Three Little Pigs and Lunchboxes

This video needs no introduction. Okay... maybe a tiny introduction. In this video, Ms. Zoë relates the famous "Three Little Pigs" fairy tale with a slight variation. While lunchboxes are also rectangles, they may not be quite the same as bricks, structurally speaking. Even so... she's a natural story-teller and oh! so cute :) Enjoy!

Also, here are some photos from recent days, including visits from the fabulous Aria, her parents, and her grandparents (though I was not a very good photographer for their visit -- too busy enjoying, of course! So perhaps I will leave it to them to donate their photos please *hint, hint*!), ... cherry blossoms (barely caught those in our crazy Spring weather), ... and my trip to Monterey, CA for the HEAD meeting.

Vignettes from the Week

Before these stories fall out of my brain, I had to jot down these amusing anecdotes --

Traffic Light Greetings

Zoë: Daddy?

Daddy: Yes, Zoë.

Z: You know what Mommy does?

D: Hmm?

Z: Sometimes when we are going to school and we stop at a traffic light, Mommy looks at me in the mirror and says "Hi, Zoë". Then I say: "Hi, Mommy".  Isn't that nice?

(You never know what these kids notice and appreciate. It made me smile to know what such a simple gesture, practically an involuntary one, was observed and made some impression... makes me wonder about those not-so-good things that I do that might also get noticed. Hmmm...).

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Tummy Chambers

We are out for cupcakes. While we wait for Daddy to join us, I find a couple of clementines in my purse. I peel one and offer some to Zoë. She eats a few segments and hands back the rest and says:

Z: No more, Mommy, I'm full. 

Mommy: But what are you going to do? Aren't we are going to have cupcakes?

Z: No problem, Mommy. See? My belly has different parts. One part is for bananas, one part is for oranges and one part is for cupcakes. The banana part is empty now, but the oranges part is all full. But don't worry -- there's always room in the cupcake part for more cupcakes. 

She's my daughter, alright -- always ready with some excellent justification for eating the sweet stuff.

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The Lost Sock

When we were in Hawaii, I got Zoë some Hello Kitty socks, for our hike. It turns out that these are now her absolute favorite socks. One day, as I was folding the laundry, I discovered that I was missing one of the socks.

I told Zoë: Oh no! I think the laundry machine ate your sock. We'll save the other just in case the partner shows up later, but I think it might be lost. 

Zoë looked sad. The next day, as soon as I saw her after school, she ran over with great excitement and this news:

Z: Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! I found the sock! It was stuck to my blanket! (Then, sheepishly) Actually, I didn't find the sock. Ryanne did. (Pause... then, suddenly brightening) You know why? Ryanne's four years old. So her eyes are bigger than mine. That's why she can see things better and find things like my sock. When I am four, I will be able to see better and find things too!

Remember when you looked forward to aging?

Fall... (ing behind)

Two months have passed and there's much to update. So I think I won't even try. The Zych grandparents came a few weeks ago and we had lots of fun (Happy slightly belated Birthday, Grandma!)

The next few months will be very busy as I am applying for new positions (aiming a little ambitiously at a few faculty positions, and mainly more fellowships and postdoctoral research positions). As things are once again sitting on the precipice of total disruption, the level of stress and list of things to do are out of control! But luckily, tales of funny Zoë have been keeping me chuckling (and closer to sane, though she brings to our lives her own toddler angst). I wanted to share a few here before I forget!

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Yesterday, while we were sitting down for breakfast, I found her licking the dining table. Now she is just getting over a bout of stomach flu, probably brought on by her recent deplorable habit of licking EVERYTHING. (Weirdly, she wasn't super-licky as a baby, but in several ways I find she has been "testing" baby habits, regressing a bit on skills that she had down -- like trying the potty, getting dressed, brushing her own teeth, etc. So I had a conversation with her:

Me: Zoë, why are you licking the table? You know that the table is not food! Babies lick tables because they are learning what is food and what isn't. But you are older, you already *know* that the table isn't food. Can you eat a table? No! Can you eat a book?

Zoë: No.

M: Can you eat Mommy's phone?

Z: No. It's not food.

M. Right! Can you eat cheese?

Z: Yes. It's food.

M: Exactly, so you can put it in your mouth. See, you know what's food already. If you see a baby eating the table or eating blocks, you might want to say: "Don't eat that! It's not food." But the baby has to figure it out for herself. She might not listen to you. But you can try to explain that some things are food and it's ok to eat. But other things are not food and should not be put in the mouth!

Z: Ok! I know! I need to tell Choochoo baby (that's her doll with a train on the chest) right now!

Hops off the chair, runs into the other room. In her sternest, loudest "teacher" voice, she yells:
Z: Choochoo baby, DON'T LICK THE TABLE! IT'S NOT FOOD! YOU DON'T LICK THINGS. YOU ONLY LICK FOOD. Table's not a food, is it? No... you don't want to eat it, do you? NO!

I can report that Choochoo baby learned her lesson -- she has not licked the table since.

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This morning, another Choochoo baby story (these are starting to remind me of Calvin and Hobbes... only Choochoo is Zoë's naughty alter ego). For several months, Zoë has been saying "I don't like you" to me and Matt. I think it started as a form of protest, when we would make her do something she didn't want to do; and then it was silly, just to provoke some reaction like "fake crying", etc. In fact, once, first thing in the morning, she responded to my "Good Morning, Zoë!" with "I don't like you. Go away". Still sleepy and thoroughly disarmed, I reacted with "Fine. Since you don't like me, I am going away to New York tomorrow"... which was true, but I regretted telling her this way, making her think that my trip was a "punishment" or lesson for that phrase. She did stop saying it after that... but now that I have to travel again, we'll see how it goes. Anyway, this morning,

Zoë tells me, (in a tattle voice): Mommy, Choochoo Baby said she doesn't like me.

Me: Hmm... that's not nice! Maybe you should tell her how it makes you feel.

I heard her again sternly addressing Choochoo Baby in a quiet, ominous tone.

Zoë (to Choochoo Baby): Choochoo, You don't say, "I don't like you". IT'S NOT NICE! When you say "I don't like you" I get sad and feel mean.

(Pause the then sweetly) You don't want that, do you? You should say "sorry". You think what you said. I go to school now. When I come home, you say "sorry, I love you."

Choochoo Baby is no doubt contemplating her harsh words right now...

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THE END (for now).