Girl Detective

At The Believer, Chris Batchelder writes:

the vivid surprises of child-rearing seem so similar to the vivid surprises of good literature.

(Link from The Morning News.)

and offers examples. Recently, I was reading The Very Busy Spider to 3yo Guppy, for what may have been the gazillionth time. As happened to Batchelder, though, my kid surprised me when I least expected I could be surprised.

In the book, a spider spins a web and a series of farm animals ask if she wants to do something else with them, e.g. Want to roll in the mud, said the pig? After I read one of those questions, Guppy said, “But spiders don’t do that.” It took me a moment to put together that not only was the spider ignoring the questions as she spun her web, but Guppy had just crystallized that what they were asking her to do weren’t things a spider could or would do, until the very end when the rooster asks if she wants to catch a pesky fly. I’d read this book hundreds of times, and Guppy’s statement revealed a whole new facet of the book to me.

This year, with both boys off from school and G. Grod taking off most of the week after Christmas, and since we only set up our tree on Christmas Eve, I decided to embrace the entire 12 days of Christmas as the celebration.

I already wrote about the first day.

On the second day of Christmas, we ventured out in the snow to our grocery coop for necessary basics like yogurt and heavy cream. The streets were still bad from the Christmas storm, so we walked and took the sled, 3yo Guppy hitching a ride for most of a mile downhill. G shouldered the food on the way back up the hill, and both boys wanted to ride in the sled. I lasted about 2 blocks, then, sucking wind with thundering heart, told them to GET OUT! and WALK ALREADY! (The walk home is particularly steep, and challenging in the best of weathers.) I was in need of a nap when we got home.

After that, I had to convince the boys (what?) to watch Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town. But the penguin, I insisted! Burgermeister Meisterburger! “Put one foot in front of the other…” Grudgingly, they allowed me to play my DVD, and not so grudgingly, they enjoyed it.

For bed, we read more of our Christmas library: Cranberry Christmas by Wende and Harry Devlin, The Mole Family’s Christmas by Russell Hoban, and The Night Before Christmas ill. by Jessie Willcox Smith (one of three different copies we have.) G and I very much enjoyed Bridget Jones’ Diary on dvd (which opens and closes at the holidays!) later that night.

On the third day of Christmas I went to yoga class while G. made biscuits and sausage gravy, then we met friends at the park for sledding. G and I geeked out and watched Part 1 of the David Tennant Dr. Who finale. Disappointing, but we were glad not to see any Daleks.

On the fourth day of Christmas the boys played with snap circuits and G. and I watched Death at a Funeral that night. It tried to be funny, but was instead mostly unpleasant. Alan Tudyk on hallucinogens saved it from being a total loss, I thought.

On the fifth day of Christmas we met at a friend’s house for a huge gathering of families. Great company, good coffee and snacks, but twenty two kids make rather a lot of noise. I finally got back to writing holiday cards. The boys watched Schoolhouse Rock, a gift from my aunt. That night, G and I watched It’s a Wonderful Life for the first time. I’d seen the Marlo Thomas remake several times as a child, (Orson Welles as Mr. Potter, Trapper John as her husband, Chloris Leachman as the angel and Christopher Guest as her brother!) yet somehow never the original. It’s good, but long and repetitively tragic before its happy ending. I prefer American Madness (which has some of the same banking/money details) or It Happened One Night as Capra films, and The Shop around the Corner as a Jimmy Stewart holiday film.

And on the sixth day of Christmas, I made oatmeal from Damn Good Food, a gift from my aunt. Then we read Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas by Russell Hoban, after which we took a family walk as the snow fell, fiercely and briefly, yet again.

More Christmas doings to come, I hope.

G. Grod and I accompanied 6yo Drake and 3yo Guppy downstairs, where they stared, wide-eyed and silent, at the tree in the living room that had not been there the day before. (Shh. G put it up Christmas Eve while I wrapped presents and helped.)

In past years, G and my parents have sent so many stocking stuffers that we haven’t needed to help. This year was a scaled-back celebration for lots of v. good reasons, so I was on stocking duty for the first time. Friends helped with lots of suggestions, and in the end I put in: a chocolate, a peppermint, a small box of Altoids, a pack of Glee gum, a candy cane, a temporary tattoo (free from a store sometime last summer), mechanical toys they got at a birthday party and forgot about, a roll of quarters (for video games and gumball machines), a tiny satsuma mandarin orange, a finger puppet and a pack of Annie’s bunny fruit snacks. The boys decided on their own that Santa had filled the stockings.

The boys’ Auntie Sydney managed to score a Zhou Zhou pets Giant Hamster City Playset, which was the hit of the morning, though Lego Secret Agents and Snap Circuits also got a lot of attention. We watched The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, then I made snow Totoros

which the boys had no interest in while G shoveled the heavy, wet snow. Good for building, bad for shoveling. Since the roads were bad we didn’t go out for Chinese, but instead made pepperoni pan pizza. G discovered that vodka makes the cooking process a lot easier. We had pumpkin whoopie pies for dessert, then watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

At bed, the boys and I read several of our favorite Christmas books, the new Christmas Magic, beautifully illustrated by Jon Muth (Zen Shorts and Zen Ties), Mr. Willowby’s Christmas Tree, Olivia Helps with Christmas, Harvey Slumfenburger’s Christmas Present, and James Marshall’s The Night Before Christmas. Then we sang all the carols we know from Tomie DePaola’s Book of Christmas Carols, which we borrowed from the library for the fourth year in a row.

Then G and I snuggled down on the couch to watch The Shop Around the Corner, which charms me anew every time I watch it. Is it perfect? I think it might be.

From the archives. I like how the first time I posted it was in late November, last year was early December and this year about 48 hours before Christmas. This year, the annotated version.

On gift giving for kids:
Star Tribune 12/24/89 - Pat Gardner “Tender Years”

The weeks of hectic preparation are coming to a close. Within days [hours], the magic will begin to unfold for our children and, vicariously through them, for us. Just as we remember those wonderful Christmas Eves and mornings long ago, our children will one day look back on these days. How will they remember them? What are you giving your children this year?

I know one family of modest means that makes a great effort to celebrate Christmas in the best way possible. Their children always find five gifts under the tree. And more than that, the gifts are always accompanied by a parent. Here’s how they do it.

The children always receive a gift to hug and love. Sometimes it’s a doll or maybe a stuffed animal. Every Christmas each child has something to care for, to carry along and finally at night to share a bed, secrets and dreams. [I'm giving them stuffed toys that have been out of sight so long they may have been forgotten.]

The wise parents know that the children will themselves learn to care for others by practicing on dolls and stuffed animals. Mom and Dad demonstrate rocking the stuffed bear and wiping the doll’s face. They talk about being gentle and giving care.

More important, they treat their children tenderly. They make a special effort at this busy time of year for a little more lap time, more frequent hugs and all the physical care and attention their young children need.

The children in this family always receive something to read. The parents know that to give them books is to give them wings. The little ones get books, and the big ones get books. Books aren’t foreign to any member of this family. Books are treasures. And more than that, they become a daily connection between parent and child. [I've bought books for every single person on my list except my elder son. Oops.]

The wise parents know that the best way to raise a reader is to read to a child….They share curiosity. They take the time to listen patiently to their beginning reader. They share discoveries. Through books, these parents explore worlds within their home and beyond their front door with all of their children.

The children receive toys and games. These parents are concerned about each child’s skills and find fun ways to enhance their present capabilities and encourage further development. For a grasping baby, a crib gym; for a beginning walker, a push toy; for a pre-schooler, a shape and color sorter; for a beginning reader, a game of sequence and strategy. [We can't find Quarto or the Cranium Marble game locally, so games may have to wait.]

The parents know that play is the work of childhood. They understand that to meet a child at her level of accomplishment is to encourage success in play. Success stimulates motivation and interest in a challenge. So the parents judge their toy and game choices carefully. Not too easy, but not too hard.

They they do the most important thing. They play with their children. The children see that learning is a toy, that it’s fun to challenge oneself, that play can be a very social activity, that it’s OK to win and also to lose and that Mom and Dad wholeheartedly approve of play.

The children in this family always receive a gift of activity. From a simple ball or jump rope to a basketball hoop or a pair of ice skates, they always have one gift that encourages action. [But what if the action it encourages is hitting your little brother, as with the hockey stick I'm thinking of getting 6yo Drake?]

The parents know that those children who, by nature, are very active may need to be channeled into acceptable and appropriate activities. And they know that those children who, by nature, are very passive may need to be encouraged to move with purpose. But their message to their children is that physical activity is important and good.

These parents make their message clear by joining their children in physical play. They skate and play catch. They’re on the floor with their crawlers and walk hand in hand with their toddlers. They get bumped and bruised and laugh and shout. They sled and they bowl. And many times in the next few weeks when resting on the couch sounds much more inviting, these parents will give their kids one more gift. They’ll get up and play with them.

The children always receive a gift of artistic expression. They might find crayons, paints or markers in their stockings. It might be a gift of clay this year or rubber stamps or scissors and glue. The materials change, but the object remains the same: create with joy.

These wise parents aren’t terribly concerned about the mess of finger paints. [Um, speak for yourself. I hate mess. I'm not a good artistic mom.] They’re more concerned about the exposure to unique sensations. They want their children to use their imaginations. They want their children to approach life in a hands-on fashion. And they want them to express themselves through their artistic activities in ways that exceed their vocabularies.

G Grod and I watched The Princess Bride with 6yo Drake and 3yo Guppy. Once the man in black turned up and began to chase the kidnappers, George asked who he might be.

“I know.” said Guppy. “It’s the princess’ friend.” G and I exchanged a significant glance. Later, Guppy asked why there were two stories in the movie, (the grandfather and the princess.) And I was worried he wouldn’t like the movie.

At dinner, I reheated some frozen mac and cheese for the boys. Drake looked at it suspiciously. “Is this new, or leftover? I won’t eat leftover.”

“New,” I lied, knowing it was close enough, as I’d added extra butter.

“I’m not eating it,” Drake announced. “It’s not new.”

The down side to having a discriminating child.

Recommended briefly at Entertainment Weekly and by M, who blogs at Mental Multivitamin, Hell is Other Parents by Deborah Copaken Kogan seemed like it would be a good, quick, funny read. For the most part, it is. Kogan’s essays detail some of her clashes with other parents, who at least behave very badly, if not perhaps hellaciously. One father tells her to watch her daughter more carefully. Kogan’s teenage postpartum hospital roommate won’t turn down the TV, get rid of her guests, or throw away the McDonald’s bags that are stinking up the room. A mother spreads gossip about Kogan’s daughter to other parents at school. At other times, Kogan imagines other parents are judging and disparaging her parenting choices, as when her toddler son Leo disrupts the play her older son is in:

The other parents in the room now clearly hate me. They glare at me and roll their collective eyes. What business does she have bringing a two-year-old to a performance? their pursed mouths ask. Does she realize how long it took us to get here? For that matter, what business does she have having one in diapers while the other two are going through adolescence? What’s wrong with her? What was she thinking? Okay, so maybe I’m just projecting those last three thoughts.

Maybe? I think she’s projecting not just those three, but most of the paragraph, and highlighting some tenets of parenting (and really, life in general): it’s really hard; choices are fraught; some people are jerks; others offer needed help.

Kogan is witty and her observations are sharp. She writes clearly and sympathetically of the challenges of parenting and being a working mom. She doesn’t hide her insecurities about things like her parenting decisions, the less than thorough decision making that went into conceiving her third child, and her constant worries about money as a mother of three living in NYC who makes her living as a freelance writer. But she doesn’t seem to have much insight about these, either. For example, I found it interesting that a woman who was upset when chided by her college roommates as being too concerned with money (and specifically, its lack) chose a freelance career, and wrote a book in which she frequently refers to her fears and difficulties around money.

Few will argue with the real-life examples Kogan offers of mean other parents, and I bet many could respond with stories in kind; I know I could. But this book shines when it’s relating the events of a interesting woman (Kogan was a photographer and war correspondent in years past) as she tackles motherhood and challenges like a son who really wants to act and daughter who really wants a dog, both against their parents’ wishes. As for the hellish other parents of the title, I think they’re minor when compared to the complex, fascinating mess that is the whole of parenting, and of life.

Giles Turnbull, at The Morning News, on family Lego building:

Every family, it seems, has its own set of words for describing particular Lego pieces. No one uses the official names. “Dad, please could you pass me that Brick 2×2?” No. In our house, it’ll always be: “Dad, please could you pass me that four-er?”

And I’ll pass it, because I know exactly which piece he means. Lego nomenclature is essential for family Lego building.

I love the chart that compares what the different kids call each piece, and how they vary in right brain (Barney and Jem) and left braininess (Raimi and Max), which may correspond with the Brits and the Americans.

I asked 3yo Guppy what he called the pieces in the chart. He responded quickly: (nothing), holder, smoker, pusher, 3-line, axle, bottom, light, gun, high and (nothing). I’ll ask 6yo Drake after school.

The other night, 6yo Drake and 3yo Guppy took forever to fall asleep. When I checked on them before I went to bed, this is what I found:

The bottom bunk is Guppy’s; they’d fallen asleep while reading comics. I tried to remove the comics, figuring I’d leave Drake there to sleep. Unfortunately, Guppy woke. Also unfortunately, he’s going through another bout of 3-related insanity.

“Get Drake out! Get him out! OUT!” Screaming. Crying. Thrashing.

I managed to nudge Drake to consciousness, then put him on the ladder; he climbed to the upper bunk on autopilot. Guppy finally stopped screaming. He tried to shove the rest of the comics out of his bed; I hastily removed them to safety, and went to my own bed. A few minutes later, I heard Guppy again:

“I don’t WANT these friends!” This announcement was followed by a number of thumps as he threw the stuffed animals from his bed.

A little while later I heard him get up and go to the bathroom, then nothing more. I thought he’d gone back to bed and finally settled, but when my husband G. Grod came to the top of the stairs, Guppy was in the door to his room. He took one look at G and started to wail. He’d been standing in the hall, silent, trying unsuccessfully to get his pajamas back on. G helped him into them, and escorted him to bed. As per his usual, he insisted on the light staying on. After about ten minutes, I checked on him. He was asleep, for good this time, and I turned out the light.

Things ejected from Guppy’s bed:

Brothers: 1
Stuffed animals: 16
Comic books: 37

Inspired by the question posed by The Morning News about favorite books of childhood, and because I was too overwhelmed to send them my response, I dug through my kids’ shelves to unearth my copy of The Practical Princess by Jay Williams (better known as an author of the Danny Dunn series for children), illustrated by Friso Henstra.

This certainly was one of my favorite books as a girl, and is the one I choose as an adult because it’s entertaining and clever for all ages. Published in 1969, it’s now out of print. The princess of the title is a formidable heroine, and the main reason this book has endured in my affection:

Princess Bedelia was as lovely as the moon shining upon a lake full of waterlilies. She was as graceful as a cat leaping. And she was also extremely practical.

When she was born, three fairies had come to her cradle to give her gifts as was usual in that country. The first fairy had given her beauty. The second had given her grace. But the third, who was a wise old creature, had said, “I give her common sense.”

“I don’t think much of that gift,” said King Ludwig, raising his eyebrows. “What good is common sense to a princess? All she needs is charm.”

Nevertheless, when Bedelia was eighteen years old, something happened which made the king change his mind.

A dragon moved into the neighborhood.

Of course the dragon demands the princess as his due. How Bedelia responds to this dilemma is both laugh-out-loud funny and smart. When she is subsequently confronted with an unpleasant suitor, she also brings her wits and sense of humor to bear with excellent results.

The Practical Princess does a lot of things, and does them well. It turns fairy-tale tropes on their head, like the princess-demanding dragon, the ugly suitor, the difficult tasks, the suitor’s attempt to take what he cannot have, and a princely rescue. A more recent book, Princess Smarty-Pants, tried to do these same things, to worse effect, I thought. Bedelia is extremely likable, and an excellent role model for young girls, far superior to those namby-pamby Disney ones, who make me glad I have two boys and don’t have to fight against their encroaching influence. Also unlike those Disney damsels, Bedelia is not skinny with a Barbie-like bod. She wears a smashing orange empire-waist dress with pink boots, and could actually be pear shaped! Hensta’s illustrations are distinctive, a mixture of 60’s mod and cross-hatched detail, with brilliant colors that glow forty years on.

Keep an eye out for this treasure in library collections and used bookstores, especially if you suspect that the Disney-ification of the princess trope is as insidious as I think it is. I feel thrilled and fortunate to still have my childhood copy to share with my boys.

This weekend, my husband G. Grod took 6yo Drake and 3yo Guppy on a trip to Byerly’s, a local upscale grocery store. Inside, Drake complained it smelled bad and his stomach hurt. On the drive home, G. looked in the rear-view mirror. Drake turned pale, then threw up his breakfast.

Once home, a parental debate ensued. Was it a virus? His reaction to low blood sugar after mostly skipping supper the night before? The smell of the store? G. wasn’t sure about the third theory, but I think it might have been a combination of the latter two. I too have a sensitive schnoz, and Drake seems to have inherited it. Here are a things that make me feel as if I might lose my breakfast:

1. Scented laundry detergent, which I can smell as I walk by a house from their vent.
2. The smell of fried scrapple, which G. found at Byerly’s and cooked this morning for brekkie.
3. Most scented candles.
4. The smell of a Subway sandwich shop.
5. The smell of whatever onion dish they were making in my grocery coop’s deli last weekend.

Confronted with these, I breathe through my mouth. Perhaps that’s why I lose my breakfast less often than Drake does.

We’ve had cooler autumn temperatures this week, so 3.5yo Guppy wore jeans to preschool. The combination of long pants, sneakers with socks, and the ball cap made him look very big-boyish. Several people wondered if he’d gotten taller.

The next day when he picked out his own outfit–plaid madras shorts and a clashing-colored striped shirt–he looked again like his 3yo self.

Today was 3yo Guppy’s first day of preschool. It was a “soft” opening, for only 90 minutes and with a parent. Tomorrow is the full 2:45 length and they say goodbye to parents, so I’ll see how that goes.

Earlier at 11 CST, I turned on CNN to watch President Obama’s speech to students. Guppy protested. “Turn this off!” he hollered.

“It’s about school,” I replied. “You start school today.”

“No!” Guppy said. “He (the president) said KINDERGARTEN! Not preschool!”

Already with the loopholes. Sheesh.

6yo Drake, off to the bus for his first day of kindergarten. He seemed excited; I felt both excited and fearful–a typical parental emotional combo.

You know that experience when you read something, and it’s like the author peeked into your head? I had that today.

From “Neurodiversity and Fandom” by Jason Henninger at Tor.com. (Link via The Morning News.)

School is starting up soon. My son used to attend a preschool/kindergarten for special-needs kids and their siblings, and now he’s going on to a public school, though still in the special education program. He’s cool with it, but I am a little freaked. It has brought up a whole childhood can of worms regarding my less-than-lovely educational experience, and makes me reflect on issues of social acceptance for neurologically atypical people overall.

Apart from the bit about a preschool for special-needs kids, I could have written this paragraph, because I’ve certainly been thinking and feeling it. My son, 6yo Drake, was given an education label last year of autism spectrum disorder. He’d been having some trouble at preschool, like not participating in music, which prompted us to get an evaluation. The public-school team was quick to note this didn’t mean he “had” autism–that would be a medical diagnosis, and is a different evaluation path–just that he had some behaviors that would be helped by autism-related therapies or classes. Drake attended a communication class once a week, and had an occupational therapist and special ed teacher visit him in preschool. And over the next several months, his behavior and communication bloomed.

This year, he’s going to kindergarten. Only one school in our neighborhood is part of the citywide autism program, and it’s where we’ve been encouraged by his educational team to send him. Given our positive experience already, I’ve taken their advice. I’ll meet with that team tomorrow, when Drake and I go to visit the autism classroom, his kindergarten classroom, and meet his teachers. And on Thursday, he’ll get on the bus (the big one, not a short one like last year) and go to school.

My own public school experience was not good. I was a bored and frustrated student, and I struggled socially. (I suspect there are aspects of ADD and ASD in my own neurological makeup.) So I’m nervous about sending my kid to school, that he’ll feel as bad about it as I did. I feel guilty, too, at the relief I feel because he’s going to be at school all day, which will make my day less challenging.

But Henninger’s essay offers me a little hope. There’s a greater awareness of difference, and a greater understanding and acceptance of it. It’s not to say that the prejudice toward kids who are “a little different” won’t exist; it will. But it helps to be reminded that a lot of these kids are getting kinds of help that didn’t exist thirty-five years ago when I started kindergarten. Plus, Drake is not me. Similar, yes, but not the same.

I can only do what I have done already: make the best guess I can as to what’s best for Drake, give it a try, and make a new plan if it doesn’t work. Now, we wait and see. Involve ourselves as we can in his education. And hope.

My husband G. Grod doubted the wisdom of it, but I wanted to take 6yo Drake and 3.5yo Guppy to the MN State Fair on opening day, or “Thrifty Thursday.” Normally, I go to the fair on a compulsive food bender, so I knew if I was going by myself with the boys I’d have to make a new plan. That plan was to play it by ear and keep expectations low, and it worked pretty well. It’s a great day to go–the crowds are historically thin, the weather was sunny and not hot, it’s cleaner and less smelly earlier on, and there are discounts to get in and on kid rides.

Earlier this year, I bartered away our double stroller. We still have a wagon, and strollers can be rented at the fair, but I decided we’d only stay as long as the boys could walk. Seemed like a reasonable boundary. I set a budget of $60, figuring (or rather, hoping) about a third each for entry, rides and food. My food plan is to always order the smallest size, and share it.

We parked at the U and took a shuttle bus to the Gate 20 entry, where the discounted fee was $9 for me and $6 for Drake. Inside, we started with a pork chop on a stick, $6.50. The boys were suspicious, but quickly helped me devour it. We followed it up with a small order of Famous French Fries, $4.75, which I find good, but the fries are way too short. The boys loved dipping them first in the malt vinegar and then in the ketchup. I’d brought our Sigg bottle full of water so we didn’t have to buy any, and we moved on to the River Ride, which cost a whopping $3.50 per person, even for Guppy. I got almost completely soaked, and spent the next few hours looking as if I’d wet myself. Nice.

I tried to steer the boys up Underwood to the Food building and then to the kids rides and little farm hands. Drake insisted he wanted to go on the Sky Ride, so we followed it along the ground, got on and rode it back to the Ag building next to the food building–$6 for me and Drake, Guppy rode free. The boys, unlike their mother, were completely unafraid of heights and the bumps and shakes of the car.

At this point I’d deflected at least half a dozen requests for cotton candy, and was able to distract them by asking if they’d like Fried Cheese Curds. That got their attention. We entered the Food Building, saw our neighbor L and her twin sons, then moved quickly through the line at the Mouth Trap. The boys were frustrated at having to wait till the $5 curds cooled, but seemed to think it was worth it. We followed them with a bag of Tom Thumb mini donuts, $4, and we all three managed to save 2 to take home to Dad. Yay, us.

Outside, we got a small 1919 root beer, one of my favorite and least expensive fair treats, $1. Fully sugar-bombed, the boys wanted to head to the rides. We stopped by the Rainbow jungle-gym play area on the way, and saw friend N and her son S. The boys went down the slides again and again. Best of all? Free.

The kids rides, however, were decidedly not free, and even discounted used up a chunk of our budget–$9 for Drake to ride the swings and Guppy and him to ride the balloon ride. Guppy was visibly drooping, so I started herding the boys toward the bus. On the way, though, they said they were hungry again. I suggested a Pronto Pup, the batter-dipped and fried hot dog of MN origin. Drake insisted he wanted a corn dog. I foolishly barreled up to the next stand I saw and ordered a “small”.

“That’ll be $7,” the man said, holding out a double dog, since the stand only sold double and triples. While I fumed about breaking the budget and too much hot dog, Drake and Guppy methodically devoured the whole thing.

As we approached the exit, I asked again if the boys wanted to go in the baby animal barn; Drake had said no to it earlier, but was excited to see a newborn calf, alongside pigs and sheep and miniature ponies. I was able to herd them out of the barn and out of the fair to the bus by 2:00, 3 and a half hours after we got there, and $8.75 over my $60 budget. Guppy fell asleep on the car ride home, then I had to have a little nap when we got there.

I didn’t eat nearly the number of foods I normally do, but I knew I’d be going back on Tuesday 9/1 for Minnesota Cooks Day, so I didn’t fret. We ate, we walked, we did some free stuff, we rode some rides. None of us had a meltdown. Not only did we survive, we had a good time. I think we may have started a new family tradition.

For more on food at the Fair, visit local foodie site Heavy Table, where I’ve gotten a lot of tips on what to eat on my next trip.

My elder son, Drake, turned six last week. And no, I can’t say the time feels like its flown. Six years is a chunk of time, and he and I have both come a long way since his challenging birth and babyhood.

During his first year, Drake learned to crawl at six months, and to walk at ten months. He was eager to move on his own. Like most babies, he enjoyed his bouncy seat and being read to, with particular emphasis on the Boynton oeuvre. We lived in a one-bedroom condominium in downtown Minneapolis.

Just after Drake’s first birthday, we moved to a more family-friendly neighborhood in Minneapolis. He and I often went to the coffee shop and the park. We took him to the Convention Grill with our friends the Blogenheimers for his first burger, fries and banana sundae. He’s been a fan of all three ever since. He slept through the night as soon as he got his own room, and in a few months began napping for hours. Slow to talk, Drake called cats “beows” but eventually had a language explosion and learned all the makes of cars in addition to his letters and numbers. By the end of this year, he was making up songs like “Hyundai, Hyundai, Hyundai, the H is falling down!” and “Honda, Honda, Honda, the H is falling up!”

By Drake’s 2nd birthday, we’d found friends and other kids in the neighborhood and through Moms Club and Minnesota’s excellent Early Childhood Family Ed program. He loved trains, cars and his stuffed animal friends. Much to my dismay, Drake stopped napping. At 2 and a half, he became a big brother when Guppy was born. He took this mostly in stride, and discovered that adults were pleased when he patted Guppy’s head gently.

Just after Drake turned three, he started preschool at a nearby park. He loved playing with the remote control for our stereo at home, and listening to different music. Some of his favorite CDs were DJ Shadow and Fat Boy Slim. When Guppy learned to crawl, Drake suddenly realized things were going to change and became very territorial. This was a year of much screaming; they were like grenades that set each other off. Drake still liked to pat Guppy though, and there’s a very cute picture of Guppy with sugar on his head after Drake had mini donuts at the State Fair that year. Our family started to go to Punch pizza and Big Brain Comics every Wednesday, a ritual that Drake loved.

After Drake turned four, he started a different preschool, which he liked a great deal. He learned about planets and dinosaurs, and to write his name. Midway through the year, after I’d suspected it for a while, I knew he’d learned to read. We were at Barnes and Noble Har Mar when he suddenly said, “Cash for Books, Mom!” I looked around, then up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there was the sign he’d just read. Drake’s favorite things were calculators and watches with timers. He rarely left the house without one of these. His favorite toys were marble paths. He loved watching videos on Youtube, particularly of something called “parcour” or free running. He became very good and very fast at riding his tricycle.

When Drake turned five, he discovered the rides at the State Fair, and loved the ones that were fast and high. He tried his first cotton candy, and had his annual Pronto Pup. He started circus school and soccer classes and had fun at both of them. We opted for another year of preschool instead of kindergarten, and were glad we did. A group from the Minneapolis Public Schools evaluated him at preschool and found he was on the autism spectrum. I told him this meant that his brain worked differently from other people’s–for example, he was good with numbers and reading, but not always so good with words. He worked with several different teachers over the months and made a lot of new friends and learned a lot of new things. Drake’s favorite day was Friday, when he could make a mix CD. He’s getting much better at some of the basics, but still tends to like long songs and multiple songs by one band, like Rush. Drake started riding his green bike, but wasn’t ready to take the training wheels off. He loved building series of Hot Wheels stunts and setting the cars in motion. In the spring, our family traveled to Florida, where Drake got dunked a few times in his excitement to be in a pool. During the summer he took swim lessons. Even though he had trouble putting his head under water, he made a lot of progress, and tried very hard for his teachers. He also did summer camp at a local park, and had a great time. After years of picky eating, Drake finally began trying new foods, like salad and tacos and spaghetti. He’s still finicky, but has made a lot of progress and discovered that he loves edamame.

Now at six we’re preparing for this year’s trip to the State Fair, and Drake starts full-day kindergarten next week. He’ll continue with circus, soccer, and making mix CDs. He loves the shows Animalia and Fetch with Ruff Ruffman on PBS, and reading comics to himself. He doesn’t like to walk places, and complains when I make him, but loves to ride the bus. What will the rest of this year bring, I wonder? I look forward to finding out.

(OK readers, this should have bigger, more detailed photos. They’re from facebook, though, so they won’t get past a work firewall; sorry!)

Sometimes, I wonder why I try. G Grod mentioned he’d like to make pizza. I found a recipe in Cook’s Country, used it as an excuse to finally buy myself a set of 9″ pie pans, and we made this:

Drake loved it and ate three pieces. Guppy wouldn’t eat it at all. I may try again without pepperoni, but making yeast pizza dough from scratch is an undertaking.

Pepperoni Pan Pizza from Cook’s Country
Makes two 9-inch pizzas serving 4 to 6

Dough
1/2 cup olive oil
3/4 cup skim milk plus 2 additional tablespoons, warmed to 110 degrees
2 teaspoons sugar
2 1/3 cups all-purpose flour , plus extra for counter
1 package instant yeast
1/2 teaspoon table salt

Topping
1 (3.5-ounce) package sliced pepperoni
1 1/3 cups tomato sauce (see related recipe, “Basic Pizza Sauce”)
3 cups shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese

1. To make the dough: Adjust oven rack to lowest position and heat oven to 200 degrees. When oven reaches 200 degrees, turn it off. Lightly grease large bowl with cooking spray. Coat each of two 9-inch cake pans with 3 tablespoons oil.

2. Mix milk, sugar, and remaining 2 tablespoons oil in measuring cup. Mix flour, yeast, and salt in standing mixer fitted with dough hook. Turn machine to low and slowly add milk mixture. After dough comes together, increase speed to medium-low and mix until dough is shiny and smooth, about 5 minutes. Turn dough onto lightly floured counter, gently shape into ball, and place in greased bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and place in warm oven until doubled in size, about 30 minutes.

3. To shape and top the dough: Transfer dough to lightly floured counter, divide in half, and lightly roll each half into ball. Working with 1 dough ball at a time, roll and shape dough into 9 1/2-inch round and press into oiled pan. Cover with plastic wrap and set in warm spot (not in oven) until puffy and slightly risen, about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, heat oven to 400 degrees.

4. While dough rises, put half of pepperoni in single layer on microwave-safe plate lined with 2 paper towels. Cover with 2 more paper towels and microwave on high for 30 seconds. Discard towels and set pepperoni aside; repeat with new paper towels and remaining pepperoni.

5. Remove plastic wrap from dough. Ladle 2/3 cup sauce on each round, leaving 1/2-inch border around edges. Sprinkle each with 1 1/2 cups cheese and top with pepperoni. Bake until cheese is melted and pepperoni is browning around edges, about 20 minutes. Remove from oven; let pizzas rest in pans for 1 minute. Using spatula, transfer pizzas to cutting board and cut each into 8 wedges. Serve.

Our box from our Community Supported Agriculture share had yellow squash and beets. It’s was nearing the end of the week, so I steamed the former, roasted the latter, then pureed

to make the Yellow Cake with Raspberry Swirl from Jessica Seinfeld’s Deceptively Delicious.

I added cream cheese frosting and fresh berries.

The kids were not fooled. The raspberry puree, while lovely, did not disguise the flavor of the beets enough. It got more pronounced after baking. So the boys wouldn’t eat this. Note to self: beets are not disguise-able. If I’d just made the yellow cake with squash I think that would’ve worked.

Then I found myself with leftover lemon cream cheese frosting. What to do; what to do?

And since the boys didn’t eat the cake, I didn’t bother to offer them these.

Mine. All mine.

Readers, and please de-lurk if you’re lurking, do you like the posts on food? I’ve been posting the food on my Facebook page, then again here since it’s such a big part of our summer. But the links and images are work-intensive, so I can skip it if interest is low. Also, I can make photos bigger, so more detailed, though I’ve not done so because they’d take more time to load on screens.

I did not make those. They’re by Sheela from Miel y Leche and came from Mitrebox, on a cupcake Saturday. That’s a blackberry-lime vegan cake and a s’mores cake. The former was good, the latter was tremendous. You can sign up to receive email for the weekly flavors. This week’s are Grilled Peach Mint, Chocolate Curry with Lemongrass Coconut Buttercream and Limoncello.

These bacon-cheese cups were a request by 5yo Drake, who along with 3yo Guppy made them with G. Grod while I went to yoga class. They’re from the Southern Living Kids Cookbook, a gift from the boys’ uncle, and Drake’s current obsession.

Red salad, with WI cherry tomatoes, strawberries, basil, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and WI parmesan. Salad #13 from Mark Bittman’s 101 Salads.

Homely, but tasty and exceptionally healthy and hearty. From Mark Bittman, a savory breakfast: Barley, coconut, oat bran and fried tofu, with soy sauce, toasted sesame oil and fish sauce, topped with a fried egg.

For National Night Out last night, I made a Carrot Cake (lots of carrots to use up this week). The recipe is from Cook’s Illustrated. I added a teaspoon of cardamom, to good effect, I thought.

And I used up almost all of last week’s CSA veg in a variation on Heather’s Quinoa Salad from 101 Cookbooks. I used pearled barley instead of quinoa, added grated carrot and used chopped zucchini instead of corn.

From this week’s kitchen.

Salad #7 from Mark Bittman’s Minimalist article 101 Simple Salads for the Season

1 lb. carrots, peeled then shredded
2 Tbl. EVOO
1/2 Tbl. lemon juice
1 pint fresh blueberries, rinsed and sorted
1/4 c. toasted pepitas (I had these in the pantry so used them instead of sunflower seeds)

Salad #14 A Moroccan Thing (at left below, next to the finished Shredded Green Beans, recipe after next)

1 lb. carrots, peeled and shredded
2 Tbl. EVOO
1/2 Tbl. lemon juice
1/4 tsp. cumin
1/4 c. golden raisins

Mix olive oil, lemon juice and stir in cumin. Add raisins to carrots, pour dressing and toss.

From Heidi Swanson’s Super Natural Cooking

Shredded Green Beans

3/4 lb. green and/or yellow beans, tops and tails trimmed
2 Tbl. EVOO or clarified butter
2 Tbl. water
grated zest of 1 lemon
grated zest of 1 lime
1/4 c. chopped fresh chives
fine-grain sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Slice beans on a diagonal into roughly 1/8″ pieces. Heat olive oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the beans and stir until coated with oil, then add the water. Cover and cook 2 or 3 minutes, until the beans are brightly colored and tender; give the pan a good shake midway through to ensure even cooking. Remove from the heat and stir in the zests and half of the chives. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve garnished with the remaining chives.

I had chard stems left after I used the leaves in a soup. I had shredded raw beets after I used some in Bittman’s Salad #43 from 101 Salads. I combined these in Bittman’s More-Vegetable-Than-Egg Frittata, which was delicious, though less lovely than the chopped chard stems, thus no picture.

All the above veg are from our CSA share from Foxtail Farm. I bought some local fruit from our grocery cooperative, Eastside Food Coop and did a loose variation on Mark Bittman’s Patchwork Foolproof Pie with pluots and raspberries.

It was a stunningly red and bubbled fiercely when I took it out of the oven. I served it with Sonny’s Pure Vanilla Bean ice cream.

While I was making the latter, G. Grod and the boys were in the backyard, watering. 5yo Drake was taking his turn with the hose when I said it was time to come in for dessert. Drake didn’t listen when G. repeated this, and turned the hose on G and the house. We told him he couldn’t have dessert. He expressed his displeasure with a lengthy tantrum, and by making an “I am Stupid” sign he taped to G’s back. (With G’s knowledge. Drake isn’t all that subtle.)

Saturday, Foxtail Farm (from which we get a CSA) had a Kids Day and potluck lunch. The boys got to pick potatoes, carrots and green beans and feed cows, chickens and goats:

I used light colored Rainier-like cherries from Door County WI:

to make Cherry Slab Pie from Smitten Kitchen. I used 2/3 c. sugar since the cherries were sweet. It turned out well; I’d definitely make it again.