Two-Wheelers

So it was Z's 4th birthday on the 23rd. We had a big party at H Street Country Club with all the kids from the block, and some alumni from THPS. Great time was had by everyone, adults included. Miniature golf, piñatas, quesadillas...

We came back to the house with Z's booty, and after she'd opened all her gifts (me furiously writing down descriptions and giver's names on the big easel), I went out to the shed, and brought her new bike in, covered in a tarpaulin.

"Hey sweetheart! What's that big thing over there? There's a tarp--it looks like there's something underneath it."

She came over, and pulled the cover off, and..."HEY! IT'S A BIKE!!!"

She sat on it, fell over, got back on it. Walked it around the living room. I promised we'd spend the next morning riding it.

Anyway, the next morning, we threw the bike in the trunk, and headed out to the Arboretum. Unloaded everything at the top of a slight rise, strapped on Z's helmet, she sat down on it, and off she went--just like on the balance bike. The biggest problem was that she caught her Achilles Heel with the pedal a few times while using her feet to stop.

Ten minutes later, she had her feet up on the pedals, pedaling while I gave her a "assist" with a couple of fingers to the lower back. We found a nice circuit to ride around, with a slight downhill on one side, then a long straightaway, followed by a short uphill, long straightaway, then back to the downhill again. The first time through the corner at the bottom of the downhill it was all concentration. Then she cried, elated, "I'm going soo FAST!". Then the third time she yells, "I'm Lightning McQueen!"

The fourth time, the front end started to wobble a bit, she overcompensated, and...CRASH...down she goes, face-first into the pavement.

Seconds later, she's sobbing, face a mask of pain and disappointment. Tears streaming down. She holds out her right hand--road rash covering her knuckles. "Owwwwww!!!"

So we sat together on the side of the road, her tiny body wracked by sobs. Me trying to say comforting things. Also thinking, "she's never getting back on that thing after that." After a few minutes, she pulled herself together, and said, "I want to go over to the castle" which is the hilltop with the old columns from the Capitol building before it was razed in 1812.

"Ok, do you want to walk?"

"I'm going to ride my bike!" like I was being an idiot.

Says a lot about me, but I think I was more proud of her then than I was the day she first walked. She really is a persistent little bugger.

On Monday, she rode all the way to school, no assists from me. When we got there, she sizes up a seven year old on a race-car themed bike, looks him in the eye and says, rather pointedly "I don't have any training wheels."

Ok, next lesson: On Not Gloating...

"Excuse, please!"

My favorite new thing is how, when Ms Z disagrees with you (and she's well-fed, and rested) she'll burst out with, "No, no! Mama, excuse me please..."

Like she's a recent immigrant from some exotic, better country.

On Chickens And Baseball

We rode our bikes over to the baseball stadium and had a blast. Took about 10 minutes to get there, and they had a "bike valet". After the game, we alll stood in line because they let kids 4-12 run the bases before they close up the field. We fudged Z's age and she actually ran the damn bases all by herself on that huge field. Very Impressive.

S asked her how it was, and she said: "I was a little scared. I was running so fast, I didn't even know what was going on. I think there was a man in a chicken suit yelling at me to run."

S said, "I think that was an eagle."

Z: "No, I'm pretty sure it was a chicken."

On Second Thoughts

Talking about bedrooms while looking at the Ikea catalog. Z says she wants a pirate bedroom. S asks, "How about a *shark* room?!?"

Hard-face comes crashing down. "Noooooooo!"

"Oh! Wait...YEAH!"

Sad Song

Made some popcorn, and broke out my & Z's guitars. Started playing her preschool graduation song ("Working on the Railroad"). She gets agitated. "Excuse me! Can you stop?". She wants to make up a song, so she says, "It goes like 'Adios amigos. We'll see you later.". So I start playing some random minor key progression, knit my brows and start singing. She looks vaguely concerned, "Is this a sad song?"

I say, I suppose so, and start playing again, really hamming it up this time. Suddenly, I hear sobs. She's crying uncontrollably.

I pick her up and hug her, patting her back. "It's okay, it's okay. Let's sing a happy song..."

"About popcorn."

We agree.

Old Song

S & I just reminiscing about Z, and a trip at age two in Colorado. She was talking, and was able to put together simple sentences. We were all driving back from Monarch Pass when suddenly she blurted out a long elaborate string of syllables. She kept repeating it for about an hour. Couldn't make out exactly what it was, and it sounded almost like she was channelling Homer. We kept making wild guesses at what this cryptic poem meant. Finally, I asked, "Are you saying 'Up is the sky / Down is the earth / Here are my friends / Happy lunch'?"

"La."

Reimagining her future

Ian and I were driving out to Amy and Alexei's new place in Del Ray when Zola noticed some scaffolding near the highway. She asked what it was for and I explained that it was likely for the people who were working on fixing the highway. Before that day, she would often preface her remarks about the future with, "When I'm a big mama ...".

This time, she asked a bunch of questions about different jobs that people have. Then she asked me which jobs I've had. I described a few of them.

Zola then said very firmly, "I think I'd like to have some different jobs before I am a mama!"

Unusual pick-up line

Zola at Ryan's birthday: Ryan, you have the warmest legs.

Swimming with the sharks

Zola at bedtime: Mama, you can't leave.

Me: Why not?

Zola: Because my fishy bed is a boat and the water below us has sharks in it.

Me: Oh, no! Well, thanks for warning me. I promise to be very careful.

Zola: No, Mama! It's very sharky!

Cahoots

Zola, sitting at dinner table, laughing: Mama, hey, Mama!

Me: Yes, Zola?

Zola: You know what? Doc Hudson and Sally are in cahoots!

-- repeated throughout dinner, with Zola laughing harder each time --

I'm a liberal, too!

Zola on the way home from school: Mama, does everybody like Obama?

Me: No.

Zola: Why not?

Me: Well, that's a good question. Politics are funny. It is all about people's belief systems and what they value. So while one person may not like the President, another person really will.
[Pause]
Me con't: Some people are conservative and some are liberal.

Zola: Are you a liberal?

Me: Yes, I am.

Zola: Me, too! I'm a liberal, Mama!

Moon Shadow

Ms Z scared by CD player freakout following a short power surge. After calming her down, I lean over to give her a kiss, and she puts her arm around me when I try to leave. "Oh, thanks. Are you giving me a hug?" "No, that's for me. You'll break my arms if you try to leave."

Finally I tell her I have to go. Ms Z says in a jovial sort of way, "If the CD player gets confused again, I'll come and get you."

============

Earlier, we were driving home from D's house and passed Catholic U's massive cathedral. Ms Z said, "Oh, Papa, look at that! I *do* want to get married. I want to get married there!"

Marriage Means Goodbye

Papa, I want to marry you!

Me, well, someday you'll find someone you love and you marry them.

But I want to marry you.

Well,I'm already married to Momma.

But I don't want to leave!

Oh, no. You don't *have* to get married. You can live with momma and I forever. And if you move out, you can come back. That's what being a family means.




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Thoughts About 'Discipline'

What do you do if she is throwing a tantrum at a store because she wants something or she touches a certain object over and over again even though you keep telling her that she shouldn't. I'm the one with the 1 year old son. I'm asking to learn, not to judge.

You know, the strange thing is, as "willful" as she is, we rarely have to deal with her throwing a tantrum in the store. Usually she's too busy with little tasks like putting fruit in bags, or keeping an eye out for some product to throw tantrums at the grocery store...

Some part of this is because we've never actually allowed her to have anything "impromptu" from the store. She knows we get what's on the list and nothing more. On the rare occasions she's asked for X, I ask her if she has enough money. Since she's 3, she usually doesn't. She gets mildly upset, and I say gently, "That's too bad. We'll have to try to remember to bring your money next time." or "You'll have to keep saving your money; maybe next time you'll have enough to buy it." Or whatever. We've been *very* consistent about no meaning no over the first years of her life.

The times she's thrown a tantrum elsewhere--for whatever reason--I usually pick her up and take her elsewhere (I'd take her out to the car, sit down tell her we'd go back when she thinks she can be helpful, turn on the radio, etc...) while letting her know I understand she's upset.

I think for some of this the hard part is *ignoring* your intuition... which will tell you that your kid's not giving you the obedience and props you deserve as a parent. The thing to keep in mind is that small children are *insane*. Given time, they get better at coping, at being rational creatures. It's about managing your own expectations as to what they're capable of, not about you getting your respect. Treat them the same way you'd treat a parent if she were suffering from Alzheimer's: with respect and gentleness, but firmness.

Hell, it should be a lot easier to treat your child that way since you know their condition's going to improve, not degenerate.

The Big Sleep

As the party's winding down, Ms Z pulls me aside and calmly says, "I don't want to die, Papa. Papa, I don't want to die."

Picture of the Future

Ms Z: Papa? I grew up in DC.
Me: Um, that's right, honey.
Ms Z: When I'm a Momma, I'm going to be very tall. I'm going to bump my head on the ceiling.
Me: I know you will. [Turning off light] G'night honey, I love you.
Ms Z: I'm not ever going to change.
Me: Um....what?
Ms Z: I'm not going to change, Papa.
Me: G'night, honey. I love you very much.

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Gallery Going

Tip when visiting art galleries with small children: museum curators tend to place the lighting with the intention of creating maximum glare for anyone under 4' tall. I noticed this when we were standing in front of the "ice skater" painting at the Nat'l Gallery with Zola. She made some comment, and I knelt down next to her to hear, and looking up at the painting saw nothing but glare.

So I picked her up, and put her on my hip, and we looked together.

"Why does he have that expression?" says the 3-year-old.