"dot com"

How to speak to a small child is something I still struggle with. I think my husband struggles with it too, but in his own special Einsteinian way.

For example, when asked who the funny looking guy on the outside of the Lucky Charms cereal box is, I respond with, "He's a um...umm...Leprechaun! From Ireland. He's good luck...or something."

My husband responds with reciting verbatim the legend of the Irish Leprechaun, including when and where the story originated. That may be exaggerating a bit, but just a tiny bit. You get the idea.

Both of our answers get the same response from Little Miss (a.k.a. The Four Year Old). This is a slight tilt of the head, awkward silence, and then finally an "oh" followed by a sigh. I fear when she gets older she may add, "Why do I even bother?" to this little routine.

I was really struck by how I need to work on my communication skills with Little Miss the other night.

We were over at a friend's house when my friend's youngest daughter (slightly older than The Four Year Old) stepped out on to her porch and uttered a shriek.

Little Miss immediately demanded to know what was wrong with her friend.

"She stepped on a sticker," my husband explained.

Well, I know that in Little Miss vocabulary the word "sticker" refers to something that has a cute picture on the front and sticky stuff on the back. Hardly worth a yelp.

I attempted to clarify the multiple meaning word for my child.

"Not a sticker sticker. Not like you get from Miss Jackie to put on your shirt when you do a good job. It's a pokey sticker. The kind you find on the ground and step on."

I got the typical quizzical reaction. Not being one to give up easily, I tried again.

"You know, a pokey thingy that comes from a tree or bush and can give you an ouchie."

There was silence as we loaded my kids into the car. I'm sure The Four Year Old was trying to process what I had said.

As we were driving home, a small voice came from the back seat.

Little Miss said, "Well, if I need to know more about pokey stickers, I guess I can go to pokey stickers dot com on the computer."

I didn't know if I was relieved my child already knows there are other resources out there that may have a better answer than her parents, or frightened. Either way, I better find "how to speak to a four year old dot com" quick.

Decay?

You know when you learn the definition to a new word, or you learn how to spell a word, then it seems to come up all the time?

For me, recently it's been "feral". That means wild, or wildlike. My soon to be one year old son seems to approach things in a very feral way. He is very feral.

I actually get introduced to new vocabulary words all the time because my husband is a walking dictionary and throws fancy words around in his daily speech. He's also a writer, so I guess it comes with the job. But seriously? I can't keep up.

I like it when the four year old learns new words. She will dwell on the word and try it out for several days, seeing how it fits in her world. The other thing I like about the four year old's vocabulary is that I can still keep up with it. However, by about day 3 or 4 of the new word, I'm ready to move on.

I used to be kind of an "anti-computer" teacher. Computers are good for research, but they can't "teach" anything.

I stand corrected.

I myself have gotten addicted to this website called "Time 4 Learning". I think it's a great website for teaching kids and, as a teacher, I highly recommend it as a supplemental tool.

But alas, that is not where my daughter learned her new vocabulary word, "decay."

My daughter learned this happy little vocabulary word from pbskids.org. Namely "Sid the Science Kid." After spending about a half hour playing with some Sid the Science Kid game, my daughter asked me, "What's decay mean?"

I began with my usual processing stall of, "Well..."

My daughter then answered the question for herself. "It's when things get old and slimy and icky."

"Okay. I guess that's one way to look at it."

"Like when the apple got decayed. Or when my juice gets decayed. Or when things in the fridge get old."

"Right. That's absolutely right. But even leaves can decay outside and return to soil."

That was a little too much for her. "Okay," she said as a dismissal.

Over the next several days, "decay" became the word de jour.

"I can't eat this," she said as I placed a grilled cheese sandwich in front of her. "It has decay."

"No it doesn't. Where?"

"Right there. See?" She pointed to a slightly burnt part.

"That's not decay. That's crispy."

She mumbled something about decay and began to tear the offending part of her sandwich off.

On the way to preschool, she said to me, "I'm going to leave my juice in the car. PLEASE don't let it decay, okay?"

She asked for some water later in the day. I handed her a water bottle.

"Does it have peanuts in it?" (We've trained her a little to well to ask about peanuts because of her allergy).

"No. No peanuts."

"Does it have decay?"

Sigh. "No. Just drink it."

She examined the bottle closely before taking a drink.

I'm seriously thinking of writing Sid the Science Kid a letter. I don't know what I'd say. But I feel the need to sarcastically thank him for teaching the word "decay" to my child so well. Something like, "Dear Sid, Please come live with her until she learns a new vocabulary word. I've had enough."

I am Houdini

We all have different titles that we secretly label each other with. For example, the baby is "the Climber", or "the Destructor". My four year old is "the Singer." My husband is the "Absent-Minded Professor." And I am "Houdini".

This is why.

I am the only one who can find anything (with the exception of my cell phone-the absent minded professor is very good at finding my cell phone). Better explained-I'm the only one who can see things when they are under something, behind something, or have been moved.

Example:

Husband: Where's such and such?
Me: On the table.
Husband: I don't see it.
Me: It was on the table just a minute ago.
Husband: Are you sure?
Me: (walking over to table, lifting up a book which was covering such and such) You have to move things around.
Husband: Thank you.

Another example:

Me (to four year old): Hand me that thing-a-ma-jig
Four year old: Where?
Me: On the counter.
Four year old: I don't see it, Mama.
Me: LOOK BEHIND THE SALT.
Four year old: Oh. There it is!

Notice that they are impressed and say thank you when I perform this trick. That is why I am Houdini. No one else can perform this trick. Just me.

And I was feeling pretty invincible as a Houdini until the other day when I realized I couldn't find a single pacifier in the house.

The baby was screaming and a pacifier was nowhere to be found.

Which is so dumb, because I have like, fifty of them.

It seems I have been outsmarted by the pacifiers. How can fifty pacifiers just vanish? It's not like we live in a mansion. It's not like they can walk away on their own. It's not like they can find a better mouth to suck on them somewhere else. Where did they go?

Because the baby was screaming and all I cared about was quiet, I sent my husband downstairs to find a pacifier. "Go find a pacifier."

My husband came back with the most archaic pacifier I have ever seen.

"That's it?" I sighed. "That's the 'pacifier-of-last-resort'."

My husband looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"It means if that's the only one we can find, there are no other binkies in the house! Where did they go?!?"

The next day I went out and bought two new pacifiers.

I set one aside and gave one to the baby. He was very appreciative.

By the end of the day, both of the pacifiers were in my daughter's hands and she was playing a game called "Run from the Binkies."

"Don't lose those," I told her.

"I won't."

The next day I couldn't find any pacifiers again.

"Where are the pacifiers?" I asked my daughter.

"I don't know. Maybe in the blanket?"

I shook out the blanket that was on the floor. No pacifiers. I was pretty frustrated and threw around words like "ridiculous".

I got home from my staff meeting today and there was my baby, sitting in the middle of the kitchen, sucking on one of the new pacifiers.

"Hey! There's the pacifier!"

My four year old said, "Yep. We found it."

There goes my Houdini title.

That Dish!

There is a tupperware dish of old, OLD, strawberries sitting in my sink.

Sometimes this happens.

Containers will work their way to the back of the refrigerator, hoping to find comfort among the old jars of jelly and whatever I bought when I was pregnant because it sounded good, but then I never ate it.

Not that there's a lot of this going on. But it happens.


I guess my husband was motivated to clean some things out of the refrigerator, but not motivated to wash the dish.

I'm scared to open the dish.

So no one wants to open or wash the dish.

I bet if I gave it to the baby to open, he'd open it.

But then there'd be a huge, yucky mess. Not that that's unusual either.

Maybe today. Maybe today I'll open it.