarium over the weekend, and when we got home, Liana drew pictures of the things she saw.

Here is the otter and the jellyfish.

Now is it just me, or is this really amazing art for a 2 1/2 year old?????

Liana continues to spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about and talking about dinosaurs. And worrying about dinosaurs. About a month ago I lost patience with the umpteenth conversation in which I was asked to assess the probability that a dinosaur was lurking in some corner of our home. So out of frustration, I monologued. I explained to Liana in great detail that there were no dinosaurs, and provided on overview of the current theories concerning events leading up to the extinction of the dinosaurs. She seemed to have no interest in my monologue. In fact, she basically seemed to ignore me, and turned her attention to the needs of the inhabitants of her dollhouse.

A few days later, we were going to give our neighbor Antonia tres besos, an evening tradition. As we approached the door out of our apartment, Liana asked if there were dinosaurs on the other side. I firmly insisted, NO DINOASAURS. Liana listened, and as we opened the door, she chanted the mantra, no dinosaurs, no dinosaurs, no dinosaurs. And I guess something clicked in her head.

As we knocked on Antonia’s door, Liana excitedly started carrying on about dinosaurs.

"ANTONIA! ANTONIA! The dinosaurs, they go ROAR! ROAR. They have the teeth, the big teeth. The claws. Go ROAR. And then the big rock come down. It go BOOM. And the dinosaurs, the dinosaurs get cold and go brrrrrrr. And the dinosaurs, the dinosaurs, they leave their BONES on the EARTH!!!!!!"

Ummm. Wow.

Note to self: She is always listening to everything I say. Everything.

Dora Live at Radio City Music Hall

No one enjoyed the show more than we did. From the moment we stepped out of the taxi and become part of the sea of moms with strollers and bouncing pre-schoolers hugging their Dora balloons, Liana and I were both absorbed into the magic.

Even the men who have been standing on the same corner since my own youth identified us immediately, making good eye contact and asking with feigned concern, “need tickets? Liana, who had gotten cranky during the cab ride and insisted that she wanted to go home by the time we hit Third Ave., immediately got into the spirit of the event, and as I navigated her stroller through the chaos, she bounced excitedly. When she saw the Dora balloons the vendors were selling on the street, her eyes opened wide, and her mouth formed the biggest circle you could imagine on such a little kid. As she pointed purposefully towards the balloons, her body became frozen with anticipation. I shelled out the $10 for the balloon, with no regrets. Her joy was unbridled.

Ticketing was ridiculously easy. We went to the will-call line, and were shuffled to the ticket window in less than a minute. We than had lots of time to kill, so we went for a walk to look at the flags at Rockefeller Center. We ultimately got to our seats with almost a half hour before the show. A walk to the bathroom took a few minutes, but there was a beacon on our seats pulling Liana back. Once we had settled in back in, she knew exactly where we were, and there was no pulling her away. When I suggested we go for a little walk, she said “No, I just want to sit here and watch Dora, ok?” So we sat and watched the seats fill up around us.

As the show started, Boots and other minor characters came on stage, and they were all looking for Dora and asking where she was. Liana was literally on the edge of her seat. “Mommy? Where Dora? Mommy! They no can find Dora!.” And finally, with great concern, “Mommy. Maybe Dora no coming.” At last, when Dora burst through the letter “O’ in her name, the excitement was beyond description. At the end of each song, Liana would turn to me pleadingly and ask if we could see “One more? Please!!!!!!” While older kids (3 and 4 year olds) had reached the limit of their attention spans, and were climbing on chairs and playing with toys and torturing parents who wished the whole thing would just end, Liana followed the plot intensely. When Dora and Boots arrived at a river, and didn’t know how to cross, Liana asked me how they would find a boat. I said I didn’t know. A boat magically appeared, and the joy of the moment replaced the very rational concern of “how” they would find the boat they needed.

The crowd up on the Second Mezzanine was an interesting bunch. I would say about 1/3 black, about 1/3 latino, a sprinkling of Asians, and whites in the minority. Mostly little girls, ages 3-5 being the largest group, and Liana being one of the younger in the crowd. A few babies with their big sisters. A few big girls, 8 or 9, looking dreadfully embarrassed to be dragged to such an event with their younger siblings. Lots of mom/daughter groups. Some large families. The mom next to me talked on her cell phone almost the entire show. Everyone seemed to be making illegal videos of the event with their cameras or cell phones. There was always the sound of a child having a tantrum somewhere off in the distance. I f eared that the tantruming child would be Liana when the show was over. She recognized the finale, and begged, begged, begged for more. But the peer pressure won over, and as the lights went on, and everyone was putting on her coats, she sighed a deep sigh, and said in a melancholy sing song voice “time to go home.” I struggled with the stroller unfolding at the stroller check, rolling around with the miserable thing on the floor as passing children tried to grab at Liana’s precious Dora balloon and I tried to keep track the balloon, my child and my purse.

We left beautiful Radio City with the crowds, and headed home… so happy with our first theatrical production together. My sweet Liana, there will be so many more. I promise.

Things I’ve Learned in the Past 24 Hours

The beautiful parquet floors in my gracious pre-war apartment slope.

Eggs placed on sloping floors roll.

All little things that roll on the floor belong really to my cat, who likes to swat them with one paw, and then the other until they are very very far away from where they started out.

All of the above stated conditions have resulted in Liana’s ability to find 11 of the 12 hardboiled eggs that I hid last night. The last egg may never be found.

There is absolutely no way to “save” chocolate bunnies and chocolate lollypops for later.

Sugar buzzes lead to sugar crashes. Liana is very very calm right now.

NEVER NEVER NEVER go to the Museum of Natural History on a rainy day during spring break.

We are getting ready to go to Liana’s first live theater: Dora City of Lost Toys at Radio City Music Hall. I suspect that my learning for the day has not ended.

Ordinary Moments from the Weekend:

Mommy, let’s sing a song!

Ok honey. What song do you want to sing?

Let’s sing the “ba-da-ba-da” song.

I don’t know that song.

MOMMY!!!!! You know the ba-da-ba-da song!

No honey, I don’t. Is that a song you sing with Beatriz?

NO MOMMY. You KNOW that ba-da-ba-da song.

Liana, I don’t think I know that song. Why don’t you sing it for me.

She looks at me with that “why are you being so dumb” look that will taunt me during her teenager years… a preview of what is to come. And she starts to sing.

Ba-da-ba-da world so high, like a diamond in the sky…..

…………………………………………………

An ordinary moment. An idyllic mommyhood moment. I’m making a big pot of lentil soup. I’m chopping up onions and garlic and tomatoes and mushrooms and cilantro. I’ve got Liana set up a few feet away at the kitchen table, working with bright blue play doe. Youtube is playing mommy-music for a change… Franklin’s Tower and a 9-minute version of Scarlet Begonias. We are both singing as we work on our various projects. Then the play doe gets dull, and she comes over to see what I am doing with all those interestingly-colored veggies on the counter. She asks to be lifted up, and I lift her up to see. She looks, and I put her back down and continue chopping. She asks to be lifted again, and I stop chopping, lift her again, and then put her down to continue chopping. She is not pleased. She wants to watch me chop. I explain that I can’t hold her and chop at the same time. She walks out of the kitchen with determination. A moment later I hear her dragging something. It is her step-stool from the bathroom. She drags it all the way to the kitchen, and places it next to me. Then she steps up on it, and watches me chop. Now is she a great little problem solver, or what?

On the topic of monsters and dinosaurs and things that go bump in the night…..

Liana and Carol and I went out to brunch a couple of weeks ago. The plan was for her to pick my brain about social models in utopian fiction, since she knows that it is my favorite literary genre and she had decided to try her hand at some fiction writing. The plan was a brunch discussion, followed by a trip to the book store in which I would introduce her to the work of Kim Stanely Robinson and she would introduce me to the work of Octavia Butler and her ladyship would get some books about… well… ladybugs and whatnot.

But during brunch, neither Carol nor I managed to finish more than one consecutive sentence. Liana DOMINATED the brunch conversation with long, detailed and entertaining monologues about monsters and dinosaurs.

The go ROOAARRRR. The have the big eyes…two eyes. The nose, the ears, the mouth, the teeth. (pointing to each body part in an animated manner) One, two, three, four, five teeth. The have the claws and go ROOOAARRRR. The dinosaur no eat the apple. The crocodile at the apple. He go chomp chomp chomp. Then the go ROOOAAARRRR. The say yummy. He bite it. The teeth. BIG teeth. The go ROOOAARRRR.

And on. And on. For nearly an hour and a half, Liana monologued about monsters and dinosaurs and other scary things.

Kind of anti-utopian fiction, I guess.

Some day, on one of those rare occasions that Liana is actually asleep, perhaps I will read Carol’s work. In terms of discussing it…. Ummmmm…. That does not seem like something we are going to do now.

“No be afraid Mommy. You stay here. I look for dinosaurs.”

“Ok Liana. I’m not afraid.”

“Ok Mommy. Stay here.”

“Ok.”

So I stay under the blanket “tent” while Liana goes off by herself to explore the deepest darkest depths of the bedroom to find out if there are any dinosaurs lurking in shadowed corners.

She returns, pats my arm, and says “No be afraid Mommy. There no dinosaurs.”

“Oh good. Then I’m not afraid. Thank you Liana”

“You welcome mommy. Want to sing a song?”

I’ve been doing some reading about three year olds and monster fears. Liana will be two and a half in a couple of weeks, but being the advanced child that she is, she seems to have developed this fear early. Or perhaps her strong verbal skills are just helping her articulate them. I don’t know. The books and articles say not to try and be logical, not to belittle the fears, but to just reassure the child. Liana likes to be in control, and so she has decided that reassuring me will help the situation. So I play along.

Thought I'd share some of the cute things that Liana says.

Holding a blanket that she is about to put over her head. “I hide, you say BOO, ok?”

Arriving at daycare Monday morning, Liana’s 3 year old buddy Layla is arriving at the same time. Liana turns to greet her, and says “Hi Layla. How are you? How was your good day the mommy time?” I guess she was asking about her weekend.

She’s working on a project on the coffee table in the living room. She decides she needs to get something from her bedroom, and starts running to her room. As she passes the cat, who is seated on chair, she slows down, turns to him, and says “I’ll be right back Sage!”

Remember the opening line of One Hundred Years of Solitude/ Cien Anos de Soledad by Gabriel Garcia Marquez?

"Muchos anos despues, frente al peloton de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendia habia de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevo a conocer el hielo."

"Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, General Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice."

I’ve been thinking about that quote a lot in the past few days. Since Thursday. When Liana discovered the ice.

The ice was not on display by traveling gypsies. It was discovered in the form of an icicle hanging from a tree en route home from day care. But the resulting obsession seems no less profound.

Actually, there were a series of icicles. The ice cubes came later. The first icicle was so small that it melted in Liana’s hand before we entered the lobby. She thought that she had lost it, and insisted that we go back and get another. I explained that it had melted, and that we were going to watch the larger icicle melt as well. We ran into a neighbor, and Liana proudly announced that she had a “bicycle” and that we were going to watch it melt. I told Liana that we were going to watch it melt, and that it would get smaller and smaller and that it would disappear and turn into water. But she was not prepared for it to really disappear.

After the second icicle melted, she wanted to go back outside and get another. I was kind of not in the mood to put on hats and gloves and boots and coats and head back out into the cold in search of an icicle, so in a moment of brilliance, I produced an ice cube from the freezer. We watched that melt. And then Liana wanted another. And another.

She woke up on Friday morning, and the first thing she wanted was a “bicycle.” I told her that we would look for icicles later, and asked if she wanted an ice cube instead. She nodded enthusiastically. When we got to daycare, she told Beatriz all about “bicycles” melting, and apparently insisted on tending to at least one ice cube over the course of the day.

As I write, it is Sunday morning, and we are on our third ice cube so far. It’s melting! It’s melting! It’s turning into water! Mommy!!!! Look!!!!

Who knew?

Warning! Spoiler Ahead

If you have not read the book, don't worry about the firing squad. It turns out ok...but not for many many many pages.

Liana’s evolving syntax is a constant source of entertainment and amazement for me. As someone who has spent decades helping adults acquire foreign languages, I am really in awe of Liana’s language acquisition.

For example, the word “just” entered Liana’s vocabulary a couple of weeks ago. Just is a word that ESOL teachers don’t even worry too much about incorporating into a student’s active vocabulary. But Liana is suddenly using “just” and seems to understand all of its nuances.

JUST: A Tool for Persuasion

“Just one more cookie mommy?”

JUST: A Tool for Civil Disobedience.

“Come on Liana. Let’s put on our coats. It’s time to go.”

“I just sit here play my puzzle.”

“Liana!!! We have to go! Let’s put on our coats.”

“Mommy, I just sit here, ok?”

JUST: An Indicator of Sub-par

We are walking down our hallway, and we hear a door opening. Sometimes, Jonny is on the other side of the door. Liana LOVES Jonny.

The door opens. And Liana says:

“Oh. It just Olga.”

The nuance was not lost on Olga, who knows that Liana was hoping to see Jonny.