Archive for January 2014

Of our library hauls, favourites have included Dear Zoo (Rod Campbell) and most of Taro Gomi’s work. You enjoy lift-the-flap books, like Where’s Spot? You cry, “Oh no!” in response to an illustrated sad face (you lamented theatrically through all of Madeline).

Yeah, she reads 400-page novels too ...

Yeah, she reads 400-page novels too, strange child.

In fact you partially read along with me; you remember and anticipate the words. This “co-reading” works especially well for rhyming text – you’ll gleefully fill in the last rhyming syllables of each line.

Co-singing is even better! It works the same way: I start off each line and you supply the last word. This came about after I watched Frozen with a friend and came home singing “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?”

S: We used to be best –
S: But now we’re –
A: Not!
S: I wish you would tell me –
S: Do you wanna build a –
A: Snowman!

In early December we all went to see a hip hop dance studio production. It was a spur-of-the-moment deal; a colleague had tickets for his son’s show. I was afraid you’d be overtired, but you loved it, and watched as intently as daddy and I did. More, perhaps, because unlike us you were dancing in your seat.

Cozy Christmas morning.

Cozy Christmas morning.

I kind of dread cooking with you underfoot, because you are perpetually underfoot. Wanting up, wanting to see, wanting neh neh, wanting all three of the above at the same time. And wanting to help. If I haven’t yet been worn threadbare, I’ll let you spoon in seasoning and stir. One day you will cook for me, or so I persuade myself.

The way you pronounce mushroom … sounds very much like “man boob.”

You’re an enthusiastic sharer, to our delight and chagrin. Delight, because you offer so nicely! “Want one?” Chagrin, because you refuse to take no for an answer, and will continue to insist: “Want one?? WANT ONE?!”

Requisite "I dressed up so you'd better take a dang picture" shot.

Requisite “I dressed up so you’d better take a dang picture” shot.

Suddenly, after a single evening with grandma, you’re able to count to ten in Mandarin. Although you tend to miss si (four). You like to recite them while lying supine on the floor, doing leg raises.

This Christmas you decided that you aren’t a fan of Santa, at least up close. (You’re oddly fascinated from a distance.) “Scared [of] Santas!” you tell me, gesticulating wildly, often in the middle of something completely unrelated. “Weird!” HAHA.