Sunday, April 27, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Four years old
Hi my sweetie,
Last weekend you became four years old. Yes, it took 365 days between three to reach four, and 4 x 365 days to reach four from the day I gave birth to you, but as all parents seem to say, it sure went fast.
You are quite the manifesting delight! You asked Daddy a couple months ago if we could go to Disneyland for your birthday. He said yes. What can only be a testament to your manifesting powers, was that we were at Disneyland on exactly your birthday, which fell on a Saturday this year.
When I asked you "what do you want to do at Disneyland?" you replied, "I want to play games and win tickets and have a parade." When Daddy asked you "what does Disneyland look like?" you replied "triangles and squares." So I'm not sure you knew what delights and surprises awaited you at the happiest place on earth, but the Disney marketing folks call it that for a reason ...
When we walked up to buy our tickets, Daddy told the ticket booth attendant it was your birthday and they presented you with a big round button exclaiming "Happy Birthday Ava" (okay, they wrote in the AVA with permanent marker, but still!), and said if we went to Town Hall you could hear your birthday message. We dutifully toddled along to Town Hall, sat you on the counter near a big old-fashioned phone where you were told happy birthday by none other than ... Goofy! "It was Goofy," you told us, "he said Happy Birthday!"
What a brilliant start to a wonderful day. We all got hats, including Daddy's peter pan and Jacque's minnie mouse. Mine was a gift from Auntie Brie - one I'd wanted since our trip to Mexico in November when I gazed jealously at hers ... we rode rides, we played games, didn't win many tickets, but your favorite ride, you tell others now, was the ROCKET CARS! Yes, you say it loud and exclamatory every time! Yes, that's right, Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blaster cars were your favorite ride of the day, or perhaps the most memorable.
My sweetie, you are a wonderful delightful sometimes stubborn but altogether lovable girl. you talk and talk and talk and if I'm not listening to your satisfaction, say louder "Mommy I'M TALKING TO YOU." I'm slowly patiently teaching you about interrupting people when they're talking, but as with most parental lessons, feel like I need to clean up my act first.
Sometimes you don't want to go to school. I laugh, Daddy laughs, and we say to nobody in particular that you are of course the first child to ever say that in the history of modern education. So then I tell you that you can go to work and fix computers and I will go to school and play with your friends and paint and play with playdoh and play on the playground. You then shake your head, predictably, and say "No, I am going to school and you are going to work!"
I also love it when you ask "Why?" You're reaching the age when you ask "Why?" frequently, and a good friend who is also a parent said his son does this a lot so I shared my secret for reducing frustration. I may answer "Why?" if I know, but if I don't know, then I say "I don't know, what do you think?" I love, love, love to hear the variety of answers you deduce. Your favorite, of late, is to ask "Mommy (Daddy), Why do tigers have stripes?" Daddy responded the first time with "Because if they had spots they'd be leopards." So now if I say "I don't know, why do you think?" you respond with "Because if they had spots they'd be leopards or baby elephants or mommy or daddy elephants." Most amusingly, a few weeks ago we saw a tiger presentation at Marine World and Daddy said a bit too loud "Why do tigers have stripes?" and the tiger trainer, standing next to a very large tiger, responded "so they can be well camouflaged in the jungles where they live." Daddy looked a trifle embarrassed and said he wasn't really looking for an answer.
What else can I tell you about you at four? One of our (mine and yours, but definitely not Daddy's) favorite meals is ... noodles and tofu and carrots. I boil soba noodles and then cut up tofu and a few different types of veggies and throw them into a shallow pot with a bit of water and seven minutes later ... dinner. Yes, my sweet, you ask for tofu by name. You like it even more than me. But being a normal kid, or normal enough, you also love pancakes, french toast, your Nana's tortillas, rice, but not ... beans. I like beans, Daddy likes beans, but you, no way no how, not in a boat not with a goat.
Which brings me to your favorite books of the month ... Chicka Chicka Boom Boom was the running number one favorite we both have memorized but it has been usurped in popularity by Green Eggs and Ham. You just got a new book from Grandma Bear called "It's hard being a bunny" which you also love, and read to your Baby Rabbit last night before bed. Well, to say you "read" it is a slight exaggeration, but you told the story from memory. You read letters, but not words yet. I look on, smile, and mumble to myself how your whole world is going to open up as soon as you read your first word. For now though, I tell you that letters make words and words make sentences and sentences make paragraphs and paragraphs make books.
But now, it's four o'clock and I said I'd pick you up early from school to get a haircut. I may even surprise Daddy and get it cut Dora-short to make our morning grooming rituals easier.
I love you, more than there is water in the ocean.
Mommy
Last weekend you became four years old. Yes, it took 365 days between three to reach four, and 4 x 365 days to reach four from the day I gave birth to you, but as all parents seem to say, it sure went fast.
You are quite the manifesting delight! You asked Daddy a couple months ago if we could go to Disneyland for your birthday. He said yes. What can only be a testament to your manifesting powers, was that we were at Disneyland on exactly your birthday, which fell on a Saturday this year.
When I asked you "what do you want to do at Disneyland?" you replied, "I want to play games and win tickets and have a parade." When Daddy asked you "what does Disneyland look like?" you replied "triangles and squares." So I'm not sure you knew what delights and surprises awaited you at the happiest place on earth, but the Disney marketing folks call it that for a reason ...
When we walked up to buy our tickets, Daddy told the ticket booth attendant it was your birthday and they presented you with a big round button exclaiming "Happy Birthday Ava" (okay, they wrote in the AVA with permanent marker, but still!), and said if we went to Town Hall you could hear your birthday message. We dutifully toddled along to Town Hall, sat you on the counter near a big old-fashioned phone where you were told happy birthday by none other than ... Goofy! "It was Goofy," you told us, "he said Happy Birthday!"
What a brilliant start to a wonderful day. We all got hats, including Daddy's peter pan and Jacque's minnie mouse. Mine was a gift from Auntie Brie - one I'd wanted since our trip to Mexico in November when I gazed jealously at hers ... we rode rides, we played games, didn't win many tickets, but your favorite ride, you tell others now, was the ROCKET CARS! Yes, you say it loud and exclamatory every time! Yes, that's right, Buzz Lightyear's Astro Blaster cars were your favorite ride of the day, or perhaps the most memorable.
My sweetie, you are a wonderful delightful sometimes stubborn but altogether lovable girl. you talk and talk and talk and if I'm not listening to your satisfaction, say louder "Mommy I'M TALKING TO YOU." I'm slowly patiently teaching you about interrupting people when they're talking, but as with most parental lessons, feel like I need to clean up my act first.
Sometimes you don't want to go to school. I laugh, Daddy laughs, and we say to nobody in particular that you are of course the first child to ever say that in the history of modern education. So then I tell you that you can go to work and fix computers and I will go to school and play with your friends and paint and play with playdoh and play on the playground. You then shake your head, predictably, and say "No, I am going to school and you are going to work!"
I also love it when you ask "Why?" You're reaching the age when you ask "Why?" frequently, and a good friend who is also a parent said his son does this a lot so I shared my secret for reducing frustration. I may answer "Why?" if I know, but if I don't know, then I say "I don't know, what do you think?" I love, love, love to hear the variety of answers you deduce. Your favorite, of late, is to ask "Mommy (Daddy), Why do tigers have stripes?" Daddy responded the first time with "Because if they had spots they'd be leopards." So now if I say "I don't know, why do you think?" you respond with "Because if they had spots they'd be leopards or baby elephants or mommy or daddy elephants." Most amusingly, a few weeks ago we saw a tiger presentation at Marine World and Daddy said a bit too loud "Why do tigers have stripes?" and the tiger trainer, standing next to a very large tiger, responded "so they can be well camouflaged in the jungles where they live." Daddy looked a trifle embarrassed and said he wasn't really looking for an answer.
What else can I tell you about you at four? One of our (mine and yours, but definitely not Daddy's) favorite meals is ... noodles and tofu and carrots. I boil soba noodles and then cut up tofu and a few different types of veggies and throw them into a shallow pot with a bit of water and seven minutes later ... dinner. Yes, my sweet, you ask for tofu by name. You like it even more than me. But being a normal kid, or normal enough, you also love pancakes, french toast, your Nana's tortillas, rice, but not ... beans. I like beans, Daddy likes beans, but you, no way no how, not in a boat not with a goat.
Which brings me to your favorite books of the month ... Chicka Chicka Boom Boom was the running number one favorite we both have memorized but it has been usurped in popularity by Green Eggs and Ham. You just got a new book from Grandma Bear called "It's hard being a bunny" which you also love, and read to your Baby Rabbit last night before bed. Well, to say you "read" it is a slight exaggeration, but you told the story from memory. You read letters, but not words yet. I look on, smile, and mumble to myself how your whole world is going to open up as soon as you read your first word. For now though, I tell you that letters make words and words make sentences and sentences make paragraphs and paragraphs make books.
But now, it's four o'clock and I said I'd pick you up early from school to get a haircut. I may even surprise Daddy and get it cut Dora-short to make our morning grooming rituals easier.
I love you, more than there is water in the ocean.
Mommy
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