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Portraits

Thursday 26 February 2009

A few portraits snapped through the last few days.

Dziemik (“jam”) is a new favorite, and she wears it well. It’s particularly tasty on a Saturday afternoon when L has been entertaining herself — quiet well, in fact — while K and I clean.

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1/20, f/5.0, 24 mm

We got home Wednesday and L headed straight to her room to rummage through her treasures. The light was perfect, and the camera at hand.

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1/60, f/5.0, 46 mm

We end each evening with play time in L’s room. In fact, we spend a significant amount of our evening in her room, reading, playing, dancing (though only L does the dancing).

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1/20, f/5.0, 70 mm

Hit or Miss Language

Wednesday 25 February 2009

At school, everyone is “Miss.” Miss Karen. Miss Cathy. Miss Deborah. Miss Brenda.

Miss Cathy — L’s favorite — works in Toddler I. L no longer sees her on a daily basis, but her eyes light up when she sees Miss Cathy coming.

Miss Karen, Miss Deborah, and Miss Brenda work in Toddler II, where L spends her days now.

I wondered whether L thinks “Miss” is just part of their name, but it’s become obvious that L has separated the “Miss” from the name. She understands it as a prefix, but she still doesn’t understand its significance. It’s a term she uses with individuals she really likes.

Hence, I am often “Miss Tata” now. K is “Miss Mama.” Our cat, “Miss Bida.”

Forever Innocent

Monday 23 February 2009

“I didn’t do that! I’ll put it on my mother!”

“Well, you see, what happened…”

“Didn’t you see all those others doing it to?”

“But she was talking to me!”

“But he tried to trip me!”

“Well, he knocked my books off the desk.”

“No. No — that is not what I did.”

“What?!”

Sometimes, the excuses pile up. When they all come from one individual, someone who is always in the middle of things but always innocent, we see a life stretching out in front of this him that is so frustrating because he has such a warped perception of everything going on around him. We hope he can begin to look around and start taking some of the responsibility for the negative consequences he faces almost every day, but sometimes it seems the odds are against him.

Bean Counter

Sunday 22 February 2009

In Albert Camus’ The Plague, one of the characters — referred to as “the Spaniard” if I recall correctly — sat in bed with two bowls, counting peas, moving them from one bowl to another. So many repetitions of this and it was lunch time; so many more, dinner; still more, and it was time for sleep. It was Camus’ portrait of nihilism, the notion that all life is meaningless and amounts to little more than waiting for death.

Then there are accountants, known affectionately as bean counters. Is there so kind of connection? Perhaps there is something ultimately nihilistic about spending one’s time, counting other people’s money. Then again, most accountants do fairly well counting, so perhaps it’s not as bad as the Spaniard.

L has taken to counting beans, though she does it literally.

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It’s something they do in Montessori, something all the kids enjoy: moving dry beans from one container to another and back again. It’s wonderful for developing coordination and an understanding of materials.

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And when a mis-aimed cup spills beans all over the floor, it’s an opportunity to deal with frustration (something L is not very good at without accompanying vocalizations) and patience.

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And it keeps her busy long enough for me finish picadillo.

Helping Out

Thursday 19 February 2009

The Girl loves to imitate what she sees. This can be quite practical, in our laundry “room” for example.

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1/60, f/5.0, 10 mm, Flash fired

Eventually, trash night will be her responsibility. For now, it’s nice to have someone willing to load and unload the drier.

Fairly far down the list of our house renovations is the finishing of this room. By the time we get to it, I’m sure L will be helping with that as well.

Trading Places

Wednesday 18 February 2009

One of the many things I miss about living in Boston is Trader Joe’s. This fun video gives a lot of the reasons why.

 

Sunday, Southside Park

Monday 16 February 2009

We are slowly creating a late-winter, Sunday afternoon ritual that is focused on swing time for the Girl. We headed to Southside Park Sunday, and as we sat there, K and I realized it was a better choice than our usual one: less crowded and closer.

The Girl was pleased, too.

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Such a change from the first time we were at Southside. Still wobbly-footed and wary of being alone, she wouldn’t let us out of her sight.

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And naturally, we didn’t want her out of our reach. Wobbles turning to dangerous tumbles — the nightmare I continually endured at playgrounds last year. “They’re made to bounce,” Nana and Papa say, but my gut isn’t made to bounce: it dropped every time she fell, filling my head with visions of — well, no need to go there.

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Now, when she’s playing, the Girl makes the choice whether or not to play near us, and I’m only moderately paranoid. I’m sure that moderate paranoia will continue until she’s in her thirties or so.

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Or maybe it is a permanent fixture.

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It is the flip side of the joy of seeing her smile, of hearing her laugh. It is the worry that it won’t always be so. And why worry about that? Certainly she’ll have her share of bruises, emotional and physical, and it’s only natural that I want to protect her from them — at least minimize the impact. Yet we learn from the pain. In theory.

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L still doesn’t learn from the pain. At least, she’s not convinced. She knows the cat doesn’t like being tugged and violently hugged, and she knows what the cat’s claws are capable of, but every few days, the Girl tests the hypothesis again.

At least now the threats are visible, and the cause and cure clear.

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Indeed, this is the only time that K and I can kiss the pain away. Pain floats away, removed with a kiss that is then blown into the empty distance. “Bye bye!” L says after we blow away the kiss that took away the pain.

Broken hearts and disappointment aren’t so easily mended.

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But with everyone playing on a cool Sunday afternoon, these thoughts drift away.

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The guns are still plastic.

Dancing

Sunday 15 February 2009

The Girl has always loved dancing. As her coordination grows, so does the intricacy of some of her moves.

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Occasionally she’ll get a partner.

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The partner is often stiff with fear.

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