A Sunny Day Chuckle

For any of you who don't know, though I suspect no one at this point, we are expecting an addition to our family in a few months. Extreme fatigue has been the name of the game for me lately and unfortunately that has meant not documenting any adventures. The following story occurred about a month ago. It is too good not to write down for posterity. However, if Edmund reads this in a few years it may just have to come down. There are no pictures, thank goodness, and after reading you'll understand why.

Edmund and I accompanied his friend Emma and her mom, Jennifer, to a park one day several weeks ago. Earlier in the day we had gone to visit some primates at the Duke Lemur Center. Afterwards the kids begged for time to simply run around. The day was absolutely beautiful. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the temperature peaked at 72 degrees. I even found myself talking as if summer were not far off, believing it truly were early spring and not late January. So of course we could not deny the children a frolic in the park.

It appeared everyone else in our town had the same idea as I had never before seen the park so crowded. There were at least 100 people, if not more, enjoying a day in the park. Jennifer and I stood talking as Edmund and Emma took turns climbing and sliding. Then out of the corner of my eye I spied a child relieving himself in an open, grassy area of the park. To my surprise and horror it was my child. I had asked Edmund multiple times before arriving at the park if he had needed to go potty, and he told me "no." When I finally got to my son I had no choice, but to let him finish. I asked him why he thought it was OK to go potty in the middle of the park. He said, "I chose a part with no people around." This was indeed the truth, but there was also no tree cover, so he was on display for all to see. I don't know how, but it honestly seemed like not a single person, except myself, witnessed the display. Warm weather it seems put the blinders on. All I have to say is "thank goodness."

What is Heartbreak?

A couple of evenings ago, Steven was reading to Edmund from his children's Bible. As he read the story of Joseph and his coat of many colors, Steven came upon the word heartbreak. Edmund asked, "Daddy, what is heartbreak?" Steven replied, "that's when something makes you really sad." Edmund looked up at Steven and said "when I cry because I miss my daddy, my heart breaks." Now doesn't this story just break your heart?

Big Boy School Update

Bilibo Play with a Friend

Edmund now has one full week of "big boy" school under his belt. He is transitioning better than I could have imagined. He has three "old" friends to pal around with in his new classroom. According to his teacher Ms. Katherine, he and one of his Infant/Toddler Site friends, Maya, are inseparable. The two of them didn't play much together in my classroom, but they must have realized they were in this thing together.

Ms. Katherine is amazing, but unfortunately I feel like I don't know what Edmund is doing most of the day. This is not because Katherine doesn't let me know. She writes emails and sends pictures like you wouldn't believe. It is simply that I went from knowing everything to knowing very little, and Edmund likes to shrug and say "I don't know," when asked about his day. Fortunately, I've gotten many reports that Edmund is as happy as can be when various parents and friends see him at the other site. He always seems to be having a great time at pick-up, so I can't complain too much.

Edmund and I have also started planning fun, healthy snacks to make at home, since he no longer gets an afternoon snack at school. Edmund is "so hungry" when I arrive at school, and waiting until we get home will just not do. He enjoys sitting on the bench outside the school and snacking. Sometimes he'll have his snack with his old pal, Rita. On Thursday, the two of them were jumping in the monkey grass after snack, and Edmund disturbed a nest of yellow jackets. It was then he had his initiation into the painful world of bee stings. Rita's mom was so helpful getting us something to put on the sting, but Edmund couldn't be calmed. We went to the hospital to see daddy, who gave us some ice, but the screams continued. In fact the screams continued for two hours. Edmund took a small break from his cries to let me know he wanted to read his Babybug magazine. In one story Kim and her bunny, Carrots, make cookies. I suggested we make our own cookies. Guess what? Making cookies is the ultimate bee sting cure, and we haven't heard about the stings since.

*Pictures courtesy Ms. Katherine :)

Stop the World, I Want To Get Off

Edmund Poses with His Gingerbread Masterpiece

After completing our gingerbread house this past Sunday (I know, we're a little behind the times), Edmund decided to start spinning. He spun around the kitchen until he could spin no more. When he stopped he looked up at Steven and said "Daddy the house is spinning." A few seconds later he said "Daddy you're spinning too." Oh, my silly child.

Edmund Searches for the Elusive Gingerbread Baby

Edmund and the Magical, Mystical Pumpkin

Pumpkin Cultivator Extraordinaire

A few weeks after we moved into our new house Steven noticed a very large vine slowly taking over our back yard. Steven became convinced we had pumpkins growing in our yard and began nurturing this vine. I was far from convinced. Because this vine appeared shortly after we had a ditch dug around the house for a french drain, I assumed the people who reseeded the yard mistakenly planted some foreign weeds instead of the grass seed most commonly used to reseed a yard. Nevertheless I let Steven carry on with the delusion, occasionally asking him to prune the vine when I began to fear the neighbors would report us to the homeowner's association.

As time went on I decided to "Google" pumpkin and squash leaves. I have very little knowledge of gardening, but from what I found online we most likely had some sort of squash growing in our back yard. Only time would tell what kind. On Sunday we finally got our answer. We indeed have pumpkins growing in our back yard. We have one small, hardy green pumpkin on the vine and three or four mini pumpkin sprouts.

Now during our afternoon yard play Edmund will frequently ask to touch the pumpkin. He gets a kick out of giving the pumpkin a quick pat, then giggles as he announces, "I touch it." After touching the pumpkin on Monday he discovered a bale of hay, again left by our french drain diggers, and began bouncing on it. This gave me a great idea. The Pattishalls are going to have their very own pumpkin patch this year. $5 gets you your pick of the finest pumpkins Durham has to offer followed by a frolic in a very filthy bale of hay. You think I'm kidding? Just wait until the goats arrive!

What Does Edmund's Mommy Do All Day?: Spends Too Much Time Analyzing His Books

This past week Edmund discovered Richard Scarry's book "What Do People Do All Day?" in the back of his closet bookshelf. He refers to it as "People Do All Day," and is more or less obsessed with the book. It's a long book and we have the abridged edition. I'd love to see what the unabridged edition is like. Reading this book is the closest we've come to chapter books. Edmund is especially taken with the "chapter" entitled "The Train Trip." He loves looking at the illustrations of Busytown critters engaged in a variety of antics. Edmund's developing sense of humor is never more evident than when he is looking at one particular picture. In this illustration a pig floats down a river following the hat that has toppled off his head. Edmund laughs uproariously every time we get to this page. I'm hoping years down the road I won't have to send my child to a counselor because he found this pig's misfortune laughable. I suppose I should count my blessings. We haven't reached potty humor yet!

One thing that struck me almost immediately about "What Do People Do All Day?" is how sexist the book is. The copyright date is 1968. Granted I wasn't around in that decade, but I was under the impression this was a time in America's history when feminism was coming to the forefront with a vengeance. In fact, my research on Scarry turned up the fact his wife was also a writer. Thus, I'm taken aback by the lack of female critters in Busytown's workforce. There is the occasional female secretary and nurse, but for the most part the role of women in Busytown is summed up by these two sentences, "Grocer Cat bought a new dress for Mommy. She earned it by taking such good care of the house."(Scarry, pg. 8). And as far as Scarry is concerned, mail carriers and firefighters don't exist. These professions are reserved for the menfolk.

Most of the "chapters" in "What Do People Do All Day?" chronicle "a day in the life" of the creatures of Busytown. The stories still hold up today, save for the lack of women role models. But I don't know what Scarry was thinking when he wrote "A Visit to the Hospital." Poor Bunny Abby. She has to have her tonsils taken out, so a very pregnant Mommy Bunny drops Abby off at the hospital and leaves. That's right. Mommy Bunny has better things to do with her time. Never mind her small child who is probably shaking in her rabbit feet at the thought of surgery and a hospital full of strange equipment. And what do you know? Mommy Bunny returns shortly thereafter to deliver the newest member of the bunny family. Perhaps Mommy Bunny would have been better off supporting little Abby in her time of need, seeing as she had to return to the hospital anyway. Who knows what these bunnies were thinking? Clearly they need a lesson or two in efficiency.

I certainly enjoyed Richard Scarry's books as a child and I've decided to let Edmund read and enjoy them too. At first when I noticed the sexism, my first inclination was to ban the book. He's a two year old who should see the sunny side of life. However, when I really reflected on this I found my reaction ridiculous. Many books we now read in high school English were banned, but now we read them and learn from them. I'm sure I might feel differently if say, Grocer Cat were running a drug house, but he's not. He's making an honest living running a grocery store. Some people may not agree with me, but I feel I can use this book to teach Edmund about how different people, or in this case, animals, can do a variety of things. It's a great spring board for conversation. Plus, if there's one thing this book has going it for it, it's diversity. Lion doctors operate on fluffy bunnies while dogs and cats work side by side in harmony. If that's not diversity I don't know what is.

Nice Guys Finish Quietly

Yesterday after breaking up yet another two year old squabble, my co-teacher Jennifer remarked "Isn't it funny that we're not born knowing how to share? We're social creatures after all."

At first I thought "great point", but the longer I thought about it I realized this isn't the case at all. When I first replied to Jennifer's comment I said, "Maybe we just haven't evolved quickly enough. I'm sure that in cavemen times it was survival of the fittest and every child for himself."

Jennifer replied "I suppose that's true."

After some more reflection I spoke up again. "Even as recently as several hundred years ago children were probably competing for food, so I suppose our species has a long way to go before evolution catches up to the cooperative societies we live in now."

As I watched little Janie (name changed to protect the innocent) happily play with the toy she had managed to hold on to, I decided to retract all my previous statements. "You know what? We still live in a society where people get to the top by being pushy and going after what they want. It's simply adults are generally more subtle about it than Janie and Susie over there. I'd really like more recognition and to make a bigger impact than I currently am, but sometimes it seems I'm just too nice."

Jennifer chimed in, "Why is it that we nice guys always finish last?."

"That's definitely how I'm feeling at the moment, " I said.

"Then I'm going to change that statement. Nice guys finish quietly."

In case you ever wonder what preschool teachers talk about in their few spare moments, now you know. I also have a new motto. Thank Jennifer.