holidays
Madeline at Boo in the Zoo
In an old zoo in Greenville that was covered with vines
Weaved hundreds of children in one very long line;
The smartest, cutest, and funniest was Madeline.
She was not afraid of the candy-sharing workers of the zoo,
And to the snake behind the glass, she just said “Poo poo!”
“Poo poo” to the lion, too.
The animals in the cages had all gone to sleep,
And it almost made poor little Madeline weep,
But the thought of more treats made her pick up her feet.
She posed for pictures with pumpkins and hay,
But in the end, she was glad to call it a day.
In the parking lot, “Watch out for the cars” was almost all she could say.
Jack-o-Lantern
Carving a jack-o-lantern is a paradox: it requires forceful and delicate motions. And it’s often simply messy.
The lesson I learned this year: don’t cut the top hole too small. It makes scraping the insides a nightmare because there are no do-overs with that first cut.
There are also no re-dos with the delicate work.
Which is why our ghost is holding a blog instead of a three-candle candelabra.
Next year.
Rituals
Having a child makes it obvious why there are yearly rituals in all cultures. They measure time and serve as a standard for growth and progress.
A year ago, L was small enough to hide behind a pumpkin.
She was considerably bigger this time around, and more independent. Getting her to go here or there and do this or that was much more difficult. She had her own session photos in mind and was not really thrilled to cooperate with photographer or assistant — even when we switched roles.
And her imagination has developed, not to mention linguistic skills.
“Tata! It’s a dragon!” she cried on finding a bright gourd.
Yet, she still can be surprised when the tables are turned and another gourd counterattacks.
We battled for a little, with each Dragon Gourd showing a propensity to tickling its victim.
The tractor was just as fascinating this year as last year, but this year, she could pedal. Then again, in the intervening months, the chain had broken, so L’s efforts didn’t result in much more than a bit of confusion.
There’s something about a field of pumpkins that inspire people to bring their children for pictures. The contrast? The obviously seasonal motif?
L came up with her own poses this year. The set involved as many small pumpkins as could possibly be gathered.
The session was not to be, though. L saw the scarecrow, and with a little gentle suggestion from K, we managed a shot that more accurately shows L’s personality: playful, silly, always looking for a surprise.
What will next year bring?
Perhaps a third photographer?
First Parade
I don’t know if I’ve ever been in a parade. If I have, I don’t remember it. That might be the case with L thirty-plus years from now, but we’ll remember it, K and I: L’s school had a parade yesterday.
There was a pre-parade performance/cheer,
with a Cycling Corps actually leading the parade in (with one or two very wise little girls in helmets),
followed by some marchers complete with banners,
followed by the youngest toddlers’ escort.
L’s group was the very last, with L marching as something of a walking Statue of Liberty.
“Don’t let her see you,” K suggested before the parade began. “She’ll want to leave her group and come over to us.” Perhaps it was an unnecessary concern, for she marched past us with a big smile and obvious pride, and continued marching.
She was somewhat intrigued by her own shadow, though.
A photographer was there with a rather substantial collection of equipment, obviously a pro or a rich amateur: anyone with two Nikon D3 bodies…
Finally, everyone gathered at the base of the flag to sing “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” I guess to the flag. It seemed strangely idolatrous and sweet at the same time.
A picnic followed, with L continuing her usual aversion to meat. No hot dog for her, thank you — just a bun.
Decorating
We got our Christmas tree last Friday, but with the party and accompanying chaos, we didn’t get it decorated until Monday. For L, the empty decorations box was the most interesting.
She played for a little bit, posing as well: she’s taken to saying “Cheese” whenever the camera is aimed in her direction.
Eventually, L was especially helpful. “L turn!” she cried every time K or I hung an ornament from the tree. At first, she herself needed some help.
But in true L-independent fashion, she quickly declared she must do it “Sama! Sama!”
That declaration that she must do it “Alone!” is both a blessing and a curse. It bodes well for her future, but it often results in rice spread for a square mile beneath her chair and yogurt smeared about everywhere. Then again, is it really a curse, your daughter learning to do things independently? Some cleaner and a paper towel takes care of it, so what’s the big deal? Besides, what are we going to do — discourage independence?
Thanksgiving Games
In the old days, my family and I went to visit Aunt L and Uncle N for Thanksgiving. It was always a traditional feast, with copious amounts of gibblet gravey poured over sliced turkey, with desserts and snacks through the rest of the afternoon and evening.
The guys might fall asleep in front of a football game sometime in the middle of the afternoon, but by five or six, everyone was sitting at the table, playing games. Dominoes, Uno, board games — you name it. It was a time of family enjoying each other’s company.
This Thanksgiving, we visited long-lost family. The difference was striking. The men set up a television in one room and watched football for the two or so hours they were there while the women watched a dog show.
When dinner was served, everyone loaded up their plates and sequestered themselves anew. After a couple of hours, the guests loaded up and took off, heading to the mountains for a vacation.
Trick or Treat
We took the Girl trick-or-treating this weekend. We’d been preparing for a couple of weeks, for L was initially not thrilled with the idea of wearing a Pooh Bear suit, although Pooh is one of her favorite characters. Little by little, evening by evening, we convinced her, though (with a lot of modeling from K), and we slipped on the costume early Friday evening and began our short adventure.
First stop: our neighbor.
Despite our best efforts, though, getting L to say “Trick or treat!” proved to be more difficult than we’d anticipated. We suggested “Treat!” alone, and then tried “Candy!”, but none of them appealed to L’s sensibilities.
After unwrapping the lollipop L chose, we headed to Nana and Papa’s — they were waiting, thrilled to see L. As always.
Papa and K took the girl to the neighbors’ condos while I snapped a few pictures. L came back with a modest collection of suckers, mini-candy bars, and assorted fruity snacks.
It’s times like this that L’s growth is so evident.
Last year, L was a non-talking, bottle-drinking, virtually-toothless, not-yet-sleeping-through-the-night pumpkin. What changes await us during the next year? By then, she’ll be fully communicating and ever more independent — a blessing, which occasionally will make us long for the toothless, crying-at-two-in-the-morning version of L.