Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Computer skills

I don't know if the dogs were to be organized by colour or size - but I didn't listen to Zoe's instructions. Fortunately, you knew what was going on.

You have mastered the computer games on the Sesame Street website. Last night while supper was cooking, you wanted to "play Elmo games." And for the first time ever, you did it by yourself. Not only did you make a perfect jack-o-lantern, you organized dogs according to size, then by colour.

This was the second face. The first was a perfectly traditional jack-o-lantern face.

And this morning, you must have been practising in your dreams because your click and drag skills blew us away. You click on 'next game' instead of whining, "different Elmo game." You listen to instructions - and then you follow them. Today you matched animal tracks and clicked on the white socks on a clothes lines so they dropped into Elmo's laundry basket. I never thought my 27 month old 'baby' would ever be so talented... Well done!

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Let's pretend...

This playing with toys thing is pretty new for you. You'd seen toys, held them, fiddled with them to find out how they worked, but you were never really into them until a few months ago. Maybe not even that long since you got a bunch for your birthday that weren't really that exciting until maybe September. Now it's very important that we "play toys" at every opportunity.

You pretend that we have tiny, little kitties or little Elmos or sometimes little babies that we can hold in our hands. "Oh, so cute!" you always say. And we always play doctor. "Hurt, mommy doctor" and you'll lay down on the couch for an examination. You like when we listen to your heart with the stethoscope and you like to give needles. And every sticker we find is a "ban-aid" - except on the weekend it was a sticky circle of velcro that unfortunately got stuck in my hair and came out with a nice-sized clump.

Last week, there was this little retro kitchen at Costco that we could barely tear you away from. I asked you what was for supper. "Food" you told me. Like duh, Mom. You quickly threw in "noonals" to further satisfy me. Since then you've been doing a lot of cooking in the kitchen. Mostly buttons, pen lids and ribbon, but ummmmm, are they tasty!

With Christmas coming, we are about to be hit with an onslaught of toys from all directions. And I feel bad. You are two - how can you possibly play with that many toys? And what are we going to do with them when you and any siblings you might have grow out of them? I have a lot of guilt, so I'm just hoping your new love of toys sticks around for a while... Time to start you an RESP to divert good intentions with better ones.

Monday, November 12, 2007

A questionable palate

Guess what's in the glass. C'mon, betcha a million dollars you won't be able to guess what lovely meal is stewed up in that glass before you read any further...

Last night we had salmon for supper. Wild salmon caught in the Japanese Sea. You'll usually have a couple bites of the salmon, maybe some rice. But last night, well, it was a little different.

You began by begging for the onions Dad was sautéing for rice. Okay. So, we gave you half cooked one - and you ate it. And wanted more. So we put a couple more on a plate before closing the lid to cook the rice - and you gobbled those up, too. You even said yummy.

When supper was finally ready, you were excited to sit at the table. At first, you picked at your basmati rice with onions and corn with snow peas. Then I put some salmon on your plate, mixed it with some rice and fed it to you. It was all good until you saw the dish the fish was cooked in. You climbed onto my knee and proceeded to eat no less than the skin of one portion of salmon. Fine. It was silver and shiny, sticky and fatty and the canned varieties come with skin and bones inside. I gagged a little while you ate it - and loved it - but then you just got carried away.

Oh, the joys of watching an artist at work. Creative juices and all.

You had a little shot glass of prune juice - we used the shot glass to make sure you knew it was a 'special' drink - and then you started getting all gourmet. A little rice, then a little salmon, then you'd drink it down. More juice to top it off, then you'd drink it again. Mmmmm. But then you got really fancy and layed the limp snow peas across the glass and sprinkled corn atop your pièce de résistance. Ta da! And there we had the most disgusting thing you've ever eaten - and drank.

Satisfied after her meal. Notice the leftover fish skin in the bottom left of the picture.

But I think that salmon skin had calming properties because you didn't wake up last night at 2ish like you do every night. You didn't wake up until 5:50 a.m. saying, "Morningtime, Mom. Get up. Get up now. Come play toys with Yilya."

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Kinda miserable

Since coming down with your cold last Tuesday or so, you have been miserable. I've been miserable and stressed out and Dad's grouchy because he has to deal with us. Our schedule in the last couple weeks has been almost three times as busy as usual which is a dramatic and unwelcome increase. We're homebodies. We like to be at home doing nothing. It's what makes us happy.

Last night you had had it. We were on the computer playing Elmo games when you lost it. You started yelling out your demands, crying hysterically. With no chance of consoling you, I walked away. I went upstairs to make you some warm milk while you yelled at me from the bottom of the stairs, all the while doing angry bum drops on the hard floor. Still bawling, you came upstairs and started pulling at my leg. When I asked you to calm down, you again became hysterical so again I walked away. You threw yourself on the kitchen floor and for no less than four minutes you kicked and cried and yelled. When you found the energy to come into the living room to find me, you finally let me pick you up. I got you to take a few deep breaths, took you downstairs, shut of the light, wrapped you in a blanket and held you. Ten minutes later you popped your head up and said, "Yaya feel better now." Well, thank god because that was horrible.

But again this morning, you stood outside the bathroom banging on the door and crying while I showered. In a towel with sopping wet hair, I had to hold you close against my chest until you felt like you could go on with the rest of the day. Poor kid. I wonder if you're out of sorts because I had to work my last Friday off. That sure screwed me up. But this weekend will be wonderful - all five days of it. I have Friday off, Monday is a holiday for Remembrance Day and I'm using some overtime to take Tuesday off. So nice.

You are making much better sentences this week. You asked "Where is Daddy going?" instead of "Daddy go?" And the other night you stopped crying long enough to ask, "Why can't Yaya have booby right now?" even if you really don't want to know the answer...