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Wednesday, May 6, 2015

A Quick David Update

It's been a crazy few months, but I just want to get down a brief snapshot of this little charmer.

David's one year and nine months old and a wonderful stage of life where he is still such a baby and yet such a little boy all at once.  He still wears nappies and nurses to sleep and rides around in a stroller and loves to cuddle and makes a huge mess when he eats anything and doesn't talk much on the one hand, but on the other, he throws (very mild) little boy fits and has fallen in love with Dora the Explorer and can play in the big kids room with his older brother and sister and understands a large amount of what we say to him and is developing this wonderful little personality.  Oh, when a smile breaks over this little guys face and bubbles over into a full-out baby giggle, you just have to laugh along.  He is so much more cooperative kid than the other two were at this age.  He'll point out a dirty nappy to you, and when you ask him if he's stinky, he'll nod and trot off to his room to be changed and settle down on the floor, carefully lowering his head so he doesn't bump it and then let you do your thing.  His vocabulary consists of about five words, including "no" (squeaked out like a little mouse), "yuck" (meaning both "yuck" and "I don't like this situation and so it should change," "ma-ma" (initially meaning "I want that" but now also meaning me), "water," and "ba" (which is multi-purpose, including baby and ball and balloon and other such things).  He may have a few more thrown in, like something that is supposed to mean Dora and a two syllable all-purpose deal that has meant anything from stroller to panda, but that's most of it. 

I love what he does with his minimalistic vocabulary, though, and how much he manages to communicate combining it with body language.  Tonight, as I was nursing him to sleep, he kept pointing at his legs and saying, "yuck."  Since he had just had his nappy changed, I didn't think he meant he needed a new diaper again.  Finally, I figured out this was a "I don't like this situation and so you should do something about it," occasioned by the fact that I was trying to get away with putting him to bed in a onsie without pants.  Apparently, he hasn't caught on to the idea of summer yet, so he was thrilled when I put the pj trousers with the trucks on him. 

My favorite example of his creative communication came the other day.  He said, "ma-ma," indicating he wanted something.  Then he walked over to my bedroom door and said, "water."  Usually he would walk to the kitchen for that, so I took it to mean he wanted to nurse on my bed.  Apparently, it means to drink, too, in a pinch.

Anyway, the baby will soon disappear completely so I'm savoring these last infant moments, but the sweet little boy emerging is a whole lot of fun and I'm looking forward to continuing to get to know him and see him interact with his brother and sister more and more.  For all the craziness having baby number three has introduced into our lives (especially since baby number one wasn't even 3 years old when he was born), I am so glad it worked out this way!

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Well, here goes nothing ...

Vivienne's name means "life" or "lively," and it was appropriately chosen.  The past few nights she really has had a problem settling.  Also, of late, we have had a hard time keeping track of her pacies (pacifiers/dummies), her equivalent of Jonathan's beloved Baby Giraffe.  Well, tonight, after all the stores were closed, we really, really couldn't come up with one, so daddy (who does the "big" kids' bedtime routine) came in and asked if maybe tonight should be the night so we could get her off them before David figured out what they were and wanted one, too.  (His current bedtime favorites are Foxy Mommy and Foxy Baby, a wonderfully cuddly IKEA duo.)  Then daddy said, "Do you have a gift for her?  I know you always have something."  Ah, the man knows me well.  I have had a Belle Toddler Princess stashed away through two Christmases and a birthday.  Last year Vivienne wasn't old enough to really be interested in dolls, and her birthday coincided with her strong love of Jonathan's baby doll so really she needed her own.  (OK, I needed her to have her own so I could stop refereeing who got "Baby.")  Then, right before Christmas I found Elsa AND Anna at Costco for about the price one princess doll was elsewhere, so we hopped on the Frozen bandwagon.  (OK, we were already on it.)  So there was Belle, sitting in my closet, waiting for her dramatic moment.  Well, tonight was her night.

When we got into her room, both Jonathan and Vivienne wanted to show us all Vivienne's shelf where they had lined up Elsa, Anna, and her mini-Belle figurine among other things.  I took this as a sign that maybe we were on the right track with her gift.

Then we talked to Vivienne.  "OK, Vivienne.  You are a big girl, so no more pacies."

"I not a big gi-irl.  I just a small gi-irl."  (In her toddler/half-British/Chinese accent, "girl" definitely has a diphthong.)

"Yes, but if you give up pacies, you get a present."

"I want a present."

"So this means no more pacies."

"OK.  Where's my present?"

"Mommy will go get it."

At this point, I retired to go wrap her present because I thought that would make it more legitimately present-esque in her eyes, therefore adding weight to our future arguments when she asked for a paci at a later date.  (We'll see how that goes.)  I told daddy to go talk it up some more.  Through the door I heard them.

"So Vivienne.  You're getting a present.  You know what this means, right?  No more ..."

"Nappies."  (We've been trying to prepare her for that change as well.)

"Well, you can keep your nappies just a little bit longer.  No more ..."

"Pacies!"

When I brought the present out (in the shiniest, glitteriest, most legitimizing paper I could find) Jonathan was dancing around just as much as she was and it was all we could do to keep him from "helping" all the wrapping paper off.  Vivienne's face lit up and she squealed, "Belle.  I love it."
She looks happy enough with it, right?

Of course, the next few hours were all in and out .. of bed, each other's beds, mommy's room, you name it.  Even Jonathan was complaining that she wouldn't let him sleep, but finally he, at least, was down for the count.  Still, she would bounce up every so often.

The last time she came in, I threatened her back to bed.  "But you didn't stay a long time.  You didn't sing to me."

"OK, but just one song."

"Three songs."

"Vivienne, how many songs?"

"Four songs."

"OK," I compromised. "I'll sing 'Jesus Loves Me' and 'Twinkle, Twinkle,' so two songs."

"Don't sing scary songs."

Well, I thought we would be safe with my choices, so I launched into them, after, of course, getting her a sheet instead of a blanket (because the weather has definitely been getting warmer and muggier) and negotiating the status of her socks.  I launched into several verses of "Jesus Love Me."  Before the chorus on the third or fourth verse, she piped up, "Now 'Peppa Pig.'"  Well, despite its constant iPad play around here, I really couldn't think of anything beyond, "Peppa Pig, Peppa Pig" (is there more to it than that?) so I suggested "Rocket" (a.k.a. "Little Einsteins") and she said, "OK."  But when I started it she said, "No, 'Jesus Loves Me' first.'"  So back to the last two verses, then into a fairly acceptable version of "Rocket," (though she corrected me at least once and I am never sure which part comes when).  Of course, she didn't forget "Twinkle, Twinkle," so we went with that, followed by my second verse (which I made up when she was a baby David's age learning to sleep in a crib by herself -- my survival skills kicking in so I wouldn't die of boredom):

"Scurry, scurry, little mouse,
How I hope that you're in my house,
Up above my little bed.
Won't you come and dance on my head.
Scurry, scurry, little mouse,
How I hope that you're in my house."  (Complete with the appropriate scurrying tickles and giggles, of course.)

And that, at least, seemed to convince her that it really, really, REALLY was bedtime -- at least, I haven't had any more little visits during the time it's taken me to write this down and finish cutting out her next dress.

So, here goes nothing ...

Pretty sure, though, we're going to encounter a few screaming bouts and a bit of co-sleeping when she wakes up in the middle of the night looking for her paci, but we have convinced her (for tonight at least) to go to bed without it, so I am counting it as, well, not yet a win, but at least a point.