True tales of the wonder toddler.
Apr. 23rd, 2007 11:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaAlex "finished" her dinner long before Michael and I did tonight, so I got one of her favorite books to keep her occupied at the table while we ate. It's a typical sort of alphabet book, where each page has multiple photos of objects beginning with the target letter.
Alex opened it up to A. She looked over the array of photos and brought her finger down on the avocado.
"You can eat this," she remarked conversationally.
"Is there anything else you can eat?" I asked her.
She pointed swiftly at the apples. "You can eat the red apple, but not the green one." Then she moved her finger to the abacus. "I can play with this."
Michael and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.
"Is there anything here you can ride on?" I asked.
"How about the airplane? ...And the ambulance."
That's how it went for page after page. She slotted objects into categories and matched them with their functions. She even spontaneously linked the shovel and the sand castle from opposite sides of the S page, pointing out that "you can dig the sand castle with the shovel."
This doesn't sound like as much of a big deal now that I'm trying to explain it. But Michael and I had no idea that she could be so... analytical.
She's been doing a lot of problem-solving for book characters, lately. It's very sweet. We love Sandra Boynton's somewhat cruel story of social exclusion, But Not the Hippopotamus. ("A cat and two rats are trying on hats - but not the hippopotamus. A moose and a goose together have juice - but not the hippopotamus. A bear and a hare have been to the fair - but not the hippopotamus.") On every page, Alex has a way for the hippopotamus to join in. "Hippopotamus have the green hat." "Hippopotamus just have a tiny sip of juice." "Bear feeds the hippopotamus ice cream." At the triumphant conclusion ("But YES the hippopotamus! ...But not the armadillo."), Alex recommends sympathetically, "Armadillo go home and see his mama."
Similarly, we can't get through a telling of Goldilocks and the Three Bears (a story that I recite at least ten times a week) without Alex's additions: Mama Bear makes some more porridge for Baby Bear, and Papa Bear fixes Baby Bear's chair. Apparently, it bothers her to hear about Baby Bear's suffering, when the fix is just so obvious.
Manners have made a huge resurgence lately, after pretty much vanishing for months and months. It's "Bless you, Mama," when I sneeze, and "We watch a little Sesame Street, please?" (At least, the first time she asks - if we refuse, the second time carries the threat of nuclear meltdown behind it.)
It is juuuust slightly less maddening that she refuses to eat more than two bites of dinner when, instead of yelling "no" and pushing her plate away, she drawls, "Ohhh, no thank you. I've had enough."
But only slightly.
Alex opened it up to A. She looked over the array of photos and brought her finger down on the avocado.
"You can eat this," she remarked conversationally.
"Is there anything else you can eat?" I asked her.
She pointed swiftly at the apples. "You can eat the red apple, but not the green one." Then she moved her finger to the abacus. "I can play with this."
Michael and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.
"Is there anything here you can ride on?" I asked.
"How about the airplane? ...And the ambulance."
That's how it went for page after page. She slotted objects into categories and matched them with their functions. She even spontaneously linked the shovel and the sand castle from opposite sides of the S page, pointing out that "you can dig the sand castle with the shovel."
This doesn't sound like as much of a big deal now that I'm trying to explain it. But Michael and I had no idea that she could be so... analytical.
She's been doing a lot of problem-solving for book characters, lately. It's very sweet. We love Sandra Boynton's somewhat cruel story of social exclusion, But Not the Hippopotamus. ("A cat and two rats are trying on hats - but not the hippopotamus. A moose and a goose together have juice - but not the hippopotamus. A bear and a hare have been to the fair - but not the hippopotamus.") On every page, Alex has a way for the hippopotamus to join in. "Hippopotamus have the green hat." "Hippopotamus just have a tiny sip of juice." "Bear feeds the hippopotamus ice cream." At the triumphant conclusion ("But YES the hippopotamus! ...But not the armadillo."), Alex recommends sympathetically, "Armadillo go home and see his mama."
Similarly, we can't get through a telling of Goldilocks and the Three Bears (a story that I recite at least ten times a week) without Alex's additions: Mama Bear makes some more porridge for Baby Bear, and Papa Bear fixes Baby Bear's chair. Apparently, it bothers her to hear about Baby Bear's suffering, when the fix is just so obvious.
Manners have made a huge resurgence lately, after pretty much vanishing for months and months. It's "Bless you, Mama," when I sneeze, and "We watch a little Sesame Street, please?" (At least, the first time she asks - if we refuse, the second time carries the threat of nuclear meltdown behind it.)
It is juuuust slightly less maddening that she refuses to eat more than two bites of dinner when, instead of yelling "no" and pushing her plate away, she drawls, "Ohhh, no thank you. I've had enough."
But only slightly.
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Date: 2007-04-24 09:37 pm (UTC)