Stripey dress, redux

I decided that the dress was indeed too short, and I realized I had done the feather and fan border wrong, and there were not enough garter rows at the end so the whole thing just rolled up… so I ripped out, reknit a few rows and voila:

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So much better!!  The dress is still too big across the top, but I think I can knit a little cord and add it to the back for a design detail and to pull the sleeves in, then take it out when she grows.I love the malleability of knitting, to make it what you want, to undo and redo.  Truthfully, I’m not much of a perfectionist, and I see knitting as a way to improve that part of me.  I often tend to see things as “good enough” and not feel compelled to make them just right.  With the knitting, I push myself to do that, and am always pleasantly surprised  to be much happier that I did.

Bagel Faces!

My mom gave me the book Pretend Soup a few years ago, when the boy was about 18 months old.  Since then, we’ve made most of the recipes in it.  The boy loves to help me in the kitchen, and usually gets all dressed up for it in his apron.

This morning, we made one of his favorites, “Bagel Faces.”

Chopping like a pro

Chopping like a pro

You cut up cucumbers, bell peppers, and other veggies and put them on a bagel with cream cheese to make a face.  Most importantly, you must have a lot of sprouts on hand for hair.  This bagel had a face until the boy insisted that he was making a Daddy bagel, and daddies have a lot of hair.

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The best part, of course, is seeing your three year old shove it into his mouth, utterly unaware of the fact that he’s not supposed to like sprouts.

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Bagel Bliss

 

Stripey Dress

New dress for the girl:

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Grrr… A bit too big around the top, a bit too short overall… I may rip out the bottom and knit a few more rows, or just leave it as is and call it a tunic for summertime.

You may also notice that she has the standing down pat–it’s her favorite thing to do.  She’s also picking up more signs and can now sign “dog” and most importantly, “brother.”

Sally

My best friend from med school came out for a visit last week with her family.  I was so excited for our kids to meet–she has a 4 year old daughter and a 2 year old son.  The older kids met almost 3 years ago but obviously had no recollection of each other. When thinking of presents for the kids, B told me that her daughter was really into fairies, and her son into balls.  What’s a knitter to do? Enter Sally the Eco Fairy and a set of knitted balls.

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Not quite finished here–she needed a set of wings, hair, and eyes.  In my usual fashion I was sewing these on in the car to Vail.  While I managed to finish in time, my camera ran out of batteries so I don’t have a picture of the finished product, but will try to get my friend to send me one.  Really, she is so cute–even my boy looked at it and told me, “Mommy, that doll is really beautiful.” Honestly, I don’t know if the girl will really love it–it seems that so many kids these days are more enchanted with plastic versions of toys that look like the movie characters they see.

The knitted balls are adorable too, and of course suffer from the same lack-of-camera syndrome.  I almost put little jingle balls in them, but then took pity on the parents and decided against it.

I’m of course going to make a fairy for my girl–darker yarn, darker hair.  I’ve realized that there are very few representations in children’s media that involve non white children or voices.  Some I find frankly racist (the Latino car in the movie “Cars,” for example, complete with hydraulics and flame paint job).  Sesame Street is going off the air, and Dora/Diego are so unpalatable that I can’t bear to watch. But Bob the Builder, Thomas, Curious George don’t really have any.  Any thoughts on others?

Museum chatter

On a recent museum trip ( with mild paraphrasing)…

Me: “Let’s go see if they have any paintings by Rousseau like in your book at home.”

A: “I don’t like Rousseau anymore.”

M:”Why not?”

A:”Because they took away that painting with the man who was firing up the books and the people said
‘nooo!’

M:”Oh, honey, that was Daniel Richter, not Rousseau.”

A:”Oh. Where is that painting now?”

M:”They moved it to a different museum.”

A:”Oh! Can we go to the Different Museum sometime to see that painting, because I really loved it.”

M:”Maybe, kiddo.”

A:”Mommy, is Rousseau dead?”

M:”Yes, he died a long time ago.”

A:”That makes me sad because Rousseau is my friend.”

M:”Sorry, sweetheart.”

A:”Is Van Morrison dead?”

M:”No, he’s not. He’s quite alive.”

A:”Oh! Can we go see him sing sometime? Because he is my friend!

Science Experiments

Remember “Mr. Wizard” from when you were a kid? No? He was this guy on TV who would do simple science experiments with kids.  I loved this show and watched it obsessively, much like every other kids science show.  “Newton’s Apple” with Ira Flatow? My heart still goes pitter-pat when I hear him hosting “Science Friday” on NPR.

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There was one experiment he did in which you mixed cornstarch and water together and played around with it.  I recently found a book of science experiments for toddlers and found this in it. Remembering how much fun it had been, I did this the other day with the boy.

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It’s pretty cool stuff.  Cornstarch suspends in water, making a substance that is a liquid when poured or manipulated slowly but will act like a solid when hit.  You can roll it into a ball but it will melt a second later.

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We had a blast, talking about what is liquid and what is solid. And, really, it doesn’t make too much of a mess.

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Okay, maybe by your standards it makes a terrific mess.  But it really isn’t hard to clean up at all.

I’ve realized that my daughter gets a bit of a short shrift in these posts.  Truthfully, it’s partly because she hasn’t been doing all that much.  She’s wickedly adorable:

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And as noted before will eat anything put in front of her.  She is starting to sign a bit–she’s got “fan” “milk” and “more” down pat. We’re working on a few others.  Her brother had over 100 signs at his peak, and it was really fun to be able to communicate with him that way. She also says “mama” and babbles a lot. We’re still working on the whole movement thing.  She has figured out how to get around by a combination of rolling and spinning, but isn’t really all that interested in crawling yet.  Who knows? She may surprise us yet and head directly for walking.

Houston, we have a problem

The boy is obsessed with Neil Armstrong.

At first, I thought this was another naming phase. At one point or another, all members of the family (and some friends) have had names corresponding to various TV shows. We have been Bob the Builder characters, Sesame Street muppets, and friends of Christopher Robin.  At school, the boy read a book about the first moon landing and since then he has been Neil Armstrong. At first, I was Sally Ride, Sapana mawashee was Buzz Aldrin, and Eric was the mysterious astronaut “Billwam.” I’ve since been demoted to Neil Armstrong’s mom (sad, but true) but Neil persists.

This has now been going on for about 2 months, and it’s to the point where the boy asks to have his clothing labeled, “Neil Armstrong” instead of with his own, given name.  He has built rocket ships out of cardboard, and loves to dress up at the museum:

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But more recently, and somewhat bizarrely, he gets himself together like this:

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This is when he is Neil Armstrong landing on the moon.  He uses the links to connect himself to his toolbox and then proceeds to walk around the house, dragging the toolbox behind him, taking large wide steps. If he’s wearing pants with belt loops, the box is connected to those.  He is almost always shirtless in this scenario, which  makes me wonder exactly what “moon landing” book they were reading at school.

The girl, of course, has a name in this parallel universe.

She’s the SpaceDog.

Blood makes noise

No, not a gory doctoring post.

I was thinking about the differences between my two kids.  Though I wouldn’t have believed it before becoming a parent, I’m beginning to think more that personality is determined at birth.  Really, the Boy has always had that same look in his eye, the same fervent curiousity about the world around him and the same restlessness since he was born.  The Girl hasn’t had as long to show herself, but so far she’s just sweet, happy, and there’s something really beautiful about her that just shines. (Someone, please remind me of this post when they are teenagers and slam their bedroom doors in my face and shout, “You’re ruining my life!! I hate you!!”)

To that end, this morning at the breakfast table I commented to Eric that the difference between the kids is that the Boy has more of an inner fire and the Girl has more of an inner light. I’m hoping this doesn’t come across as too cheesy. (I have an inner traffic light that is perpetually set to blinking red, if that helps)

The Boy was having none of this.

“I DON’T have a fire inside me!!” he kept insisting. “I don’t WANT fire inside me!”

“Well, what do you want inside you?”

“Just blood!!”

okay then.