I jotted down some of Sammy's words as he played with trains this evening:
"Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my, OH ME, OH MY!"
"Buff, Buffer! Buff, Buffer! RrrrrrrRrrrrrRrrrrr…
"We did it, we did it, we did it!"
"Buffed the train!"
"That's Thomas."
"Green, green, orange, brown, red, blue!"
"Accidents happen, Accidents haaaappppeeen, ACCIDENTS HAAPPPEENN!"
"Nya, Nya, NYA, nya, nya, nya" (from a Japanese children's song about a lost kitten.)
"Puffer stop, PUFFER STOP, PUFFFFFFEEERRRRRRRR SSTTTOOOOOOOPPP!"
You may detect a pattern. Repetition is important. So is the addition of emphasis, which tends to grow with the repetition. But what I find utterly impossible to transcribe is the nascent musicality of much of his running monologue. Sometimes he's television theme song. Sometimes he's operatic. Sometimes he's punk. Actually, he's a lot of punk. But he loves to introduce a playful tonality and rhythm into all kinds of everyday communication, from "Chocolate!" to "No Baff!"
Monday, April 9, 2007
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Chick Magnet
Peter wants a farm. This is not actually a new desire on his part. But it has emerged with fresh intensity of late because of the latest attraction in his kindergarten, better far than the leprechauns who left little footprints all over the classroom in March.
Chicks.
Mrs. Norman brought an incubator for chicken eggs to hatch them in the classroom. The children watched over them with anxious eyes for what seemed to be ages, but last week the eggs finally broke open. First one, then six, then a dozen or so. Baby chicks. In the classroom. You couldn't tear the kids away without exerting considerable force of will…and body. I know, I was volunteering on Wednesday and spent most of my time either watching over the children when they were allowed to hold the chicks, and steering them away when it was time to give the little peep-peep-peepers a bit of rest.
Peter was enthralled, gently stroking the chicks in teacher-approved fashion with one finger, carefully cupping the chicks in two hands…and letting out shrieks and whoops from the sheer thrill of it all.
So he thinks we need an incubator at home. As for the question of what to do with the chicks when they would get bigger, well, let's just say he's not convinced that's really a problem. Maybe moving to a bigger house wouldn't provide a lasting solution to our space problems after all…
Going on an Egg Hunt...
"Easter" didn't mean much to the boys before this weekend, but I expect next year the mere mention of the word will send them into a frenzy. Especially Sammy, chocoholic that he is…
Basically we are treating Easter as a celebration of the arrival of spring, not going into any detailed explanations. But we were treated to two opportunities for egg hunts, which the boys entered into with great enthusiasm. On Saturday, our colleague and friend Dana opened up her beautiful garden for the children to search for cleverly hidden treats. It took some time for even the older ones to find all of the eggs, which meant there were a few minutes here and there available for grown up to appreciate the lovely spring day and good companionship as well…
Easter morning was celebrated with the neighborhood egg hunt. Parents stash eggs in a meadow nearby, a dozen per child, and then kids are let loose at 9:00. The toddlers get a few minutes lead, thank goodness, as the hunt gets pretty intense once the whole crowd is involved. Peter focused quite intently on the task at hand, and (ahem) may have collected a couple more than the official dozen. Sammy did well, too, greatly assisted by the kindly angel in the form of Charles' and Jenny's oldest daughter, Meg, who kept an eye out for the little ones and placed treats in their paths.
The last egg hunt (so far) was orchestrated by Peter, who wanted his own turn at being the one to hide eggs. He and I tucked eggs in and around our backyard, with Peter delighting equally in figuring out unusual places to place eggs and complementing me on my own stratagems. Since Sammy was still taking his nap, it fell to Alan to hunt for the eggs, which he did with great good humor.
(Hopefully, pictures will follow...)
Basically we are treating Easter as a celebration of the arrival of spring, not going into any detailed explanations. But we were treated to two opportunities for egg hunts, which the boys entered into with great enthusiasm. On Saturday, our colleague and friend Dana opened up her beautiful garden for the children to search for cleverly hidden treats. It took some time for even the older ones to find all of the eggs, which meant there were a few minutes here and there available for grown up to appreciate the lovely spring day and good companionship as well…
Easter morning was celebrated with the neighborhood egg hunt. Parents stash eggs in a meadow nearby, a dozen per child, and then kids are let loose at 9:00. The toddlers get a few minutes lead, thank goodness, as the hunt gets pretty intense once the whole crowd is involved. Peter focused quite intently on the task at hand, and (ahem) may have collected a couple more than the official dozen. Sammy did well, too, greatly assisted by the kindly angel in the form of Charles' and Jenny's oldest daughter, Meg, who kept an eye out for the little ones and placed treats in their paths.
The last egg hunt (so far) was orchestrated by Peter, who wanted his own turn at being the one to hide eggs. He and I tucked eggs in and around our backyard, with Peter delighting equally in figuring out unusual places to place eggs and complementing me on my own stratagems. Since Sammy was still taking his nap, it fell to Alan to hunt for the eggs, which he did with great good humor.
(Hopefully, pictures will follow...)
Opposites
Peter has been having a great time lately with listing all kinds of opposites. One he came up with this evening particularly tickled me: "work" and "death." Don't ask me where that came from, or if even he quite understood what he saying. All I know is that Omama would approve.
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