Waxing parental

A few weekend notes. Saturday we took a trip to the mall so we could do some trading, which meant a few nice treats for Sam, including a sawbuck ride on the merry go round, and a trip to the candle store, where I let him pick out a cheap one to add to his collection.

Susan says all kids this age are narcissists, and I suspect she's right. In the clothing store he went into the changing rooms. The walls had mirrors, so he put his nose right up to the corner, where he could see three images of himself. He praised his reflections, saying, "you look good, you look good, you look good." This is a boy whose self image isn't suffering!

* * *

This evening we gave Sam a bath, which is a great way to pass the time. Sam has a head cold, and is quite sniffly. As Susan was drying him off, Sam wiped his nose on the towel. Susan naturally expressed dismay at this. Sam, surprised and the picture of innocence, said to her, "Is this your favorite towel?"

Cuddlefish?

This morning I drove Sam to Montessori as usual. I preheat the car and put a blanket on his lap. (My family would even recognize the blanket--I remember our using it as a lap blanket in the old Pontiac Catalina.) He chatted amiably with Max, who doled out the occasional goldfish cracker.

On the way there he said he wanted to go fishing. I was surprised. I asked if he liked fishing, and he said yes. Lake or river? Lake. In a boat or on shore? On shore. Would he eat the fish or toss them back? Toss them back. Then he said he'd cuddle them. I agreed that was a good idea. Fish must be very short on cuddling.

Weekend Sam Report

Exhausted Parent Warning: This won't be a coherent entry.

Sam has taken to telling secrets to his stuffed animals. And when he tells a secret he leans close and whispers nonsense syllables. Snoopy doesn't know the difference. Yesterday this turned into a game where he told secrets to Snoopy, Snoopy repeated them to me, and then I told Sam what the secrets were! This went on for some time. Always fun when the games involve a little creativity.


Sam continues to enjoy the castle. Today Susan had a passel of boys over for a play date, and they swarmed about it, one even asking if he could take some of the little knights home.

In an unrelated note, I've learned how much easier it makes parenting if I can outwait Sam. This evening he needed to take a potty break, but he wouldn't admit it. I eventually dragged him into the bathroom and wouldn't let him leave, but I also wasn't going to haul down his trousers--I figured I would let him handle things himself. He was stalling and resisting, so I said That's fine, I have something here to read. He was interested, of course, so I read aloud. Not something I would normally have read him, a sermon from the recently deceased Catholic priest and writer Richard John Neuhaus. Happened also to be on the topic of death. Sam observed that he didn't want to die, and I allowed as how it will be quite some time before he has to worry about it.

Conflict, potty training, and death. Add in talk of sex and Freud would really be delighted.

Once Sam realized I wasn't going to force him to do anything--just not let him leave until he did--he got right down to business and did what needed to be done like a champ. Success! I am a reed which bends but doesn't break. At least, not that time.

Last image: A really great thing about being a parent is that you have an excuse to watch shows like Sesame Street. This evening after Sam was down Susan shared a great little SS skit called "Put Down the Duckie." It has many cameos of famous people even including Itzhak Perlman. But the most amusing are these two, from the old PBS show Upstairs Downstairs:

Sweet Dreams

Sam's been starting to think about and, once in a while, remember his dreams. Of course, we are fascinated, since, well, we are fans of over-analysis who would love to open his little head up and see what's there. (Several mice on a bed of bright green moss? That's my guess.)

Last night Max was talking to Sam (courtesy of Susan) and Sam mentioned that he'd had a dream:

SAM: "I dreamed there was a forest. And there was a little girl crying because her mommy was gone [or she wanted her mommy]."

SUSAN/MAX: "Did you comfort her?"

SAM: "Nope. And there were parents without any children. They were gardening."

S/M: "Did they help the little girl? Did anyone help her?"

SAM: "Nope."

Susan says there was no trace of sorrow or concern or worry in Sam's voice. No eyes-with-parentheses. Didn't seem to bug him at all. That either means he's well-adjusted or sociopathic. If I only had a dime for every time we've had to choose between those two!

Snowy Zoo

Sam and I took a trip to the Zoo this morning. It's 16 degrees out with a coating of snow on the ground, which means the Zoo is nice and empty! We did this last year and had a lot of fun playing with the lonely sea lions.

As usual, his favorite animals weren't the ones you expect. First, we saw some wild deer on the way in and pulled the car over to watch them graze and wander by. Sam had a eureka moment related to animal locomotion. He suddenly and enthusiastically said, Wait a second! All sorts of animals step on three feet! I think by this he means they lift one of their four legs at a time. Anyway, it was a neat observation, and even neater that he had an observation.

In the Zoo we mostly went from building to building to stay warm. We weren't the only ones with that thought: The Zoo has half a dozen guinea fowl it lets roam the grounds, uncaged. Well, as some other patrons wandered by one of the buildings, the automatic door openers opened, and the birds hurried into the warmth. Sam was as delighted as they were (they are,after all, used to evading toddlers). He followed them around the building happily. After doing this for a while I dragged him into the bathroom, and while we were in there we could hear the fowl chirping just outside the door. It was the most benign parallel to Jurassic Park I will ever experience.

I have one other non-Zoo Sam quote worth sharing. I got up with him this morning and he and I played for quite some time with a new toy he got from his Grandpa Gene, his grandparents Nana and Grandad Collins, and us. (Being Playmobil, it wasn't so much paid for as underwritten.) Grandpa Gene and Nana and Grandad Collins, thank you!

After that, we had a breakfast of toaster waffles. Only in the middle of the meal did I remember we needed to say grace--so I let Sam know, and thanked God for our food. After my brief prayer he informed me, I can't pray because my hands are sticky. So I think now maybe he'll be a prophet. Isaiah already had unclean lips covered, so Sam's gig can be sticky hands.

* * *

Amusing Addendum: All parents, I think, have the experience of trying to keep a child awake while driving someplace in the car, usually to avoid spoiling or canceling out a nap. (And even though parents will bundle a child to the point of immobility in cold weather, many of us have no qualms about opening the car window in 17-degree weather in order to keep a child awake. Naps are sacred and not to be wasted on car trips.) Well, Sam's caught onto this as a way to get attention. Driving back with him from the Zoo Saturday he put his head down and closed his eyes. When I noticed I started trying to revive him only to find he had been faking! The game then went like this: He'd close his eyes an feign sleep, but at the same time call out, "Daddy, I'm sleeping!" I would then reach back and tickle him and we'd start over. It was very amusing--even more than his successful attempt to get attention in the car by taking off one shoe and sock and then wait, giggling, for me to discover it. Kids.

Shutterbug

Ruth and Paul, Sam's beloved South Dakota aunt and uncle, gave Sam a Fisher-Price digital camera for Christmas. It's meant for toddlers, so it has all the robustness attributed to Timex watches in the old commercials--I am pretty sure a 300-pound scuba diver could sit on it and do no damage. (Though I wouldn't want to see the photos.)

The reason this gift is so great is that it gives us a little window into Sam's brain. And not the parts devoted to chasing the cats or flinging food. It reminds me a little of the experiments you used to read about it National Geographic, where they taught sign language to a primate. All of a sudden you learned about the likes, dislikes, and even humor of some large ape. This yields such priceless anecdotes as the time Koko the gorilla charged a zookeeper, scaring him witless, and then signed, "Be calm and share the bananas."

So far Sam's adventures with the camera have mostly shown the sort of mugging we adults like to do for the camera. But there's something endearing about the angle of the photos--whether it's at a neck-crankling upward tilt or down at Zoe sleeping (though not for long) under the tree. I look forward to seeing what else he comes up with.