I know that I'm supposed to have all the answers to my daughter's most perplexing questions. But really, they are getting increasingly difficult to answer. The latest question was regarding the specific habitat of turtles. I have no idea where turtles live and she was most adamant that they lived in caves. I'm really not sure. So I just agreed with her.
Well the only place I research anything is online. Here it goes - I'm going to search it right now and come up with a compelling answer.
[please hold....searching for "Where to turtles live?"]
Bingo!
There is a page that is called "Kids' Questions about Turtles". Could we get any more specific?
http://www.turtlepuddle.org/kidspage/questions.html
For the record...
Q: Where do turtles live?
A: Almost everywhere?
Ok, so there's like hundreds of types of turtles and they all live in their own specific environment. That still doesn't answer my question about caves. At least I got close.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
The real story of today
For the last couple of months, every night as part of our current bedtime routine, either myself of my husband have to tell my daughter 'a story'. Now this is not just any story, it is a detailed recap of the day's activities or the activities of another day in our lives.
Each story starts off the same, "One day there was a mommy and a daddy and a girl named Lia". Then we recount some fun activity like bike riding to Grandmas house, going to Centre Island, camping, visiting the market, all in very minute detail. Every time we hit on a good part in the story, we get an accompanying "yah!" and giggles of apprecation.
In addition, each evening we negotiate how many of these stories and how many of the subsequent songs are part of the aforementioned bedtime ritual. It goes something like this:
Me: "One story, one song"
Her: "Three stories, three songs"
Me: "Two stories, one song"
Her: "Three stories, three songs"
You can see how well a three year old negotiates. It usually ends up with at least three mini-stories, a handful of songs and more reasons why she still can't go to sleep. Drink. Pee. Cold feet. Drink (again). More stories. More songs.
Admittedly, it is fun. And it's another one of those things that will soon pass and I will miss.
Each story starts off the same, "One day there was a mommy and a daddy and a girl named Lia". Then we recount some fun activity like bike riding to Grandmas house, going to Centre Island, camping, visiting the market, all in very minute detail. Every time we hit on a good part in the story, we get an accompanying "yah!" and giggles of apprecation.
In addition, each evening we negotiate how many of these stories and how many of the subsequent songs are part of the aforementioned bedtime ritual. It goes something like this:
Me: "One story, one song"
Her: "Three stories, three songs"
Me: "Two stories, one song"
Her: "Three stories, three songs"
You can see how well a three year old negotiates. It usually ends up with at least three mini-stories, a handful of songs and more reasons why she still can't go to sleep. Drink. Pee. Cold feet. Drink (again). More stories. More songs.
Admittedly, it is fun. And it's another one of those things that will soon pass and I will miss.
I'm baaaackkk....!
After a much ballyhoo by the three people who read this blog, I am posting once again! Hooray! Anyhow, the wheels they are a turning and coming up with some good ideas to blog away. I missed you all too. :-)
Thursday, April 20, 2006
A quick judgement
I was driving to the dentist last night and I saw a man, with his back to me, walking on the sidewalk with no shirt on. Other than the no shirt, he seemed of sound mind (he was wearing pants and shoes). I thought to myself,
As I got closer to him, he turned around and to my shock and surprise, he was carrying a newborn baby, covered in a blanket, right on his chest. I gasped. Then I cried. This man is pacing the sidewalk, with skin-to-skin contact for his newborn baby, calming it, getting it to sleep. And here I was thinking this guy was some yahoo galavanting around without his shirt on for mere sport. Shame on me. My next thought was to the mother, who (I will venture a guess) was likely in the house trying to cope with the craziness I call Week 1 with Baby. Was she sleeping? Crying? Just trying to cope? Who knows.
I passed such a quick judgement only to realize I was completely off. How many times have I done that without knowing the full story? I will certainly know better next time.
"Dude, I know it's warm but GEEZE - put a shirt on already!"My next thought was "Canadians - any sign of warm weather and we're in shorts, flip flops and no shirts!!" In short, I thought he was a lunatic.
As I got closer to him, he turned around and to my shock and surprise, he was carrying a newborn baby, covered in a blanket, right on his chest. I gasped. Then I cried. This man is pacing the sidewalk, with skin-to-skin contact for his newborn baby, calming it, getting it to sleep. And here I was thinking this guy was some yahoo galavanting around without his shirt on for mere sport. Shame on me. My next thought was to the mother, who (I will venture a guess) was likely in the house trying to cope with the craziness I call Week 1 with Baby. Was she sleeping? Crying? Just trying to cope? Who knows.
I passed such a quick judgement only to realize I was completely off. How many times have I done that without knowing the full story? I will certainly know better next time.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Good night, Mommy. I love you.
Things change right before my eyes - before I even know they've changed. Most notably are the phases of my daughter's life that just seem to pass before I've even realized they are gone.
Tonight I sang a rousing rendition of "The Goodbye Song" from Bear in the Big Blue House (thankfully I know the words) and a not so perfect version of "Teddy Bear's Picnic" (I have since looked up the words). When did this little ritual begin, I wonder? It has been going on for as long as I can remember. Me or my husband, sitting beside her bed singing and patting her back.
It got me thinking about all the other little things we would do for her - especially at night - and when they just stopped? When did rocking her in the glider stop? Walking and bouncing? Nursing? Night waking? (ok, she still does that last one sometimes) I feel though that when I go through each of these 'phases' it seems that they will never end. Then she outgrows them or they outgrow her - or better yet - we just get tired of them all and move onto something else.
As I looked at her in her bed today, I still couldn't believe how big she's gotten, how she says "Good night Mommy, I love you" and gives me a kiss and hug. I also know that this phase too will pass. I hope it never does or better yet, I hope I never forget it.
Tonight I sang a rousing rendition of "The Goodbye Song" from Bear in the Big Blue House (thankfully I know the words) and a not so perfect version of "Teddy Bear's Picnic" (I have since looked up the words). When did this little ritual begin, I wonder? It has been going on for as long as I can remember. Me or my husband, sitting beside her bed singing and patting her back.
It got me thinking about all the other little things we would do for her - especially at night - and when they just stopped? When did rocking her in the glider stop? Walking and bouncing? Nursing? Night waking? (ok, she still does that last one sometimes) I feel though that when I go through each of these 'phases' it seems that they will never end. Then she outgrows them or they outgrow her - or better yet - we just get tired of them all and move onto something else.
As I looked at her in her bed today, I still couldn't believe how big she's gotten, how she says "Good night Mommy, I love you" and gives me a kiss and hug. I also know that this phase too will pass. I hope it never does or better yet, I hope I never forget it.
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