Scene
Ian, aged 2.7 and Molly, feline aged 14, sitting on sofa.
Ian: (petting Molly gently, with tremendous restraint) I pet her!
Molly: (glowers)
Ian: (patting Molly’s back, again with a restraint unusual for him) I pat her back! I pat her fur!
Molly: (glowers)
Ian: (bending to peer into Molly’s eyes) She has lellow eyes! They are lellow!
Molly: (glowers)
Ian: (with great daring, bends further and kisses Molly on the head) Molly and me are getting married! We are getting married! I kiss her!
Molly: (glowers)
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Collin!
We love Collin. He is smart and funny and incredibly energetic and outgoing and polite and a huge fan of my homemade desserts.
But man, when that kid wants to have a temper tantrum!
The other night he gave me his Social Studies review sheet to look over. I noted that he had been asked to name 2 continents. This seemed a bit facile, so I asked him to name some more.
“Noooooo! I only have to name two!”
“But you can name more.”
“But I ONLY HAVE TO NAME TWO!”
“Well, on the paper you do, but I know you probably name all of them. Name a couple more. For me.”
“Mommmyyyy!” And he threw himself against the kitchen cabinets so dramatically that—get this—he lost his footing, slid down the cabinet face, caught his pajama top on the door handle and then split his own lip on the top edge of said door handle, promptly smearing blood all over the cabinet and the floor and bursting into tears.
I picked him up, got him some ice in a washcloth, and hugged him close. Then I leaned down and whispered, “Hey Coll? I’m still going to make you name more continents.”
“NOOO!” he wailed, drooling blood.
I didn’t say anything. He sighed.
“Fine. Africa, North America, South America, and Antartica.”
Was that so hard?
But man, when that kid wants to have a temper tantrum!
The other night he gave me his Social Studies review sheet to look over. I noted that he had been asked to name 2 continents. This seemed a bit facile, so I asked him to name some more.
“Noooooo! I only have to name two!”
“But you can name more.”
“But I ONLY HAVE TO NAME TWO!”
“Well, on the paper you do, but I know you probably name all of them. Name a couple more. For me.”
“Mommmyyyy!” And he threw himself against the kitchen cabinets so dramatically that—get this—he lost his footing, slid down the cabinet face, caught his pajama top on the door handle and then split his own lip on the top edge of said door handle, promptly smearing blood all over the cabinet and the floor and bursting into tears.
I picked him up, got him some ice in a washcloth, and hugged him close. Then I leaned down and whispered, “Hey Coll? I’m still going to make you name more continents.”
“NOOO!” he wailed, drooling blood.
I didn’t say anything. He sighed.
“Fine. Africa, North America, South America, and Antartica.”
Was that so hard?
Lilah!
Notes from the first drama class:
So Lilah and Collin are enrolled in drama class this Spring. Collin was reluctant but seems pleasantly surprised at how much physical energy the class demands of him. Lilah is in her element. A story shall illustrate.
On the first day, the children were divided into two groups and each group did an impromptu rendition of a familiar fairy tale. They chose Goldilocks and the Three Bears and The Three Little Pigs. After some 20 minutes of practice that seemed to involved a lot of giggling, they presented these scenes to the watching parents.
The first group set the tone, which was mono, as it were. The children mumbled their lines (“This porridge is too hot.”) except for Collin, who employed a squeaky voice as Baby Bear. But they all seemed shyly pleased to be going through the motions. Goldilocks did a great deal of vague pantomiming of eating, sitting, then lying down, all at high speed, and at the end the bears gleefully chased her off the stage.
The second group started in much the same vein, with three diffident little pigs standing in a line and the first one shuffling a few steps away to begin “building” her straw house.
Then the wolf appeared.
Snarling, limping like a maimed serial killer, his face contorted and his voice a creepy blend of Russian gangster and cartoon villain, he approached the bewildered pig.
“Leetle pig, leetle pig, let me in!” he spat.
The pig shook her head.
“Then I weeel huffff and puff and blow your house eeen!” Cried the wolf, and proceeded to do so dramatically.
At the end of this skit, the pigs lit a fire in the fireplace and when the wolf slid down the chimney, he burned his bottom. He let out a whoop, clapped his hands to his rear end, and pranced off-stage.
I venture to say that I was not the only audience member struck by this stunning performance. The parents all around me were in stitches. The wolf was quite pleased with her audience response.
And thus, a star is born.
So Lilah and Collin are enrolled in drama class this Spring. Collin was reluctant but seems pleasantly surprised at how much physical energy the class demands of him. Lilah is in her element. A story shall illustrate.
On the first day, the children were divided into two groups and each group did an impromptu rendition of a familiar fairy tale. They chose Goldilocks and the Three Bears and The Three Little Pigs. After some 20 minutes of practice that seemed to involved a lot of giggling, they presented these scenes to the watching parents.
The first group set the tone, which was mono, as it were. The children mumbled their lines (“This porridge is too hot.”) except for Collin, who employed a squeaky voice as Baby Bear. But they all seemed shyly pleased to be going through the motions. Goldilocks did a great deal of vague pantomiming of eating, sitting, then lying down, all at high speed, and at the end the bears gleefully chased her off the stage.
The second group started in much the same vein, with three diffident little pigs standing in a line and the first one shuffling a few steps away to begin “building” her straw house.
Then the wolf appeared.
Snarling, limping like a maimed serial killer, his face contorted and his voice a creepy blend of Russian gangster and cartoon villain, he approached the bewildered pig.
“Leetle pig, leetle pig, let me in!” he spat.
The pig shook her head.
“Then I weeel huffff and puff and blow your house eeen!” Cried the wolf, and proceeded to do so dramatically.
At the end of this skit, the pigs lit a fire in the fireplace and when the wolf slid down the chimney, he burned his bottom. He let out a whoop, clapped his hands to his rear end, and pranced off-stage.
I venture to say that I was not the only audience member struck by this stunning performance. The parents all around me were in stitches. The wolf was quite pleased with her audience response.
And thus, a star is born.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Ian Himself
So, many (far too many) years ago, we did a Claycomb Twins dictionary. I believe it went out as our Christmas card. It featured such linguistic treasures as "pyuh-twuck holmie" (Fire truck helmet), "ogen" (orange), and "flah-lah" (flower). It may NOT have included Lilah's imperative for "Sit," as in, "Sit, Mommy!" into which she inserted a well-placed "sh" sound. (We'll let readers figure it out.)
Well, before time passes and the moment is gone, here is the same dictionary moment, for Ian. Enjoy.
Bappieball- (n) Basketball. Or soccer ball or volley ball, but not, interestingly enough, any smaller ball. He reserves the term for the larger (and more fascinating) of the species. This fascination was no doubt solidified today, when we went to the WVU Rec Center and a man who was actually playing basketball gave Ian the ball to hold. And Gramps, we are sorry to report that even footballs are called, that's right, bappieballs.
Bi-boy- (n) Big boy. As in, any boy doing something notably cool. Collin. One of Collin’s friends. Ian himself when he is doing something he should not be doing, like standing on his train (see Flickr photo.) Always invoked with either admiration or pride, depending.
Hottie-dog- (n) Hot dog. Not even his favorite food, but so much more fun to say with the added “ee” sound.
Hottler (n) Helicopter. Invariably pronounced with the variant stuttering “H” sound (H-h-h-hottler) to indicate extreme excitement and amazement. That such things exist! That they move and make those sounds! That there are videos of them that we can watch. Over and over and over and over again!
Itty- (n) Ian. Took us a while, but we (or more accurately, his babysitter) deduced that this is what he calls himself. Now previously mysterious phrases like “Itty turn!” and “Itty do!” make so much more sense.
Lacey- (n) The name of Ian’s pet dog. Perhaps you are puzzled here, if you know us well. We do not have a dog. Nor does Ian have a stuffed dog of which he is particularly fond. He does, however, have a sister. When she is pretending to be a dog, she calls herself Lacey. And so does Ian. She enters the room on all fours, barking. He turns. “Lacey!” he calls. Does anyone else think this is weird?
‘Mazing- (adj.) Amazing. Used to describe himself when prompted. Discovered in the Kung Fu Panda 2 trailer (view through link, here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdaMGcOyfjM), with which Ian is obsessed. He thinks the panda is looking right at him and telling him he looks amazing. Well, who wouldn’t like to hear that?
Ready-Go! (V) Imperative verb indicating the start of a race, or a running-away from Mommy, or any time the kid is let outside to walk/run anywhere. Accompanied by a dip of the shoulders to indicate the runner in the blocks, then a lurching up of the shoulders and swing of one arm (for momentum, we presume) as he sets off, wispy blonde hair floating behind him. Fairly cute.
Well, before time passes and the moment is gone, here is the same dictionary moment, for Ian. Enjoy.
Bappieball- (n) Basketball. Or soccer ball or volley ball, but not, interestingly enough, any smaller ball. He reserves the term for the larger (and more fascinating) of the species. This fascination was no doubt solidified today, when we went to the WVU Rec Center and a man who was actually playing basketball gave Ian the ball to hold. And Gramps, we are sorry to report that even footballs are called, that's right, bappieballs.
Bi-boy- (n) Big boy. As in, any boy doing something notably cool. Collin. One of Collin’s friends. Ian himself when he is doing something he should not be doing, like standing on his train (see Flickr photo.) Always invoked with either admiration or pride, depending.
Hottie-dog- (n) Hot dog. Not even his favorite food, but so much more fun to say with the added “ee” sound.
Hottler (n) Helicopter. Invariably pronounced with the variant stuttering “H” sound (H-h-h-hottler) to indicate extreme excitement and amazement. That such things exist! That they move and make those sounds! That there are videos of them that we can watch. Over and over and over and over again!
Itty- (n) Ian. Took us a while, but we (or more accurately, his babysitter) deduced that this is what he calls himself. Now previously mysterious phrases like “Itty turn!” and “Itty do!” make so much more sense.
Lacey- (n) The name of Ian’s pet dog. Perhaps you are puzzled here, if you know us well. We do not have a dog. Nor does Ian have a stuffed dog of which he is particularly fond. He does, however, have a sister. When she is pretending to be a dog, she calls herself Lacey. And so does Ian. She enters the room on all fours, barking. He turns. “Lacey!” he calls. Does anyone else think this is weird?
‘Mazing- (adj.) Amazing. Used to describe himself when prompted. Discovered in the Kung Fu Panda 2 trailer (view through link, here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdaMGcOyfjM), with which Ian is obsessed. He thinks the panda is looking right at him and telling him he looks amazing. Well, who wouldn’t like to hear that?
Ready-Go! (V) Imperative verb indicating the start of a race, or a running-away from Mommy, or any time the kid is let outside to walk/run anywhere. Accompanied by a dip of the shoulders to indicate the runner in the blocks, then a lurching up of the shoulders and swing of one arm (for momentum, we presume) as he sets off, wispy blonde hair floating behind him. Fairly cute.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Lilah and Collin with their birthday cards
Yes, it's official. They are seven.
So this post will be short. I am reporting something second-hand, for one thing. It has to do, tangentially, with those vampire fangs Collin is sporting here (look closely). Those fangs were part of a whole haul of Halloween-themed (ahem) junk that they brought home from school, including rubber rats, skeleton erasers, spider rings, etc.
So the twins are out on the porch playing quietly (uh-oh.) Daddy asks what, exactly, they are doing.
"Oh, you know, we're playing. It's like bow and arrow except with rats."
Daddy, wisely, didn't inquire further.
So this post will be short. I am reporting something second-hand, for one thing. It has to do, tangentially, with those vampire fangs Collin is sporting here (look closely). Those fangs were part of a whole haul of Halloween-themed (ahem) junk that they brought home from school, including rubber rats, skeleton erasers, spider rings, etc.
So the twins are out on the porch playing quietly (uh-oh.) Daddy asks what, exactly, they are doing.
"Oh, you know, we're playing. It's like bow and arrow except with rats."
Daddy, wisely, didn't inquire further.
Ian reading
We were worried that Ian wouldn't be a reader, because up until about 6 weeks ago, he wasn't that into books. He liked to chew on them, but that was about it.
Silly us. Now he wakes up and we can hear him in his crib: "Book! Book!" He goes and gets books and hands them to you and then walks off and gets more books and hands them to someone else. He sits down and looks up at you expectantly. He gets them out of the bathroom and/or brings them into the bathroom. He climbs the stairs to get them and then tries to carry them downstairs with him. He pulls them out of his siblings' backpacks . . .
And as you can see, he likes to read them. Thank heavens.
Silly us. Now he wakes up and we can hear him in his crib: "Book! Book!" He goes and gets books and hands them to you and then walks off and gets more books and hands them to someone else. He sits down and looks up at you expectantly. He gets them out of the bathroom and/or brings them into the bathroom. He climbs the stairs to get them and then tries to carry them downstairs with him. He pulls them out of his siblings' backpacks . . .
And as you can see, he likes to read them. Thank heavens.
Lady L and Sir Collin the Snaggletooth
So I promised (in the post just before this one) to tell some tales of Lilah at the Renaissance Festival. And now it's been two months since we were there and it's hard to remember . . .
Well, but not that hard. Because Lilah clearly was made for the SCA. For those of you who don't know, that's the acronym for the Society for Creative Anachronism, which is those people who work at Ren Fests or (more likely even) go to Ren Fests in full costume and with elaborate accents and backstories and who spend hundreds of dollars on real chain mail and bustiers and wear fairy wings at their weddings.
These are her people.
"Hallo! Are you a princess?" called the greeters to Lilah as we entered the Fair.
"No!" (exasperated.) "I'm a fairy lady-in-waiting."
The children had each earned money to spend at the Fest. Collin bought a wooden sword and has been very happy. He has only almost killed me once with it.
Lilah bought: a rose dipped in hot melted wax then rolled in glitter, a necklace with a cat pendant on it, a tiny teddy bear with bells sewn onto his feet and a peacock feather. She WANTED to buy a stuffed, flower-bedecked unicorn big enough to sit on, but the woman who ran the shop told her it wasn't for sale.
Just wait. In ten years, when YOU go to a Renaissance Festival, perhaps you'll be greeted by a girl wearing a dress made out of peacock feathers and glitter, sitting on a white horse with a "horn" on its head. You'll know who it is. Just do whatever she tells you to do.
Well, but not that hard. Because Lilah clearly was made for the SCA. For those of you who don't know, that's the acronym for the Society for Creative Anachronism, which is those people who work at Ren Fests or (more likely even) go to Ren Fests in full costume and with elaborate accents and backstories and who spend hundreds of dollars on real chain mail and bustiers and wear fairy wings at their weddings.
These are her people.
"Hallo! Are you a princess?" called the greeters to Lilah as we entered the Fair.
"No!" (exasperated.) "I'm a fairy lady-in-waiting."
The children had each earned money to spend at the Fest. Collin bought a wooden sword and has been very happy. He has only almost killed me once with it.
Lilah bought: a rose dipped in hot melted wax then rolled in glitter, a necklace with a cat pendant on it, a tiny teddy bear with bells sewn onto his feet and a peacock feather. She WANTED to buy a stuffed, flower-bedecked unicorn big enough to sit on, but the woman who ran the shop told her it wasn't for sale.
Just wait. In ten years, when YOU go to a Renaissance Festival, perhaps you'll be greeted by a girl wearing a dress made out of peacock feathers and glitter, sitting on a white horse with a "horn" on its head. You'll know who it is. Just do whatever she tells you to do.
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