Girl Detective

5yo Drake continues to oppose the bike we got him A YEAR AGO and is content to excel at the trike. One of his preschool cohorts made fun of him yesterday, and he didn’t notice:

Boy: Drake, YOU ride a TRICYCLE?!

Drake: Yeah!

3yo Guppy is practicing his soccer ball handling, unaware that the trike should be his.

It was a lovely walk, about 7 blocks (.7 miles, I think) kicking and pedaling.

I just found a new home for our double stroller. If things keep up, the boys won’t miss it.

I had to ask my 5yo son Drake this morning how to review pictures on our digital camera.

He showed me two ways to do it.

Last night when I went into 5yo Drake and 3yo Guppy’s room to turn out the light before 11, Drake was still awake, though punchy. (Damn you, Daylight Savings Time!) He was on the bottom bunk, Guppy’s bed, using the pillow at the top to prop up books while poor sleeping Guppy was curled up sideways at the end of his bed.

“Time for bed,” I said in my best Voice of Authority.

“But, Mom,” he said, pointing to a page in Richard Scarry’s Best Storybook Ever.

“What is it?” I asked.

“How many is this?” he said, gesturing to the illustration of a group of wives, cats and kits in sacks coming from St. Ives.

“It doesn’t matter. Bed.” I said, trying to maintain the VoA in spite of rising frustration and desire to get into my own bed.

“But, Mom. How many?” He was plaintive.

I tried to wiggle out by spoiling the punchline. “One. Only one is going to St. Ive’s. All those cats are coming FROM St. Ives.”

Drake kept woozily pointing at the page. “But seven cats, and sacks, and kits…”

“A lot,” I snapped. “There are a lot, and I’d need a calculator, and I don’t have one. Get off Guppy’s bed. Get in your own.”

“I want to figure it out,” he begged.

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow. Get in bed.”

Finally, he listened and did what I said. I moved Guppy back to his pillow, then left the room.

The next morning, in typical fashion, Drake shoved a calculator and the book at me. I shoved the calculator back.

“OK, One man. Plus 7 wives. Plus seven wives times seven sacks times seven cats. Plus seven wives, times seven sacks, times seven cats times seven kits. Hit equals. What do you get?”

(I didn’t think we should count the sacks, only the man, his wives, the cats and the kits.)

He showed me the display with a grin. Two thousand seven hundred fifty two, he crowed. Finally satisfied, he went on to play with Legos.

So there you are, folks. If your kid ever holds you hostage at 11pm and won’t get off his sibling’s bed, you’ll know the answer to how many are coming from St. Ives. 2,752.

You’re welcome.

(If you’re going to verify my math, be sure you have a calculator that does order of operations. You remember: MDAS, My Dear Aunt Sally Multiplication and Division first, then Addition and Subtraction. Don’t know how to tell? Key in 2 + 3 X 2. A good calculator will give you 8. A cheap one will give you 10.)

My kids are prone to barfing. They’re not only susceptible to whatever stomach virus might be running around, but if they skip dinner (which they periodically do, in protest of my healthy, whole-food meals) their blood sugar drops so far that they throw up the first thing they eat in the morning.

After the latest virus visited now-3yo Guppy and 5yo Drake, I joked I was an expert at the barfing protocol. “What’s that?” someone asked. I learned what to do from the handbook my pediatrician gave at the first visit. Once I got the hang of it, I appreciated how effective it was–it limits the duration of the bout to about 6 or 8 hours. Those 6 to 8 hours are yucky ones, but much better than if they’d lasted 12 to 24, which is common when fluids and food are given too soon.

1. Wait ONE HOUR after vomiting before offering fluids. Sooner, and it will come right back up.

2. Start with small, frequent sips of clear liquids, no more than 1 ounce every 30 to 60 minutes. It’s tempting to give kids as much as they want; this will only lead to further vomiting. As hard as it is, limit the amount and speed of what they drink as best you can. I set a timer in the kitchen, so the kids can count down. It lessens (somewhat) the whining, pleading, and arguing. Give water, Pedialyte, Gatorade, white-grape juice, lemon-lime soda or ginger ale. Growing up, my parents would give us Jello water–one packet in twice the amount of water called for. Try to avoid things sweetened with high-fructose corn syrup, though, as it’s been shown to contain mercury.

3. Once vomiting has stopped for 3 or 4 hours, you can increase the amount of fluids.

4. After 8 hours, you may begin a bland diet: bananas, rice, applesauce, toast, crackers, clear soups. Continue to serve tummy friendly foods for 24 hours after last vomiting.

Susan Meddaugh’s Martha Speaks and its sequels became the basis for the current PBS Kids show–one of the better ones that’s more watchable for parents, in my opinion. Our family discovered the TV show first, then sought out the books from our library. Thus far, 5yo Drake and 3yo Guppy have enjoyed Martha Blah Blah, Martha Calling, though they don’t like Martha Walks the Dog, which has a mean, big dog. But we all enjoy Perfectly Martha, my favorite.

Martha is a dog who learns to speak English after she eats alphabet soup and the letters go to her brain. When a shifty man comes to town and promises dog owners he can train the pets to be perfect pups in a day, Martha is suspicious.

“Hmmmph!” Martha said to Skits. “Dogs are perfect already.”

Clever Martha figures out the scam, and goes about fixing things in her own talkative, assertive manner. She is a charming, capable heroine, and this book seems especially aimed at dog owners who love their pets, quirks and all. My sister Sydney would love it.

I can’t remember where I first came across a recommendation for Holly Keller’s Farfallina and Marcel, but it’s 3yo Guppy’s current favorite book. A caterpillar named Farfallina and a gosling named Marcel become friends, then are separated one day:

But one day Farfallina was not herself.

I’m not sick,” she told Marcel,

“just a little uncomfortable.

I need to climb up onto a branch and rest for a while.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Marcel called

as Farfallina made her way up the tree.

Marcel does wait, but as most parents know, Farfallina isn’t coming down immediately; there is a note at the beginning about metamorphosis. Marcel eventually gives up and returns to his pond. Farfallina wakes and looks for Marcel, but he is gone. The friends are sad at the loss, and don’t even recognize each other when they do meet again, though they eventually discover the truth.

Keller’s watercolors are simple and lovely, perfectly suited to this sweet, engaging tale of friendship that survives through change.

The New York Times had a recent article in its books section on number books for kids, and they highly recommended One Boy by Laura Vaccaro Seeger. At 5, my number-loving son Drake is perhaps a little old for it, but he and 3yo Guppy both love it.

One Boy is an illustrated counting-to-ten book, with die-cut pages that show words within words, e.g., “ONE Boy. AlONE.” and small pictures within larger ones. It has a clever, surprise ending and is overall quite charming. I will likely be getting this for our library at home, since our local branch doesn’t have its own copy. I’ll be seeking out Seeger’s other books, too.

said Mary Lucia, after 5yo Drake told her his favorite band was Rush, at today’s Rock the Cradle event. We got the kids out of the house and to a variety of activities at a free event on a super-cold day. I love it when a plan comes together.

We went three years ago, pre-Guppy with then-2.5yo Drake. It was super crowded, and not so much fun; he didn’t want to do much. This year, though, both boys had a great time. They enjoyed the disco and the instrument room. Guppy liked family yoga with me, and Drake liked being interviewed “on air” by Mary. There were more events and bigger spaces than in previous years, so it was manageable, though still crowded. It was a good reminder that just because something doesn’t work once with the kid(s) doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try again.

My husband G. Grod is an Eagles fan. He was in a bad mood for most of the early football season, and a risingly good one towards the end. Each year, Drake and Guppy (now 5 and almost-3yo, respectively) are able to watch a little more of the game. Drake, ever oppositional, learned this year that it annoyed G. to cheer for the Eagles’ opponent. A low point for G. was when Drake cried after a spectacular Brian Westbrook touchdown.

Strange consequences of football watching have developed though, some more concerning than others. Two seasons ago, Drake was terrified of a rock-em, sock-em robot commercial, which I think was for some brand of truck. He would shriek, throw himself to the ground in a tantrum, and take a long time to calm. This season, it’s amusing how Drake re-enacts things that happen to him in slow motion. I’m not sure if it’s amusing when he insists that Bud Light is a good beer, or wants me to look up Ford F150 trucks and iPods at amazon to put on his wish list.

I just hope he doesn’t start talking about erectile dysfunction.

This week’s creative mess from the kids came when I went outside to shovel snow. I was hopeful that they’d play together. Instead, I returned to find Drake nervously smiling. He told me to look in our pantry. I steeled myself for an avalanche of flour or cereal, but what I found was much worse. He’d found the baking oil spray can, and sprayed everything he could reach with it–all the cereal, fruit, cans, flatware, cabinets, and little brother 2yo Guppy. I yelled. And yelled. Then managed to get him to help clean up.

Yet really, who can I blame but me? I wanted to shovel the snow before dark. I took a risk, and Drake acted according to his curious, mischievous 5yo nature. Coulda been worse. It wiped up and cleaned off fairly easily. I ran the flatware through the dishwasher, and the boys through the bath. The squash still look a little shiny, and the cereal boxes speckled, but otherwise, we’re OK. Next time, though, I’m not leaving them inside, alone. They’re coming outside with me, subzero temperatures be damned.

5yo Drake and I were walking home in a cold but lovely twilight last week. I saw and star and pointed it out to him, then taught him the rhyme:

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.

He thought for a moment, asked to hear the “lyric” again, then said it and I told him to whisper a wish and not tell me, and maybe it would come true.

The next day, he repeatedly ran into the living room, looked around and announced, “Nope, my wish isn’t here yet.”

I assured him that wishes didn’t always happen, but they were fun to think about. Then I thought for a moment.

“Drake, did you wish that a Hot Wheels Triple Stunt Starter Set would appear on the toy table?”

Drake stared at me, frowned, then yelled, “You knew my wish!”

Much as I’d like to claim clairvoyance, he’s been talking about this toy since he got the Hammer and Hoop set in November, and he was disappointed not to receive it at Christmas. It wasn’t a great intuitive leap.

He saw a star again last night, and wished for something new. “It’s BIG, Mom!”

Today he’s mentioned it a few times, even moving toys around to create space for it.

I’m afraid to guess. I hope it’s not a puppy. Or a sibling.

In his essay, “Kids’ Stuff” from the collection Maps and Legends, Michael Chabon notes that comics as an art form has gained credibility but lost readers:

Days when comics aimed were [sic] at kids: huge sales. Days when comics are aimed at adults: not so huge sales, and declining. (p. 90)

Children did not abandon comics; comics, in their drive to attain respect and artistic accomplishment, abandoned children. (p. 91)

Chabon offers a number of suggestions to rebuild the legacy of comics for kids. While the number of monthly comic books for kids, especially younger ones, is small, there are a few standouts, as well as other comics to be found for kids at the comic store. Until the selection of comics swings back in favor of the kids as Chabon would like, here are a few of our family favorites:

Bone by Jeff Smith
The Adventures of Polo and Polo: the Runaway book by Regis Faller
Chicken and Cat, and Robot Dreams, by Sarah Varon
Silly Lilly and the Four Seasons by Agnes Rosenthiel
Jack and the Box by Art Spiegelman

Over at Game Theorist, Joshua Gans writes about the Slate article, “Reading isn’t Fundamental.” Gans believes the article starts well, by noting the concern some parents have seeing other kids read before theirs do. He thinks the article does well to point out that reading is a learned, unnatural skill with many variables. The Slate article, though, goes on to offer suggestions on teaching kids to read, a gaffe Gans adroitly points out:

one would think that the Slate article might be a call for rationality and an alleviation of blame. No such luck. Right away it falls into a standard trap: children learn to read at different rates (a good true fact) and if parents are worried here is a thousand things you can do to overcome it (a bad conclusion).

Gans makes the sharp and useful distinction between reading and communication:

The issue is not ‘love of books’ but ‘love of communication’ and reading is just a part of that. You need to read to communicate in society and that is the primary consideration.

My own anecdotal experience backs up his analysis. 5+yo Drake has been reading for about a year, but his early reading is not reflective of his communication skills; in fact, they seem to be inversely related. His communication skills right now, especially with peers and in periods of stress and transition, are relatively delayed, and this has resulted in difficulties both at home and at preschool.

I echo Gans’ conclusion to other parents. Don’t push early reading or be overly impressed by it, since it may in fact run counter to the more useful and important skills of general communication. I’d go further to say that playing with kids (something I’m not good at) is likely to be better for development than reading to them (something I do all the time).

Here’s some of what was under the tree for 5yo Drake and nearly 3yo Guppy this year:

325 Knex
100 Lincoln Logs
48-piece giant Tyrannasaurus Rex puzzle
48-piece giant Fairy Tale Castle puzzle
24-piece Giant Fire Truck puzzle
36-piece Pirate puzzle
68-piece Lego Building Toy set
82-piece Lego Rebel Scout Speeder

Total: 731 pieces (I fear for the future. Will we break 1000 next year?)

I am thankful that my thoughtful in-laws took some time on Christmas Eve to thin out the boys’ toys so there’d be room for the new ones. The boys didn’t even notice anything was gone. I’ve already had to do several search and rescue missions for missing pieces–some of the Knex are really tiny! Those were a favorite with all the boys: Drake, Guppy, dad G. Grod, Uncle P, and Grampa,

2yo Guppy, crying. I wake, and stumble into his room.

Guppy wails, “I can’t see anything!”

I respond, “That’s ’cause it’s night time, honey. Night is dark.”

He pleaded for a dimmed light; I didn’t feel up to protesting.

On seeing that our new 16 month calendar started with September 2008.

Drake: We have to fast-backward the world.
(This took a while for me to figure out he meant rewind.)
Me: Only Superman can do that, honey.
Drake pauses, thinks: Is Superman real?
G. Grod: Sorry, bud. He’s a story.

Upon learning that the Hot Wheels set he wanted cost $20, more than he had in his piggy bank.

Drake: I need a money Halloween so I can buy the Triple Stunt Starter Set.
Me: Money Halloween?
Drake: Yeah, I go to the houses and instead of candy they give me money.
Me: Sorry, there’s no such thing as money Halloween. Try writing to Santa.

When 2yo Guppy wouldn’t play tackle.

Drake: Mom, we need a new child.
Me, laughing.

I hate parenting books. The last thing I want to do after an exhausting day parenting my energetic, needy boys is read about parenting. I want a break! Television, movies and reading for pleasure suit that need much better.

Yet I am far from a perfect parent to 5yo Drake and 2yo Guppy, so I feel guilty about not reading the books. I know I’ve got much to learn, but I rebel against the books, whose advice I find hard to follow and not always applicable. At a recent playdate, a friend noticed my boys’ oppositional behavior, and suggested Supernanny. Why not, I thought, worn down by the boys and their frequent fighting, both with me and with each other. I got the book from the library. Three weeks went by. I renewed it. Another three weeks went by. I renewed it again. Finally I read it.

It’s easy to read, with pictures, big type size and a truly useful set of sections on typical problem areas like eating, playing with others, and bedtime. It is basic, and perhaps more focused on parent guidance than on child nurturing. But I am taking away a few pieces of advice, so it was time well spent.

On the futility of reasoning with toddlers:

Reasoning, pleading, bargaining, threatening–none of these work with [toddlers]. For these strategies to work, your child would need mental powers she just does not yet have. (p.32)

It’s okay to offer a toddler a choice between two acceptable alternatives. But offering a toddler lots of choices tells him that you don’t know what you’re doing–otherwise, why are you asking?–and that therefore he’s the boss. (p. 50)

Small children will always win [in these situations] because they don’t really understand what a bargain or a promise is all about. What you’re dangling in front of them in the form of a treat is just too tempting, and they will try their utmost to get it right now. And what you see as a trade-off, she sees as a rule that keeps changing–which, as everyone knows, is a rule that isn’t really a rule at all and doesn’t have to be followed. (p. 71)

On involving kids with daily tasks:

Small children need attention. When they don’t get it, they act up. The trouble is that there simply aren’t enough hours in the day for you to give your toddler the attention he wants and deal with everything else as well. When you have two or more kids, short of cloning yourself, you have to think of ways around the problem. (p. 77)

And some helpful advice I’m going to try, like earlier mealtimes for the kids, who tend to be hungry at 10:30 and 4:30, not noon and 6:30. And staggered bedtimes, so each boy can have a little one on one time before bed–kids aren’t the only ones who can use “divide and conquer” to their advantage. Heh, heh.

Everyone knows the phrase “terrible twos.” As with much of parenting, though, it didn’t become clear what it meant until I was in the midst of it.

Two is when kids start to push back. Previously biddable kids suddenly take to “No!” like it’s the only word in the world. I find it’s the concrete examples, though, that really show the terribleness:

It’s time to change Guppy’s diaper. I pull one from the stack. He says no, he doesn’t want the green dog. I show him purple cat, magenta dog, blue dog with pencil and blue dog with wrenches ; we’re out of blue dog painting, since he’s been demanding those. Irony is that he can’t even see the diaper design once it’s on. He throws a fit, and is big and fast enough to run away, twist away, kick at me and take the green dog diaper off. I’ve zigged, he’s zagged, finally I have to zog. What if we put on the diaper after a book? Suddenly, he’s reasonable again. “I yuv you, mom,” he says, hugging me.

Guppy wants yogurt for breakfast. I take out the yogurt, a bowl and a spoon, and start to put the yogurt in the bowl. Guppy screams; he wanted to do it. I offer it to him. He refuses and continues to tantrum. It’s already begun; I’ve ruined it. I rinse out the bowl. He cries that the bowl is wet. I dry it. He spoons up the yogurt, then cries because the spoon is dirty. I rinse it off. He cries because it’s wet. I dry it off, and he finally begins to eat, about ten minutes after this all started.

Terrible? Insane is more like it. And as everyone knows, three is worse. Can’t wait.

From the archives, 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, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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. 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.

We live in Minnesota. I have one son in preschool, and one in daycare. Virus season lasts from September to April. We’ve already gone a few rounds, but the current virus is the worst yet. After some online research, I set off to the grocery cooperative to stock up on remedies.

This article, “10 Ways to Boost Immune Health” recommended vitamin C. I got lemons, satsumas and kiwis. It warned against caffeine and sugar, but encouraged sleep, protein, and moderate outdoor exercise.

This article, “How to Treat the Common Cold with Traditional Chinese Medicine” distinguished between colds caused by “wind cold” and “wind heat”. For heat-related symptoms, it recommends Yin Qiao. It also warns against caffeine, and sugar, plus ginseng.

From “10 Best Cold and Flu Fighters“, recommendations for echinacea and andrographis, which I bought in liquid, Yin Chiao, astragalus and elderberry, which I got in pill form, plus my usuals of garlic and ginger, which I put in chicken broth and then pureed.

I took a round of all these that night, then chewed a clove of raw garlic, which caused me to vomit it all back up, then was more ill the next day. After much rest, I’m doing better, but 2yo Guppy is still having trouble, so we’re off to the pediatrician to rule out pneumonia.