Me too!

Me too! I'll help!
Like magic, Daddy can mix
two loaves of bread without
even giving his hands dirty.

Poor Elise. The lost, ignored, neglected second child. The mere shadow of her big sister. Not so! The "me too" epidemic has set in: Elise will be included in everything Kalina does, or explode in her enthusiastic endeavors to do so. It's really cute.

"We went fishing the other day," I'll mention to a friend. "Me too!!!" insists Elise. Holding up one figure, she tells us that she touched the fish, and then cries a little and points out the door to let us know that Daddy was along too, but has since disappeared (assuming Daddy's at work at the time).

 Kalina's kittens are packing a suitcase to go on vacation. "Me too!!!" insists Elise, barreling over to me. Don't worry, Sweetie, we won't leave you behind when we take our family trip!

Other times, when we happen to be talking about trikes or painting or playgrounds, Elise will drop everything to come charging into the room and let us know, through various exclamations and vigorous pats on her own tummy, that she has been/will be participating.

Me too! I want to sit on a frog, too!

Sometimes, we see this simply in the form of copycatting. Kalina is twirling around the room with a stuffed animal on her head, and Elise dives for her stuffed bear to do the same. Kalina is coloring with markers, so Elise grabs her own piece of paper, and expertly uncaps a marker to join in. Or less desirable, Kalina is patiently and effectively teaching Elise to climb up the stairs on the wrong side of the railing, so Elise readily learns, much to Mommy's dismay, which probably sounded too much like this: "Oops. Kalina, wow, what a great job of teaching you did! Um, Elise probably shouldn't do that, it's really not safe. Let's all go play with blocks."

Kalina brave enough to ride
her coveted puffin, which
goes up and down!

Kalina more often than not seems proud of her mini-entourage, and is happy to include Elise among Lamby and Dolphin and the farm animals. Or at other times, she's blessedly oblivious. They've worked out an arrangement, it seems, in that Kalina is willing to play with Elise, as long as they do mostly what Kalina wants to and Elise follows orders. Elise seems willing to follow orders as long as she can be included in her big sister's amazing adventures (usually involving kittens, and sometimes flying). 

Me too! I'll ride the carousel!

I know that this means Elise is getting more independent and more aware of her world all the time. And, in fact, maybe I can use this to my advantage when it comes to potty training. But it does get difficult to continually break the news to Elise that she won't be going to preschool for at least another year (and besides, she'd still freak out when I left), she hasn't yet developed her sister's skill and self control that would enable her to open all the pots of paint at the same time, and she definitely may not be allowed to run loose in the grocery store yet, no matter how much she promises she'll walk nicely and helpfully like Kalina does.

Fortunately, Kalina understands at greater than her 3 1/2-year-old level, when she's well-rested, at least, that some activities are for doing during Elise's naptime, only. She's happy to help me distract Elise ("Bubbles! Goose! Duck!" she calls out--three of the littler girl's favorite things), and patiently endures the recent development of the tantrum.

Still wearing the Easter hat.
We're always the talk of the
playground in this one.

And Elise's skills and intellect are advanced enough that she really can keep up with Kalina, as long as they're not holding a footrace or an oratory competition. Now if I could only keep up with the two of them!

Easter! Eggs! Excellent.

If you ask Elise what Easter's all about, she'll drag you over to our much acclaimed tray of plastic eggs, point emphatically and tell you, "Eesh! Eesh!" Then she'll point outside, stabbing at the air to represent a variety of different hiding places, and finally she'll point to her feet to indicate her need for shoes in order to be prepared to go find these treasures. If you allow this act to continue, you'll soon find yourself outside with an enthusiastic toddler and a tray full of plastic eggs, trekking all over the yard. This, apparently, is Easter.

If you ask Kalina, she'll probably explain how one kitten is helping another put on an Easter dress, while a third is sitting quietly in church and a fourth is dying Easter eggs for a fifth to play with. Or something. But she does know the rest of the story. Breaking it to her was hard, and she almost cried when she learned that Jesus died, and didn't quite see how being raised back to life solved the world's problems, but she'll process it over time in her own way. In fact, her gray stuffed kitten died recently, but I'm happy to report it came back to life shortly thereafter.

But no matter which girl you ask, you'll be assured that Easter was wonderful--whether in Elise's wide-eyed, emphatic enthusiasm that needs no words to communicate its depth, or in Kalina's stream of play-by-play detailing how her animals celebrated the season.

The three techniques in action.

Chocolate bunnies aside, the holiday was made much more exciting by the arrival of Grandpa, Uncle Tom and Angela, whose birthday we also celebrated (not to mention the fact that Grandpa closed on a house here this week--celebrations all around!).

On Saturday morning, we dyed Easter eggs. Elise, Kalina and Uncle Tom were the eager workers, and each had their own particular style.

Elise, who had never seen such a thing but thought it sounded just great. She eagerly adopted the idea, grabbed one egg after the other, dropping and cracking them on the table (accidentally) before placing them into a cup of dye. She worked quickly and intently, and probably would've kept going all morning if only we'd had enough eggs. But none of this without eating one first. The final product wasn't nearly as interesting to Elise as the process, although I have a feeling that will change in future dying episodes.

Kalina, an old pro at this, dyed many beautiful eggs, and cracked hardly any at all, before deciding to create some "fancy" eggs like Uncle Tom. These special eggs of Kalina's are carefully dyed and redyed, from only the most select colors, until they each become their own special shade of brownish-something. Brownish-green, brownish-purple, brownish-orange, you name it. Other fancy eggs would get a scribble from a wax crayon before the dying treatment. The most elaborate/garish were her favorite, and she enjoyed letting her inner artist shine as she confidently decorated each egg to the utmost of its potential.

It's just not as fun if you can't
eat the eggs.

Uncle Tom patiently and artistically dyed three lovely fancy eggs, and cringed visibly every time another of Kalina's beautiful creations was plopped into the mud-green dye cup that used to be sunshine yellow. He later admitted, though, that her techniques had produced some unusually striking eggs. Some of which weren't, actually, as brownish as you'd think, considering they'd made the circuit from teal to orange to purple to pink to red to mud-green and back again. Mommy thought they were quite beautiful, in fact.

The next morning was Easter! Kalina made sure to greet everyone in the house, which was a lot of people, with a delighted, "Happy Easter!" We had not, however, talked much about the Easter Bunny and Easter baskets, so all she knew was that she'd get to wear her special Easter dress to church, and that there would be treats sometime during the day.

In fact, treats started early: Grandpa had a special present for each girl. For Elise, it was a bunny not unlike those in the children's museum that she loves to carry around. It's been tucked under Elise's arm pretty much ever since. For Kalina, it was her own copy of an Easter library book that she'd loved and I accidentally returned too soon. Oops!

We'd chosen the early service (9:00) so that we could get back in time for Easter baskets and dinner before Uncle Tom and Angela had to take off. I forgot: to put the ham in the oven, to change Elise's diaper, and to put the girls in their cute Easter hats (which Elise still likes to wear as often as possible). Two of those were easily remedied by turning the car around in the plenty of time I'd allowed before church, but the hats remained forgotten. Oh well.

Pleased with her conquest:
a peepy chick Elise has
been coveting for months.

Both kids behaved wonderfully at church, thanks to snacks and probably being a bit tired from all the activity. A few family photos later, and we were ready to go in and see if the Easter bunny had, indeed, visited.

Yup! Elise found her basket all too quickly in the shopping cart, and was soon hugging the peepy chick in it. Kalina found hers with a little help (and lots of practice from Hide the Thimble with Grandpa), and dug out a stuffed rabbit ("Can the Easter bunny sew, Mommy?" Um....).

Kalina most likely expected to keep the Easter bunny in a cage, and feed it carrots, and all that (she asked if it was still in our house), but couldn't be disappointed for long after uncovering her basket.

Always focused on animals, of which there were several in the basket, and never having been exposed to much candy, it took a while (and some prodding) for Kalina to discover that the plastic eggs that shake contained candy. She carefully sampled one jelly bean, or chocolate egg, or whatnot, from each one before asking me nicely if she could have another. I let her, of course. You would've, too.

Elise immediately caught on to the fact that the shaky eggs held treats. Distracting her tender eyes from the view of Kalina's delicacies, we helped her open up animal crackers, dried cranberries, and the like, which she devoured without thinking of asking permission. I let her. It was only later that she discovered Kalina's stash, and fortunately the bigger girl wasn't around to see me sneak Elise a tiny robin's egg.

Then, the girls played with their bunnies and a few other treasures, but mostly with the fake grass from their baskets.

Easter dinner! Ham, veggie sides, rolls, a special lemon jello salad! And the girls ate: rolls. But at least they enjoyed them.

Kalina passed this by the first
time around. A chocolate
rabbit!

After naptime/downtime, which lasted a blessedly long time, we welcomed some friends for a big Easter egg hunt in our yard. "Eesh, Eesh!" Elise exclaimed, and then dashed off to get her shoes. Kalina, still suffering the effects of having only eaten a roll for lunch, but refusing any food but candy (which wasn't an option at this point) dragged behind. She perked up, nonetheless, as she expertly dashed around the yard, schooling the two one-year-olds and one two-year-old at finding hidden eggs.

Notice the bunny ears: plastic
bunny loves to ride in the
Easter basket.

Kind-hearted soul that Kalina is, though, she was readily convinced to slow down and help the other girls find eggs. She turned her attention to pointing Elise and Lucy (age 2) within one inch of several hidden eggs, before abandoning the hunt altogether and dashing off toward her coveted swingset swing, to the frustrated dismay of Elise who is always, always the last one to get there and therefore never the first to swing.

Elise and Lucy stuck it out a bit longer, however (the other 1-year-old was still too little), and then we took a few impromptu pictures of the girls. Lucy was the first to figure out that the shaky eggs contained candy, and Elise eventually caught on. Then Kalina did, but by then most of the jelly beans had disappeared. Each girl methodically shook the rest of the eggs, just in case, and we headed inside to play when no more treats were to be found.

Sometimes I feel like a
charging station.

And then once our guests left, the girls fixed themselves dinner, tidied up the family room and headed off to bed with a cheerful wave in our direction. Not really, but somehow we weary adults made it through until we could consider Easter celebrated and traditions passed down for one more year.

Here's hoping every Easter finds us this blessed, by good company and good fun in addition to the good news of Jesus, our living hope.

Sweet spring (and pediatrician visit!)

We had an informal photo shoot!

We recently endured Elise's 18-month pediatrician appointment, but I forgot to bring home her information sheet and it was mostly a normal visit, so after a brief run-down, we'll talk about how much fun it is to have a toddler (and a 3 1/2-year-old) in the springtime.

It's funny how despite the fact that there were no shots at Elise's appointment, because the doctor recognizes that kids start to develop a memory at this age, the child managed to hate it anyway. I don't think there's any getting around the fact that doctors are scary, and nurses are sometimes worse. Kalina will learn this anew at her 4-year-old checkup, where she'll be tested unnecessarily for tuberculosis ("But it's not a shot!" the doctor will insist, to no avail.). *sigh*

Elise's first fishing trip! She got
distracted by the playground and
caught nothing.

Anyway, Elise hated being weighed and measured, hated having her tummy prodded, but didn't mind too much having her heartbeat checked. Everything was fine: she's in the 75th percentile for height, and up to the 25th for weight, which the doctor congratulated me on. Her head circumference is in the 50th.

Despite two blood draws and comments about Elise's glowing health, the doctor wants to extract some more to keep testing her iron. Her levels were low, and hadn't improved into the middle of the normal category, only the lower end of it. Matt's theory: the doctor is seeing her as a pincushion that can pad her wallet. My theory: leukemia. Why are we always at such extremes? Elise is fine.

The doctor was duly astonished that Elise seems to be recognizing some colors, and that she'd invented her own sign language and was pairing words and ideas with it. For instance, every morning at breakfast:

The neighbor girl helped Kalina
strip the bush almost clean of blooms.
Then, Kalina brought them inside
to be my pets. I was required to water
them every day.

Elise points to a finger-painted picture behind her. "Uh!"
Me: Who made that picture?
Elise: "Deh!" (Proudly pointing at herself.) Then she holds up one finger.
Me: With your finger?
Elise: Smiles and nods. Then pats her tray.
Me: Sitting at your high chair?
Elise: More proud smiles and nods.

She's used the same techniques to regale me with stories about riding the trike (with a helmet!) and how much she misses Daddy while he's at work.

In short, Elise is healthy and bright. She's also enjoying spring, as is Kalina, as is Matt, as am I. Here's how:

When you're 18 months old, life is magical. You wave "bye-bye" to merry-go-rounds, garbage cans and delivery trucks. You can make some amazing sounds with your mouth, and jump quite well and are learning to gallop. Your cheeks are delightfully chubby, and you can fit into any shoes on the rug. Add to this the magic of spring, and life has never been better.


The weather has been so glorious lately that the house is a mess and dinner is always late: we never stay in long enough to take care of our mundane tasks. How can we, when there are flowering bushes to strip free of their blooms (thank goodness we left town for a couple days or else the poor thing wouldn't have a chance at pollination), and yards to run across just for the sake of running, and swings to actually swing in.

That's right: both girls swing now, for just about the first time ever. However, there are rules: don't push Kalina more than a fraction of an inch, and don't imagine that Elise would prefer a baby swing to a big-girl version. As Matt figured out without me around one day to disallow him from doing so, Elise sits nicely all by herself in a real swing, even with some mild pushes, even from her big sister as she patiently waits for her own turn. In fact, she loves it. So much that it's a problem we only have one swing. Who would've guessed?


Kalina has joined the ranks of kids who could swing all day, albeit her feet hardly leave the ground. She's learned a fairly effective type of kick-pump, and sings made-up songs about swinging and shadows and rainbows, and usually clutches a kitten or two, and often wears dresses, and once pigtails, and is humanity's zenith of cuteness with the exception, of course, of a certain 18-month-old learning to gallop.

Look! Pigtails! And real
bubbles!

Every time we venture outside, whether to throw out the garbage or head to Target or play, Elise heads for the bubble bucket, hauls it out, and begins blowing. Lots of practice has rendered her only one or two mouthfuls of bubble fluid (every child has to ingest a certain amount before they figure it out), but lots of successful bubbles. We've discovered that they stick around longer on the grass than the pavement, and that they're marvelously fun to pop with the touch of a finger. Kalina has known this a while, but as I couldn't find bubble fluid last fall, this is Elise's first real bubble season.

Elise insists on a hat even for
indoor gardening. And wearing
her sister's shorts over her own.

We've also been gardening, both for real and pretend. As Matt helped the girls plant seeds, water them, and all that (Kalina knows better than I do), I initiated an indoor craft garden effort that was almost as well received. Now, the girls can dig, water and extract flowers and vegetables indoors and out, all of which we do on a regular basis. Both are working on blowing the seeds off dandelions, with Elise using a vigorous wave as her best strategy, and Kalina honing her force and her aim, and the force of her aim.

Easter egg hunting!

Beyond that, we've been enjoying the neighbors and their kids and their yards. We're so fortunate as to have half a dozen girls roughly Kalina's age living within a few stones' throws of our front door--and a couple even next door. She's now old enough to be thrilled with all of her playmates--even if she's not quite caught on to the idea of actually playing together. Springtime has brought everyone out of doors, which means lots of running back and forth between yards (for Kalina, that must means to our next-door neighbor's) and impromptu games of tag. And then I brought out a wagonful of Easter eggs (a week and a half early), and half the neighborhood, it seemed, joined in to hide and hunt. While Elise loves watching the kids (and finding an Easter egg or two of her own) and covets the neighbor's swingset, she hasn't yet joined in the fray. 

The little line on Kalina's hand
is her caterpillar.

And finally, yesterday afternoon we welcomed into the family two new pets: Hungry and Pet the caterpillars. (Actually, these are our second set of caterpillars: the first Hungry and Pet were squished nearly beyond recognition as Kalina toured them around the yard.) She caught them herself, expertly, as her daddy had taught her. But as he was not yet home from work, it fell to met to agree she could keep them, find a jar and help her outfit it with items from their natural environment to help them feel more at home, despite the fact that they will never again escape the lingering smell of spaghetti sauce. It was also my job to locate and sneak two new, live caterpillars into the jar, while attempting to discard the carcasses of the first two, while sending Kalina off to look for "more leaves, we need more leaves."

For the rest of the evening, Kalina paraded her caterpillars around: they joined us at dinner and slept on her nightstand. She held one while Daddy carefully poked holes in the lid, and carried it all around the yard while they enjoyed some pre-bedtime playtime. 

I have no idea what will become of the caterpillars in the next few days and weeks, I can only hope there's a rather endless supply of them near the swingset where we found the first four, as I have a feeling we may need them.

I will admit that I could use a rainy day or two to catch up on housework, errands, and all the rest. But until then, I'll simply enjoy our beautiful spring days with my two beautiful springy girls. 

Adventures with Two: Road Trip

Somehow, the kids lined
themselves up for this shot.
Notice all the pink and white
polka dots!

The craziness in our house has started to subside. The girls have settled nicely into 1 1/2 and 3 1/2. They sleep, and are no longer sick all the time. The edges of rubbed off of the sibling relationship, for now, anyway. They're eating their veggies. And they both seem to know they need to hold my hand in parking lots. We can all paint together, and other fun things. And the newness of the move has worn off, so we all feel plenty settled.

When life gives me moments of relative peace, after a short (too short?) rest, I generally feel the need to disturb it. Sometimes this means taking on massive sewing projects, or freezing meals. But this time, it meant embarking a road trip with the girls to visit my good friend Sara.

I chose my destination well: not only is Sara a good friend, but I knew her house would be stocked and kid-friendly to the utmost, as she's Mommy to Ethan (4) and Lilly (nearly 2). If I could simply survive the 3-hour drive and convince the girls to sleep while they're there, I could forget anything at home and I'd be fine. 

Slowly unfolding ourselves from our
car-riding positions.

Most of what I packed, therefore, fit into the category of road entertainment. My passenger seat, when we set off, was therefore littered with books, CDs, toys, surprise toys, a DVD player for emergencies and the tastiest of snacks, all meant to keep the crying down from the backseat.

As such, the drive was as uneventful as I'd hoped and we were rewarded for our 3+ cramped hours with a large yard to play in, beautiful weather, and good friends. The kids immediately hit it off, and Sara and I began the process of catching up.

Once inside the house, both girls were enthralled with their new surroundings. Kalina couldn't have been happier to see an air mattress just for her, nor could she resist giving it a few test bounces (as did the other kids). Elise was not as happy to see the crib I told her she'd be sleeping in, but later did consent to give it a few test bounces of her own.

We played, we had dinner, we played some more. By this time, Kalina had grown tired of her "big brother's" tendencies to want to play with her stuffed animals, and had claimed the guest room as her own. We let her: it's tough to be a 3-year-old guest (although good-natured Ethan certainly meant no harm!). She made sure all of her animals--she'd narrowed her stash down to six kittens, Lamby, Sleep Penguin and little Farmyard Cow for the trip--were comfortable and that none of them were too nervous about her surroundings. Elise, meanwhile, dug into all the toys and carefully observed and imitated the bigger kids.

Bedtime, admittedly, made me nervous. As expected, Elise cried hysterically when placed in the crib. After some soothing on Kalina's and my part, however, she drifted off and was barely heard from until 7:00 the next morning.

Kalina, however, was another story. After falling asleep rather nicely in the guest room that we shared, she apparently got confused in the middle of the night and thought that 11:52 p.m. was close enough to morning to begin playing. She dragged her sleeping bag off of her air mattress, lined up her kittens, and began sweetly whispering to them. Twenty minutes later, she still was--and at this point, convinced she wouldn't go back to sleep on her own, I somewhat guiltily, and very gently, intervened (after all, she was playing so sweetly!).

Look, we're all playing together!

I don't know if she was simply surprised by the fact that I was in the same room as her (even though I'd told her multiple times) or if maybe she had actually been sleep-playing and I'd woken her up, but lots of tears and yawns ensued, poor thing. We snuggled her into her bed again, and she fell back asleep much sooner than I did.

I was awakened by a happy 3-year-old staring me in the face at 6:45--perfection! The morning brought a flurry of activity as Sara and I worked to get four kids dressed, washed, brushed, fed, etc. 

Then, much to my surprise and joy, I was able to leave a content Elise under the watchful eye of Sara while I showered. This might not come across as revolutionary to those of you who haven't dealt with the intense stranger/separation anxiety of my kids, but it was a really big deal to me. I'm trying to decide whether to attribute it to Elise growing out of her anxieties or a sixth sense about Sara. 

After a short preschool conference for Ethan, we headed to a riverfront park. The day was beautiful and the kids were excited. We did swings and slides and lots of climbing before taking a short walk along the river. It was cute to watch the kids enjoy being together, sometimes to their delight, and sometimes to their irritation--but it was all good.

Then we treated ourselves and the kids to McDonald's. As we were on a trip, I let Kalina order chocolate milk. Both received Happy Meals, as the toy was a My Little Pony with a comb. I can't imagine a better fit, and to only let Kalina have one would be cruel. However, please don't anyone tell Kalina that our home McDonald's has Happy Meals and chocolate milk, or I'll be relegated to saying, "No, not now," every time we drive by.

After lunch and a little grimy playtime, we made a beeline for home and naps. Both of mine settled fairly happily for 2-hour naps. Hooray!

The afternoon was gorgeous, but before we went out to play again, we let the kids paint and play-doh. Preschool style, I manned the Play-doh table while Sara supervised painting. We let the big ones paint first, then the little ones paint over what the big ones had painted (no one minded)

While all the children enjoyed making masterpieces, I was impressed by Elise's painting stamina. Although occasionally she'd wander off with the paintbrush, the task held her interest and she'd always return. She managed to keep most of the paint on the paper, and good-naturedly watched while Lilly "helped" her with her picture.

Elise in her paint shirt
examining Lilly's work.

When we went out to play with sidewalk chalk, Elise again impressed us with her coloring capabilities. This time, the palette was herself--she enjoyed sitting in the chalk bin. Who wouldn't? Most of the rest of the kids followed suit, and Sara will forever be dealing with this annoying new habit. Sorry!

By this time, Kalina was bemoaning the fact that we had to go home the next day. "I want to stay here forever!" she'd say, or, "I wish they lived next door to us!" Sara promised to come visit, and that helped.

We pulled some dinner together while Ethan goofed around at the table and Kalina laughed, and Lilly wandered around while Elise followed her for a few games of peekaboo and toddler chase (which is like a slow-motion version of tag, with no winner and no loser and only cuteness).

Ethan did a great job of showing Kalina
how to play, and making sure everyone
did everything right. A very helpful
4-year-old!

Afterward, we decided to try Candyland. Kalina had never played, but caught on quickly, only occasionally moving the wrong direction. However, our fun was short-lived--the younger siblings were neither content to pursue other activities nor capable of joining in without ruining everything, plus the older ones found it hard to concentrate. Sara and I may have been able to finish the game, but what's the point? We headed down to the playroom instead.

As Ethan and Lilly enjoyed their bath, Kalina wondered when we were going to finish the game. With one curious toddler being easier to manage than two, we were able to start over. A careful stacking of the deck sent the bigger girl forwards and backwards and, finally, rocketing to the Candy Castle in first place. Kalina won, can you believe it?!

After an uneventful evening, we were ready for more fun the next morning. But first, a trip to Kohl's--all our kids needed summer shoes and Sara had a coupon.

I do feel that there's a conspiracy regarding children's shoes, and especially my kids. If I don't purchase sandals in January and snowboots in July, they will run out of our sizes. What's more, while most girls' sandals are undeniably cute, their tread often resembles a linoleum floor. Would you want your still occasionally accident-prone little girl climbing playground equipment with shoes like that? Neither would I. Of the two styles that seemed reasonable for actual everyday play, we managed to find, after much digging, exactly one pair in Kalina's size. Elise has none, with no good prospects in sight. (She will be wearing size 6 this summer, in case anyone sees any Carter's summer sandals at Kohl's and wants to pick them up for me--I will pay you their weight in gold.)

It's hard to get a really good picture in a
dark, active gym. This one at least
has all four kids in it.

Then, for our final activity of the trip, we headed to a gymnastics gym for open play. Although both girls had wilted after our Kohl's excursion, they perked up mightily at the squishy mats, rings, trampolines, hula hoops and more. Both seemed to know exactly what to do. I hardly heard from Kalina for a full 20 minutes as she tested everything out. Elise, who refused to take off her socks, needed a little extra supervision. I sorely regretted bouncing on the trampoline with her for so long (when...will...the...floor...stop...bouncing...?), but she loved every moment, and who can argue with that smile? Eventually she learned to bounce on her own. After a solid 45 minutes of rambunctious play, I knew I could count on at least one nap on the way home.

And finally, it was time for our sad goodbyes. "But I'll miss them!" Kalina protested (as did I!). The parting was sweetened by the fact that Sara had packed copious amounts of their favorite veggie chips in lunches for us, and the girls covered their sorrows in crunchy snacks on the way home. Elise fell asleep before we'd made it out of town, and Kalina happily chattered about kittens, considerately whispering for the full hour that Elise slept.

I'd packed half a dozen new, or newish, little toys for the trip and had prided myself that I had only pulled out one for each girl on the way in. But the return trip was, well, a return trip. We were all tired and antsy, and rush hour traffic on our way into town didn't help. And so, within 20 minutes of home, three more toys for each were handed out in quick succession, with inquiries for more being called out toward the general direction of the front seat even as we pulled into the driveway. I considered unloading the car before unloading the kids, but thought it unfair: instead, I convinced a whiny (tired) Kalina to introduce her Happy Meal My Little Pony to all of the animals in her room, and the girl emerged 45 minutes later much happier and asking for a snack (I knew she would--Kalina's animal-filled room always cheers her up!). Elise was mostly content to wander the house and re-discover all her toys.

One of the best parts of the trip, besides catching up with Sara and adventuring with my kids, was  watching all the children interact. The two toddlers sat side by side brushing teeth with duplicate toothbrushes (Sara and I both shop at Target), and the older kids overcame their frustrations ("He keeps coming into my room!"/"She won't let me come into the room!") to giggle at each other and occasionally play together. I agree with Kalina: I wish they lived next door.

What have we learned?

Look! Kalina "reading" to Elise
on her lap!

We've recently discovered that Kalina is a rather abstract thinker. Looking back, we've known this for quite some time (after all, we've spent much of the last 3 1/2 years conversing with blocks instead of stacking them). But there's just something about an official personality description from a real book Matt recently finished that drives the point home.

Abstract thinking informs much of what Kalina does. And although she's very concrete about the precise way in which Lamby and Rudolph must be bathed before their bedtime, she'll also toss them into an imaginary dryer when they're finished and reassure them that no raccoons will come into the room in the middle of the night.

Of course, the last thing I want to do is pigeonhole Kalina at such a tender age. And all young kids tend toward the abstract--just look at their artwork. But understanding the girl's tendencies really explains a lot. And particularly, for this post, anyway, about how she learns.

Matching outfits from Grandma!

I've noticed that Kalina, for the most part, only likes to learn about what she wants to learn about, when she wants to learn about it. She is, therefore, a veritable expert on the sewer system, the planting of seeds and various family members' favorite animals and colors, while she flat-out refuses to even try to write her name, and would much rather spell words than attempt to read them. For a good six months of her 2s she showed a strong hostility toward numbers.

If I can pretend I'm not actually trying to prepare her for kindergarten or real life or anything, it can be fun to observe Kalina in the process of traditional learning:

Me, in my best enthusiastic teacher voice, trying to copy preschool's Ms. Dorie, who as yet has been the only one successful in this particular task: Hey, Kalina, wouldn't it be fun to write a K? Look, you can connect the dots!
Kalina: You do it, Mommy.
Me: Why don't you try? Wouldn't it be fun to write a K for Kalina? Look, just draw a line from this dot to this one! (I show her and trace it with my finger.)
Kalina: But I don't want to.
Me, imitating the voice of a K, because sometimes this works: Write me, Kalina! Please, I'd love to be written!
Kalina: (smile)
Me: Should we use pink? Here, I'll help you!
Kalina, allowing herself to be helped, but as we near the end of the K, scribbling over the whole thing: And the K went into the sewer! Now it's getting hooked up to the balloon, and the balloon is pulling it out. They go onto the houseboat for a ride, and now they're going fishing! More scribbles follow.

Grandpa Tom visited and we
took him out for ice cream
and bunnies at the museum!

Or maybe we're trying to do phonics flashcards (yes, we picked up a set for $1).
Me: Hey, Kalina, U is for umbrella! Uh, uh, umbrella! (Holding the flashcard over my head.)
Kalina, finding other flashcards: The kitten needs an umbrella because it's raining. The horse gets dressed up in its rainboots and they go splashing in puddles together. Splash, splash, splash (bouncing on the rug)! The chick wants to come too! And now off they go in an airplane! (Flying the cards around the room.)

Sometimes, learning just doesn't work very well with an abstract thinker. But wouldn't I be a fun teacher for any other kid? Sometimes I try educational toys on Kalina, but the kittens don't usually like them so we quit, or turn them into rocketships so the kittens can fly to the moon instead. You may say that other kids are like this, too, but I have seen other kids, and they enjoy writing their names--mine has only done it once for her preschool teacher, whom she adores, but definitely not for Mommy, whom she also adores.

Who's teaching who how to "fix" that car?

The amazing thing, to me, is that Kalina at 3 1/2, even with her aversion to studying anything that's not soft and fuzzy (or mucky and gross, like the sewer system), has learned to legitimately read a tiny bit, spell decently well, write a teeny tiny bit, count to 100 (with ambitions of counting to a trillion) and even add a little, all in 30-second increments of teaching, with a glimmer of a promise to continue. Yay, Kalina! I honestly don't know how you did it.

Honestly, our best success has come from educational placemats. Do they make them for advanced English composition or world history?

Learning, itself, is such a tender topic. Do you start flashcards at 18 months, or wait until they beg you for a set because all their friends have them? Do you enroll them in programs and watch educational TV, or cross your fingers and hope nature takes its course and your child learns through thin air? Do you worry or not?

I've got a kitten on my shoulder!

I remind myself all the time that it's certainly not a competition. Each child learns at their own pace and their own way. But then why, when we get ready to sign them up for preschool, do we feel the sudden rush to make sure they know their planets, in order, not to mention deliver a full princess education, so that we can be positive they'll keep up and not be laughed at?

And then there are the playground comments to the tune of: "My child loves flashcards!" or "Watch my 1-year-old count to 10!" Which are all fine and good, until you notice your own child detests flashcards, except as plates for her animals, and was extremely adverse to numbers for just the longest time. Then, you miserably smile and congratulate the happy counting toddler while your own sits just as miserably on the bench beside you at the park, begging to go home, and you can hardly blame her.

Not that I mind bragging--I think it's great when parents are proud of their kids, and I've probably had my moments. But they're more to the tune of, "After Kalina bathed all her animals last night, she put them down for bed so sweetly and sang them all little songs!" Which is certainly brag-worthy in its own right--it just won't get her into college.

[The truly ironic part of all this is that I'm pretty sure Elise will love flashcards, and with her older sister to teach her, she will probably be counting to 10 by this time next year. A great imitator, she already knows how to do her sister's jack-in-the-box dance from music class, change a poopy diaper on her doll (including carefully and proudly shaking the "poop" into the toilet from the diaper), and that 3-year-olds who happen to clean their plate receive what's known as a "treat," which must be delicious but is unfortunately never offered to 1-year-olds. She can also mime just about anything she wants done--"That cookie into my mouth, please," or, "Those balloons, yes, the ones tied to the real estate sign, in my hand, please."]

Possibly the most infuriating part of educating kids is that almost everything you do for them is wrong, depending on the context. Research shows that toys make kids smarter--it also shows that toys spoil them. Do you go along with the wise advice that you shouldn't fill your house with toys, or the wise advice that kids need lots of fun things to expand their minds? Shouldn't a stick and a rock be enough for any kid? So why isn't it, so often? And did you really have to take them to the museum? Shouldn't they be content in their own backyard? I don't pretend to know the answers, but either way I'm visited by mommy guilt. Sometimes I throw caution to the wind and just have fun with the little tykes before they're shipped off to kindergarten. For this reason, we're "only" enrolling Kalina in 2-day-a-week preschool next fall, and I take the girls out for ice cream more than I probably should.

Any way I look at it, however, both Kalina and I are both learning a lot. Her that by counting her kittens she can better assess how many servings of brownie a la mode she'll need, and me that by not forcing Kalina to count her kittens, she's more likely to actually do it. And in the end, I still believe my child is brilliant. In her own abstract way.

Adventures with Two: What's cooking?

Valentine's sweeties and their
balloons! Which are named
Valentine, and Valentine's
Day, respectively.

I remember before Elise was born (so many of my blogs start this way), I  wondered how, in the world, I would cook dinner. Sometimes I still wonder this. I did discover that it's possible:

Month 1: The world cooks for you. Friends and family deliver delicious meals to your door, and when they don't, restaurants do. 

Month 2: From the freezer to the oven, and sometimes back again.

Month 3-6: Reality hits. There will be no more "free meals." Fortunately, the baby naps a lot and the older child sees cooking as quality time, so food lands on the table somehow.

Months 6-9: You never stop cooking. The baby needs special food, the older child sometimes needs special food to feel special, too, and dinner still needs to be made ready. However, in this golden age of child-rearing, the baby is often happy on the floor for full minutes at a time, but can't yet crawl fast enough to be a problem.

Months 9-15 1/2: Dinner gets cooked in 30-second increments for a whole variety of reasons.

Month 16: The baby decides she wants to be involved in the dinner-cooking process, and simply can't be held off or distracted any longer.

Whew, thank goodness the girls are both old enough to help! After all, both can stand on a chair, sometimes without pushing each other off, and "measure," and "pour," and "mix"--what more do I need? With double the help around the kitchen, meals will be whipped up twice as easy, and twice as fast! Twice as delicious, too! Right?

So why do Matt and I both cringe inwardly at times when we're about to embark on making pizza crust or beef stew and we hear, "I want to help!" followed quickly by, "Ooh! Oooh! Ooohh!" as both girls race to drag over the stained chair I've designated as the cooking stool and clamber up before I can say "sharp knives, hot pans and raw meat?"

All of a sudden, our task changes from just throwing the ingredients together to making sure Elise doesn't fall off the chair (which she would, every single time, if we weren't so vigilant), helping Kalina help us measure and dump (which she's actually quite good at), or pushing dangerous or messy items far out of reach from Elise's grabbers. Our actual dinner becomes an afterthought.

Because what parent says, "No, you may not help make dinner?" Despite our inward groans, we try our best to pipe up, "It'd be wonderful to have some help!" Because it really would, and the girls are cute.

Elise's first pan of brownies is in the oven!

With the addition of a toddler to our meal preparation task force, Kalina feels shoved aside (literally and figuratively) and I feel flustered, but Elise couldn't possibly be prouder of her new status as "kitchen help." The ecstatic toddler debuted on a pan of brownies.

Elise is every bit as eager of a baker/cook as her older sister, albeit a little less precise at the moment. Whereas Kalina can break an egg for me (I still open it up to spill the contents, though), accurately measure ingredients, and be trusted not to dump the mixing bowl's contents onto the counter, Elise is far too willing to try her own hand at these tasks than my comfort level would generally allow, and has caught on to our general methods with remarkable speed. We've reached a tenuous agreement where she can play with the measuring cups and spoons not in use, and occasionally dig in flour or sugar with them. She's negotiating hard for the eggs, but I won't give in.

Although Kalina, by virtue of her more advanced age, is currently more adept in the kitchen than Elise, she, too, is still learning the ropes. This week alone, in fact, she's discovered that when she turns the mixer onto a high speed when Mommy's not looking, the top inch of contents gets flung onto the counter top--and any animals who happen to be sitting there to watch. She's also learned the "glob" method of frosting cupcakes (a big glob here, another big glob there, a few Christmas tree sprinkles, and voila! A Valentine's cupcake!). We clean up a few extra messes, guesstimate baking powder on occasion and sometimes send an armful of stuffed animals through the washing machine--and not just because they enjoy the ride. We've decided that when she's four, she can crack open an egg all by herself, and by the time she's five we're both sure she'll be making cookies with virtually no help. Oh, the parties she'll have. 

Of course, there are times when Mommy really does have to fry up some pork chops and chop up some veggies by herself. And at these times, I wonder why we can't all have dinner at around 9:00 a.m., when the kids are relatively cheerful rather than just on the other side of the 5 a.m. meltdown/minor injury hour. Some days we simply muddle through dinner preparation, calming hysterics even while salting steamed green beans.

And fortunately, that which has provided an endless parade of ups and downs in its preparation also smooths all ailments. Dinner, for all of its hassle, finally comes to everyone's rescue in the end. 

Elise and the animals

Notice how they're tucked
under Elise's right arm: do
you think she's left-handed?

There's nothing much cuter in this world than seeing a 16-month-old gently kiss a shaggy pink bear and puppy and put them not-so-gently down for a little nap, whispering "shhh" to make sure they stay asleep. Or seeing her give the same bear and puppy a big squeeze if they fall off the couch, or hold them up so they can see the train passing by, feed them pretend food from a pretend spoon, or lick their noses or wake them up from their naps.

And that pretty much sums up the take-home message of this blog, unless you want to read about how we got to this point, which is as follows:

As I was preparing for Elise's arrival, I found myself scoping out stores for what I hoped would become her version of Lamby. I knew that:

1. For as much as you can say this about a stuffed animal, Lamby has been an amazing presence in Kalina's life. (In fact, so much so that Kalina doesn't sleep with Lamby anymore. No, Lamby sleeps carefully bathed and oh-so-sweetly tucked into the top bunk of her bunk bed, usually with a smaller animal friend of her own, and kissed at least once on the forehead. The bunk bed is pulled up directly next to Kalina's bed. It is a place of supreme honor.)

2. I wanted Elise to have the same opportunity.

3. There was little I could do to convince Elise to attach to the stuffed animal I carefully chose for her, instead of, say, a plastic shovel, but I could try. 

Do you think they're related?

As long as I was going to attempt this feat, and based on our experience with Lamby, I had a few criteria:

1. The animal must sit and lay down easily, with limbs that could be arranged somewhat by a child's hands (so, a stuffed fish was a no-go).

2. It must be readily replaceable--easy enough (and cheap enough) to buy a stunt-double a year down the road if Elise did decide to attach.

3. It must not be so small that it would be mistaken for a cat toy.

4. It must not be so large that it wouldn't fit in her arms.

5. It must be thoroughly soft and sweet. No stuffed pythons, please.

6. It must not make noise or do anything that required batteries, as I wanted Elise to be able to sleep with it without being woken up every time she shifted a bit.

7. It must not be another lamb.

8. Really, it shouldn't be white. But also not black, dark brown, anything boyish, any obnoxious print or anything except a sweet pastel. This left variations of pink, lavender and yellow.

I was amazed at how long it took to find this animal, but I did, shortly after Elise was born. And so, Pink Bear quietly entered our lives. Pink Bear remained relatively dormant and ignored in favor of a stuffed whale, a stuffed alligator, stuffed dogs and armfuls of Kalina's coveted stuffed toys until I deemed it was safe to add her to Elise's crib. 

At first, I decided to make an attempt (rather halfhearted, to be honest), to limit Pink Bear's movements to Elise's crib, so that it'd be one less stuffie for me to keep track of all over town. However, my hope that Elise would attach to the animal superseded convenience, as it often does, and now we drag Pink Bear everywhere. We do have a stunt double (thanks, Aunt Nancy!). We also have Puppy, who joined us on Christmas and has not left Pink Bear's side. He, too, has a stunt double, because it wasn't worth $5 not to acquire one.

And although Elise is actually willing to play with the occasional doll or human Little People figure (unlike Big Sister until she was about 3), the toddler is most assuredly an animal person. Is her affinity inborn, or is it instead due to the fact that anyone who has spent so many of her formative months with Kalina could only assume that life must be navigated with an animal tucked under an arm? Only time will tell.

But Elise's love for animals isn't limited to her two favorites. She gleefully trots across the room if she's pursued by a stuffed predator, such as Big Blue Horse. She protectively cradles tiny animals (often belonging to her sister) in her arms, shooting the evil eye to and scooting across the room from anyone (her sister) who looks like they might take them away. She knows exactly how to feed our pet cat and mice, and is generous in her helpings. And she'll actually wield a puppet rather than always requiring us to do it.

Kalina has dutifully taught Elise quite a repertoire of animal noises, which the littler one delights in. Her earliest included "woof" for dogs and the cutest little "ppffffhhh" for elephants (and giraffes, which she associates with elephants for some reason). Pink Bear, by the way, growls the cutest little growl. Elise still wows audiences with her animal sound skills for such a young age. 

Kalina has also taught the littler girl almost everything she knows about caring for stuffed animals, and in fact, it's rather impressive that for months now the younger girl has equated Pink Bear with Lamby. Whether it's piggyback rides or performing "The Wheels on the Bus," you can be sure that if Lamby is doing it, Pink Bear soon will be, too. Although this is exactly what I was going for, it took me by surprise.

Perhaps best of all, each girl is starting to recognize which animals are most important to the other. Kalina keeps track of Pink Bear and Puppy for Elise nearly as conscientiously as she does Lamby, or the kittens, or Costume Cow and her baby Farmyard Cow, or the penguin trio (Peep, Peep and Peep). After all, nothing is more important than keeping your animals close to you at all times. And for her part, Elise kindly returns any of Kalina's animals she's "borrowed" after a polite request for a trade (which we've been working really hard on) or tears, or simply after she's had a long enough turn.

And so, it looks like it's safe to say that cuteness will continue to abound in our household for the foreseeable future. Whew.