Dinner conversation

Sally: Why isn't Rudolph's nose shiny anymore?
Me: *blank stare*
Sally: He "HAD a very shiny nose."
Me: Oh. Well, he HAD a very shiny nose. But he also still has it. And he'll always have it.
Walter: Until he dies.
Me: Well, Rudolph is magical. I think he may be eternal.
Walter: You mean "nocturnal," Mama.

Sally, two days from two years old

Walter has entirely given up sleeping in his room, by himself, in his own bed.  He refers to the room Sean and I used to share as "his" room, and his bed, now. How we got to this point is a story, but it's a story for another time ... and maybe a story I will NOT record for posterity.  As you might imagine, this sleeping arrangement has put a damper on blogging. And many other things adults like to do. But, for now, making sure Walter gets enough sleep to behave well during the day is the priority, and this is how we're doing it.  So, tonight Sean sleeps with Walter, and I bunk in what is arguably the comfiest bed in the house, the single bed in Walter's room.

And that's good, because Sally is about to turn two (on Friday, the 21st) and I want to record a bit of what she was like tonight! And, if I want to blog anywhere near her birthday: this is my chance.  Carpe laptop!

It's Wednesday night, which means I eat dinner with the family and then head back to church for Holden Evening Prayer.  When I came home after worship all the lights were dark in the house but I heard lots of voices coming from Sally's room, so I slipped off my shoes and went in.  "Mama!" Sally greeted me warmly. "Mama come home!"

Walter usually greets me, too, but he was pretty engrossed in the 5 minute Disney Princess story Sean was reading. Sally was the opposite of engrossed (grossed out? not exactly ... but certainly not interested.)  She was taking care of her baby ("Baby Baby"), which is actually the baby we got Walter to get him ready for Sally's arrival about two years ago.  She was taking off Baby Baby's clothes. "It's dirty, otay? Take a bath. Take off clothes, otay?" I helped take off the pink pajamas, knowing that if I wasn't able to convince Sally to put the clothes back on right away we might have a permanently naked baby on our hands ... but this is the risk we take in imaginative play.

Photo credit: Walter Paul Edison-Albright

"Take a tub ... in dis!" She grabbed a foam cheesehead hat that was lying on the floor (the way we all do, in Central Wisconsin) and stuffed Baby Baby in. "Dere you go! Take a bath! Get clean! Put clothes on?" I jumped at this chance, but she changed her mind. "Take anudder tubby."  Into the cheesehead hat again. She carried the hat around a little, looking for a good place to put the makeshift tub. "On-na my head!" she joked, and tried to balance the hat-full-of-baby-doll on her head, giggling.

Out of nowhere, she came over and did her classic Sally "throw myself at you and you will catch me" move. I did, indeed, catch her. She gave me a nice hug. "Mama home again. I love you. I get you a nana, otay?" She headed to her bedroom door to get me a banana.  "I'm OK, Sally. I don't need a banana." Her attempt at hospitality thwarted, she frowned a little, offered the banana again with a look of loving concern, then decided to get me something else. "I get you ... a pull up!" She got a Dora the Explorer pull up out of her box for me, and repeated the gesture for Daddy. For Walty, who has been completely in undies for some time now, she got a diaper. He didn't mind, and thanked her kindly.

We arranged for the boys to head upstairs for part two of their bedtime routine, while I stayed with Sally for two more short books and some songs. Walter was very sweet ... Sally asked for ice water, and he got it for her, and she was like, "That my Walty." He gave us goodnight kisses.  The sleep is doing him good, and he is a good, good big brother indeed.

Our Sally is so beautiful

As we read books and settled into bed, Sally continued her almost constant stream of patter. When she asks a question and gets an answer, her response these days is "Ohhhhh" or, even more hilariously, "Ohhhhh. That's right!" Every answer she gets becomes confirmation of what she already knows to be true.

We read "Clifford's Family" ("SALLY'S family!" ... and then she named us all) and "Dora's Backpack"

Sally said: "Hooray, to Dora!" "Hooray, to Backpack!" "Hooray, to Boots!"

Our Sally is always talkin'!

I said: "Hooray for Sally!"
And she giggled. "No way," she said.
"Yes, way! You helped, you get hoorays, too."
"I say, 'Swiper no swipin'?"
"Yes you did! You stopped Swiper. And you counted books. And you solved the troll's riddle."
"Hooray for Sally!" she said, decisively.
"Hooray for Sally!" I echoed.
"Hooray for Mama!" said Sally, always gracious, always generous.
"Hooray for Mama!" I echoed again.

We sang some songs, and she went to bed in her big girl bed with no fuss. We haven't taken the crib down yet, and she still asks to sleep there sometimes, but we'll make that change, soon.

Lately, Sally's been asking us: "Sally baby?"
The answer, you should know is "No." Or, as Sally says it when we echo that question back to her:
"No WAY! Sally big girl!"

Happy soon-to-be-birthday, big girl Sally. We all love you very much.

Our Sally is two-years-old!

"Jesus wants me to go potty" and other Christmas stories

We have had some good, good holidays. Sally, who has been non-stop sick for who knows how long, rallied for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (before immediately falling headlong into the next upper respiratory infection.) We spent Christmas Eve at church, with our now-traditional soup-and-sandwich meal between services and the magical mixture of small children and open flames in worship. Sally wore a fierce hand-me-down black velvet suit and stomped/sashayed around the halls of Redeemer with the confidence of a tiny CEO.  Walter knows all the words to every Christmas song, and I think I caught him singing along with the congregation on one or two. We got into our Christmas Eve pajamas (at first, Walter was disappointed ... JUST pajamas? We explained that all other presents would come the next day) and set into serious Santa-related work. Before he went to bed, Walter spontaneously and genuinely thanked me for the pajamas, and made some statements of questionable theology/mythology:

"I think Jesus wants me to go potty, now. He will be so happy!"
"I think Santa will like that I'm wearing these pajamas.  WE SHOULD READ THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS!  He will like that so much."

A friend asked how we decided to include Santa in our Christmas celebrations, and how we're navigating the potential confusion and problems that Santa can bring.  Honestly, we're figuring it out as we go along.  Santa is imaginative play for Christmas time; Jesus is real and central to our lives at all times. Thinking and talking about both requires that we engage our imaginations and dream about things we can't see. It may be a little confusing, but Walter already feels the difference.  And then there was this conversation, while he and I wrote his letter to Santa a few days before Christmas:

"Mama, are you Santa?"
(Unprepared) "Do YOU  think I'm Santa?"
"Yup!"
"Santa is a fun game to play, isn't it?"
"Yeah ... E. is Santa, too!" (E. is a girl from church; Walter has quite a crush on her.)

So, who knows. On Christmas Eve Walter was very excited about Santa, and seemed to have suspended disbelief almost entirely. We put out his letter with a plate of cookies, a plate of carrots, and an empty glass with a straw (we figured Santa would want fresh, cold milk.)  Sean reminded Walter that Santa wouldn't come until we were all asleep, and Walter, who resists bedtime with the brilliance of a thousand lawyers, very seriously said, "Well!" (pulls up blanket, lies down on pillow, smooths and arranges blanket around him,) "Well, we should go to sleep right now, then!"  Sally went down pretty well, too, happy to be able to breathe for once and excited by all the excitement around her.  She said "Santa!" a few times that day, delighting us all.

Kids in bed, the adults in the house went to work.  Umma and Baba worked in their room in the basement, Baba adding another experience to his long, illustrious career of assembling complicated toys on Christmas Eve night (this year: an easel.  So wonderful!)  I cleaned up the living room and made space for the new toys: a dollhouse handed down from a family in the congregation, the easel, a chair for Sally, and more wrapped presents than felt seemly to me. It turned out not to be too much, I think ... the presents weren't all for the kids, after all.  But the sight of all of them that night gave me pause.  We decided to save stockings for our New Year celebration at Umma and Baba's house, to spread out the joy a bit.

I collected Walter's letter to Santa and replaced it with Santa's reply.  Here's Walter's letter, transcribed faithfully (with little to no leading) by me:

Dear Santa,

My name is Walter. I am three years old. My little sister's name is Sally and she's one. Mama's name is Mama. My dog is named Hankie and he went to the vet. Sally did some helpful things like coloring books and paper and a snowman (but it couldn't work.) My Daddy is named Sean; he's a helpful guy. I really like watching Winnie the Pooh. I like to do coloring books. My favorite colors are pink and purple.

For Christmas, I would like a purple blanket with my name on it, please. That's all.

Thank you for bringing me a present.

Love,
W (Walter's signature)

[You'll note that Hank's dinnertime trip to the vet was still fresh in his mind.  Not sure what the part about Sally and the snowman that couldn't work is all about. It was fun to record exactly what he said, knowing that this moment in his verbal expression is a fleeting one. ]

Here's Santa's letter:

Dear Walter,

Thank you for writing to me and for leaving such a delicious snack! I enjoyed the cookies and milk very much, and my reindeer loved the carrots.

You are such a good boy, and such a good helper! You are kind and loving. You are a wonderful big brother, too.

For Christmas I brought Sally a nice chair (she loves to sit on your chairs, I know!) For you, I made a special blanket that combines your two favorite colors into a pinkish purple, and it has your name on it! I also had my elves make something extra special for you, too. [Editor's note; a purple bath robe with Walter's name on it.]

Keep up the great work with your dry-all-day and good sleeping stickers! [Walter's eyes went wide and he gave a huge smile, at that line.]

Love, Santa

PS I found the jingle bell you wanted to give me. I love it. I left you one for you to keep and play with, too.

The kids slept in a bit on Christmas morning.  Baba was in place, ready with the camera, waiting for them to come into the living room and see everything.  I don't remember realizing, as a kid, how excited adults are about Christmas.  But we are!  It is so exciting for us. Walter and Sally came out and immediately started playing with the dollhouse together.  They moved over to the easel from Umma and Baba and checked that out, too, with great earnest concentration.  They found Sally's chair, which Walter thought should be his ("Purple is MY favorite color!") but they took turns sitting in it with no conflict throughout the day.  We got them sitting down and read Santa's letter.  Their attention, at the point in the day, was absolutely rapt.  Walter opened his presents from Santa and was utterly, totally delighted with both blanket and robe.  That probably would have been enough for presents, right there.

We took a break to make breakfast, Walter taking the lead on making the traditional Christmas morning puff pancakes.  They didn't rise very much (the chemistry is tricky) but they were tasty.  After breakfast we opened presents, and it was very fun.  Sally got a stuffed kitty, a box of little Frozen books, a set of self-inking stampers.  Walter got a stamp set, the Frozen soundtrack, and a huge roll of tickets with a star-shaped puncher for playing train.  I got a soda stream for making my own selzer! Sean got a year-long subscription to Field Notes, his favorite source for little notebooks for writing down story ideas.  I record this, not to revel in the materialism of the day, but because these gifts we gave and received this year to seemed to fit us especially well, and reflect who we are and how we like to play together.

We took a break for lunch and nap and there were still more presents to open (Walter had opened most of his at this point ... the adults were a little behind on our stacks.) We tried to open only one present at a time, giving our attention to each person while they were opening.  This broke down a bit as the day went on, but everyone was in good spirits. We had a wonderful dinner together and Umma and Baba headed home.

The next day, Sally started to get sick again.  Was that the pink eye? Or the bad cough?  It's all blurred together. She had a very, very sick and sleepless couple of days and nights before we gathered ourselves together and headed down to Umma and Baba's for Holidays Part II.  The change of scenery and the improved adult-to-kid ratio was exactly what we all needed, and by the time we headed home it was clear that Sally was truly on the mend this time.

Our days with Umma and Baba were filled with much fun and many firsts.  Walter watched "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" (animated, of course) for the first time, and enjoyed it.  We also broke down and rented Frozen, a little nervous about the scary parts and feature-length screen time, but we broke it up with an intermission, talked to him during and after, and it went really well.  Hilariously, Sally started saying, "Elsa" and singing, "Goooooo!" (Let it Go.) She went to the window, pointed at the bare grass outside and said, "Elsa. Snow. Snoowwww. Snow, please!"

The one-week-delayed stockings were a hit and a complete delight. (Walter, when we told him there would be stockings the next day: "I think Santa will probably just bring us some cookies. Because we already had a lot of presents, right?")  The little stocking presents, separated from the big and abundant presents of Christmas, brought Walter to great exclamations of joy. "A LITTLE PINK WHISK! LIPSTICK!" (that's what he calls lip balm, a standard Edison-Swift stocking gift.) "A COOMMBBBBB!"

Sally seemed to especially thrive these holiday days, even when goopy and pukey.  She tried to jump with us while we were playing xBox and ended up with this adorable stretch of joy.  She showed off her yoga moves and did lots of dancing and mischief making.  She also nursed. Constantly.  We had been getting pretty close to weaning, I think ... down to once or twice a day.  And then she got sick, and then it was all over. No more going to sleep on her own, no more cuddles that didn't involve nursing.  She was literally attached to me at all times.  Sally asking to nurse tends to escalate quickly from inquisitive, to conversational, to demanding, to panicked ... transcribed, it's something like this: "Mo? Mo mo mo mo mo. Mo?! MO MO!! MOHHHHHHHHH!"

Now that she's really feeling better, we're starting to ratchet down the nursing again, but it's hard on me to go through the painful process of my supply being too much again. My body is worn out from these past few weeks.  Walter asked, "When will Sally be done nursing?" I replied honestly: "I don't know.  Sally, do you think you'll be done nursing, soon?" "No!" she said, cheerfully, Definitively.

I love our nursing time together, but I trust that, as with Walter, Sally and I will still be close and snuggle when the time for weaning comes.  Figuring out when that time should be is tough, though.  It was easier with Walter, because around the time he started seeming ready for it I needed to wean anyway because I was pregnant with Sally.  Not sure how it'll happen this time around.

Sally's vocabulary is out of this world, and growing every day.  She says, "Walter" so clearly now!  She also sings, especially Twinkle, Row Row, Itsy Bitsy, Baa Baa and Let it Go.  She likes to count.  If you say, "one" she'll say, "two" and sometimes even "three."  She loves to say not just "no" but a very sassy little, "No way!" I think my favorite Sally pronunciation is "yocks!" for "socks" and "ishies" for "shoes."  Her smiles are just incredible, and she is very generous with them.  She's also been giving wonderful, whole-hearted, full body hugs and snuggles.  I thought they were just a symptom of being chronically tired and sick, but she's continued to give them even as she feels better. Baba tears up every time she lays her head down on his shoulder and gently pats his back.

He's had a rough day here and there, but Walter is doing very well overall.  He's stayed pretty healthy, which gives me hope for Sally. He is very earnest and serious sometimes, but also very silly and funny.  There's no way I could possibly keep up with all the wonderful things he says and does, but here are some recent examples:

"I didn't play Frozen today.  But I THINKED about Frozen all day."

I don't remember what exactly we were talking about, but it had to do with noses. After a bit, Walter chimed in. "While we're on the subject of noses ... I am going to get your nose!"

"I have no tinkle in my body."

Walter and I were lying in bed, watching a cooking show.  Suddenly, his head popped up and he scrambled off the bed and headed toward the stairs. "I need to go check on the roast!"
"Ok!" I said.  I worried about him slipping on the stairs in his socks. "Be careful!"
 "Because it's really hot, right?" he said. "It's OK, I'll just peek." And away he went.  He returned with a wooden toy fish, wrapped up in a string, roast-style (Sean tells me Walter wrapped a hot dog like a roast the other day. He's very proud of the roast that he made with Daddy for Christmas Eve.) I pretended to eat the fish and said, "It's so moist! I love the flavor." Head up again, scrambling down the stairs: "I forgot to add the flavor! There's no flavor in there.  I'll go get some lemon!"

While riding home from daycare, Walter observed: "Not all of these houses have chimneys."

Looking at photo magnet of the family when I was pregnant with Sally: "Was Sally just under your shirt, or all the way inside your body?  Why can't Daddies have babies in their bodies?"

Instead of a saying "reindeer," Walter often calls Sven from Frozen "Kristoph's reinSven." This is almost as cute as when he just tries to say Sven, which comes out as something like: "Fzvennmen."

He often has a signature phrase or word that we tend to then adopt as a favorite family thing to say.  When he was younger, there was the sweet and memorable, "How about that to you?" These days, he tends to add "right" to many things.  "We are going to see Henry today, right?" Me; "Right." Walter; "Right!"

Driving down to Umma and Baba's, we went over a bumpy patch of road. "Mama, are you OK? Did that hurt you?"  "I'm OK, Walter, the bumpy road doesn't hurt me anymore." "But it DID give you an owie. When we were going to get my haircut." I started to cry (it was dark, and I was in the front seat, so I don't think Walter could see) and Sean took over reassuring Walter.  The owie he's referring to happened over a year ago, two months after Sally was born, shortly after my gallbladder surgery.  We were excited to all get out of the house and take Walter for a much-needed haircut.  Sean took the speed bump at a fairly normal clip, but I was still so tender from the surgeries that it made me cry out in pain.  Walter kept asking about it, until finally we could show and reassure him that my owies had healed, and bumps wouldn't hurt me anymore.  But he still asks about it from time to time.  Last week we had quite a bonk during a hug, and I needed an ice pack right away to avoid getting a shiner.  This week, out of the blue one night, he asked, "Mama, are you doing better? After my head hit your glasses, how are you doing now?"

His empathy is a wonderful thing.  But it breaks my heart when he worries about me like that.

"A Daddy" by Walter, age 3

I had this hope/dream/vision that we'd put the kids to bed early on New Year's Eve and Umma, Baba, Sean and I would play a game of cards, or maybe dominoes.  Didn't happen.  Both kids were up late; Sally was pukey (this is what we do on New Year's.)  I miss doing grown up fun stuff sometimes ... not "partying" per se ... really, just board games, cards and dominoes.  But Umma introduced Walter to Memory and Candy Land, and he did beautifully with them.  Grandparents are the best at seeing when the kids are ready to try something new like that.  I'd been worrying about the lack of representational drawing in Walter's life ... he mostly does swirls and squiggles.  But then he started drawing "H" for Henry on his new easel (again ... grandparents) and I asked him to draw a flower and he did, and then he drew a person, "a Daddy," with a perfectly round head, wide-spaced eyes and a curvy smile.  He's getting smarter every minute, taking it all in and putting it all together.  He'll be playing Royal Rummy in no time.

With Sally, the change is even more profound, and I don't always recognize it, because she's physically so small, still (Walter is her height when he kneels) and, you know, she's My Baby.  But she's not at all a baby anymore, really.  She understands everything we say, not just the words, but the real meaning of what we say and how we say it, and what we're asking her to do.  She comprehends the world around her and how it works like a child does, not like a baby.

Two nights ago I was having trouble getting her to sleep and decided to try something new. I'd left her crying in her crib, walking out without talking to her/making eye contact/engaging ... this is a sleep training technique.  After she cried for awhile I went in and asked her if I could rub her back. "Yeah!" she said, catching her breath as her tears slowed down.  I started to lay her down in her crib and she screamed "No!" and stomped her feet. "Sally, it's Ok." I said. "It's just bedtime. You're safe, and we love you.  You're in your nice bed, with your baby doll and your nice warm blankie. If you lie down, I can tuck you in and rub your back a little bit.  Can you lie down on your belly for me?" I patted the pillow with my hand.  She thought about it, standing and clutching the crib rail, looking down occasionally at the pillow.  I patted the pillow again.  She decided to do it.  She let go of the side of the crib and lay down on her belly with her head on the pillow.  I covered her with the blanket and she snuggled in, smiling.  I started to rub her back and she popped her head up and said, "Itsy!"  What a good idea!  I sang, "The itsy bitsy spider" while doing the actions for the song on her back, and she loved it, snuggling under the cover and smiling and giggling a little.  When I finished, she asked me to do it again, and I said, "OK, I'll do it one more time. But then I am going to leave your room, and you are going to go to sleep."  She nodded.  I sang the song and sent the spider up and down her back. Then I ran my fingers through her her hair, said, "Goodnight, I love you!" and left. Her eyes were wide open, she was smiling; she did not cry.  It was a miracle!

We remember to explain things to Walter; we don't always do that for Sally.  But we need to, now, because she's ready for it. She's listening and learning and reasoning her way through the world at an alarmingly sophisticated level.  She wants us to try reasoning with her--if she chooses to be unreasonable, then fine: at least we gave her the choice.

Last night Sally skipped her "right after daycare" nursing and had a full night of playing and mischief-making.  By the time she looked at me and said, "Mo?" we both knew she was asking for bedtime, too.  "Nigh nigh?" I asked.  "Nigh nigh" she said, smiling, relieved. We nursed, and I let her linger there, until she fell heavy asleep in my arms.  How many more nights like this? I don't know, so I held onto her for awhile and she started to snore. I put her down in her crib and her snores didn't miss a beat.  Two nights ago, she was making independent sleep choices.  Last night, she was my baby again.  But of course, she is both.

We're all the cusp of things, these days.  We are not quite there yet but also there already.  Children have an innate, embodied understanding of eschatology.  The mysteries of the faith are made momentarily clear in them: these little miracles, these incarnations.  So, maybe Jesus does want Walter to use the potty.

He will (has been, is, and ever shall) be so happy!

Let's talk about Sally

Just by looking at her, you can tell a lot about what kind of 15-month-old Sally is.  She's always got a bruise or two on her noggin. She's not particularly clumsy, she just has no concern for her own safety. The big bruise in these pictures happened at daycare when she dove headfirst over the back of a toddler-sized couch.  She also recently dove headfirst out of Sean's arms, and would have hit the floor, but (fortunately?) hit the wall instead, with such force that she bounced right back into Sean's arms.  She's never been disoriented, no signs of concussion or serious injury.  But she scares us, routinely. When we're able to stop her before an accident happens, she insistently goes right back and tries to do it again.

We gave a penguin-shaped icepack to Sally after she hit the wall, and tried to convince her to put it on her owie by having the penguin kiss her forehead.  She decided the penguin's name was Owie, and will now, with great delight and desire, ask for him by name, saying, "Owie! Owie!" and pointing and gesturing emphatically.

When she has a close call--almost hurting herself, but managing to stop or minimize the damage--Sally says, with the perfect cadence, "Whoa!"

If I'd managed to write a 14 month round up, I probably could have made a decently accurate list of Sally's first words.  Now, it just feels futile ... the girl talks all the time, breaking out new words without breaking a sweat every day.  She repeats words back to us, too, which makes the list almost limitless. She's still mostly communicating at Curious George level, I'd say.  We're big fans of the animated Curious George series on PBS, and George doesn't speak, per se, but imitates speech in a way that's very communicative and easy to interpret, with some of the words ("Ok"and "uh huh" for example) being almost perfectly formed, and the rest a very intelligible mix of monkey and English.  We understand our little monkey perfectly much of the time, and some things anyone meeting her would be able to understand, while others would require a bilingual interpreter (me, Sean or Walter, usually.)

Some of the things Sally likes to say (not a comprehensive list!):

Sticker
Bubble (one of her first words ... she loves washing her hands)
Thank you
More (this is her word for nursing, too, but sounds more like "Mo" when she's using it to mean nursing and not just more of something else.)
All done
Mama
Dada
Waba (Walter)
Baba
Umma
Pop Pop (still working on "Grandma")
Cheese
Please (she uses sign for this one, along with the word)
Kitty
Dog
Hank

Moo (What does the cow say?)
Baa (What does the sheep say?)
Woof woof (What does the dog say?)
*sniff sniff* (What does the bunny say?)
Ball (this was also one of her first words)
Row row
Diaper (she tells us sometimes when she needs a new one, and signs diaper, too.)
Fishy (she uses this to mean fish and shoes, too.  It sounds like, "Ishies!")
No (a fan favorite.)
Yes
Uh huh
Here you go (said as all one word.)
Uh uh
Whoa!
Daniel
Sally
Baby
Elmo
Hot

And almost anything else you prompt or ask her to say.  She will try it! She's game.

Sally's game for most new things, in fact, which makes her a lot of fun to be with.  She loves all kinds of foods and eats cheerfully and heartily in a totally undiscriminating manner.  She likes meeting new people and going to new places; she's almost always up for an adventure, even if she's tired or not feeling well.

It's (not quite, technically) winter in Wisconsin, so of course she's not feeling well.  She got tubes in her ears a little over a month ago, and that seems to have ended the endless ear infections.  She's been sick since then, but hasn't needed antibiotics.  We're currently monitoring a nasty cough.  Her upper molars are almost all the way in, and her bottom molars are close behind.  She's got canines peeking through her top gums, too.  It's kind of remarkable how cheerful she is given all of this, and the frequent head injuries, too.

And Sally is very cheerful ... and very, very sad.  Oh, the sad.  I was explaining to our friend J., who's expecting his first baby in February, that the sadness of toddlers is real.  She cries real tears, and she means it when her face crumples and she starts to wail.  But, if you give her a little space and not a lot of direct attention, she gets over it just as quickly as it comes on. The trouble comes when you have to intervene and pay attention, because she's doing something naughty or dangerous.  The will is strong with this one.  Very strong. And she's not open to being reasoned with at all, or being distracted or redirected. It makes a person tired, sometimes.  Other times it's kind of funny and cute ... the way she rolls her eyes and sticks her chin up in the air, shaking her tiny butt and singing, "No! No no no!" as she walks away from me and toward whatever gaping chasm she's interested in at the time. She's very charming, Sally.  But we try not to let on too much when her defiance strikes us as especially cute, looking ahead to days when it might not come in such adorable, relatively safe, forms.

Sally and I were having a serious disagreement about markers the other day... a disagreement that is actually ongoing (she keeps testing, giving me the look, to see if I'm going to stop her from writing on non-paper surfaces again.  Persistence over the course of days, weeks ... that's Sally.)  The disagreement made both of us crabby with each other.  I have a strong will, too.  Walter observed all this, and eventually said, "Mama, do you still love Sally?"

"Of course I do!  With my whole heart, just like I love you!  No matter what, right?"

Walter nodded, looking thoughtful.  He's still not entirely convinced.  So, we keep telling him, and her, and trying to show them in every way we can.  The truth is, they are easy to love.  Even when they are at their most difficult.

I pick Sally up and cover her in kisses. Walter makes funny faces and makes up silly words.  Sean calls her "Salamander" and gazes lovingly into her eyes.  She rolls her eyes at us, but, obligingly, smiles.

She knows.

***
Ok, so immediately after I posted this I thought of like a million more favorite Sally words (or rather, I heard her say them after she woke up from her nap.) So:
Bye bye
Hi
Hello (Hi-Oh!)
Duck
Quack
Eyes
Nose ("no")
Snow (also "no."  Context is all.)
Agua (we kept correcting her and saying "wawa," until I heard her daycare teacher repeat it back to her as "agua." Bilingual baby. Noted!)
Hat (usually said while patting her head. "Hat hat!")
Arm, leg, hand, toes ... great at identifying and saying the body parts
On! ("On on on!" This can mean she wants something on, or that she wants something off, something open, something closed, etc.)

With all these actual words to choose from, she also still really likes chatting to herself saying, "dibbadibbadee."

Great example of Sally's persistence and planning and Walter's advances in Executive Function from tonight: Sally wanted to play in the "bags and wraps" drawer, full of expensive bags and sharp edges for tearing plastic wrap.  After a struggle, I diverted her by opening the rag drawer and asking her to clean the floor, which she did.  Walter joined in and they were very industrious together.  Walter even disappeared for a few seconds and came back with a damp rag he'd taken to the bathroom, wet, and wrung out himself.  They got lots of rags dirty and had a good time. Walter didn't even want to stop for Advent wreath and cake time. As soon as we all had cake in front of us, Sally told Sean she was all done and wanted to get down ... and immediately went back to the forbidden drawer. Her plan all along had been to wait until we were distracted, and the cake provided the perfect opportunity.  When Sean stood and ate his cake in front of the doors, Sally relented.  And asked for some cake.  As soon as Walter was done with his cake, he went over to the drawers, and I watched him think about which one he was going to open.  He chose the rag drawer, and resumed his task, very pleased with his good decision.

I was pretty impressed with both of them!  Sally's learning how to hatch plots, and Walter's learning how to delay gratification.  I watched him stare at a spoonful of whipped cream at Thanksgiving, waiting for the coffee to be ready so he could put it in the coffee, wanting to eat it right away but willing himself to wait. And he did it.  He got his hand painted when we went to see Santa this weekend, and stayed perfectly still and did not touch the painting until it was dry.  It was amazing to watch.  And even though I don't like the contest of wills that often comes with it, I love watching Sally persist, and plan, and come up with all kinds of different problem-solving strategies in her quest to get whatever she's after.

Proud mama.  Headed to bed before I think of any more words to add!

MICE communion!

Walter is super possessive, I think moreso than his peers.  He's really into saying "My turn!" these days, which tends to mean "This and every other toy is mine and my turn is infinitely long."

He also says "mine" but he's been mis-pronouncing it.  And so he ends up saying very sternly, seriously and certainly: "MICE!"

Walter is often very little and very grown up in the same moment. So far, Sean and I have been very successful at not laughing during these moments.

In other news, Walter now says "peanut butter" instead of "bilily" and "chicken" instead of "bawk bawk."  I'm impressed and wistful at the same time.

This is my very-buried-lead way of saying that Walter took communion for the first time today, and I was impressed and wistful at the same time, and he was so little and so grown up in the same moment, and most of all I just couldn't contain all the joy of sharing this beautiful gift from God with my son. As I cried through everything after communion and practically sprinted to the back of the church to get my big post-worship hug from Walter, one of our dear friends and congregation members said, "Your cup is overflowing." Amen. Alleluia! (Or, as Walter says, "A-min! Allelula!")

Sean carried Walter up for communion. Umma went first to show him how to do it. I handed Walter a wafer and expected him to eat it right away.  Instead he asked, "Dip it in?" We'd been debating in the van on the way to church whether or not Walter would be able to handle intinction.  In fact, Baba had said, "Is he going to D-I-P the the wafer in?" and from the back of the van Walter said, "DIP!" We maybe need to start coming up with strategies other than spelling.

So, Walter, who had been paying attention in the van and who has probably been paying attention to communion for a very long time (in Walter time) before this day, looked up at me and said, "Dip it in?" And I said, "Yes, you can dip it in. Daddy will show you how."  He watched Daddy dip his wafer in the grape juice and then dipped his own wafer in, of course putting his fingers all the way down into the chalice (*shudder* we'll work on that.) When he brought the wafer out he wasn't sure what to do.  Daddy gently gave his elbow a nudge and made a little Cookie Monster "om nom nom" noise.  Walter ate the wafer, chewing very thoughtfully.

He's brought it up throughout the day today.  "Communion! Dip!" and also, "Communion again? Dip again?" and, memorably, "MICE communion! Please!" He's excited to have it again next week.

I always underestimate what Walter knows and understands, in part because I don't want to overestimate and forget that he's still so little, and still lacking in so much basic life experience. The possessiveness thing for example ... parents of older kids remind me not to be too hard on Walter, because, from a child development perspective, he can't grasp the concept of sharing right now the way he'll be able to a year from now.  The area of what Walter knows and understands and what he doesn't know and understand is still mysterious to me, though, and something I only figure out in bits and glimpses.

The great thing about sacraments (one of the great things about sacraments) is that what Walter does or doesn't understand is irrelevant.  Baptism and communion are gifts from God: tangible, splash-able, taste-able signs of God's love and God's promises. God does the work: God turns water into forgiveness and eternal life, God turns bread and wine into the true presence of Jesus Christ, who IS forgiveness and eternal life. Walter doesn't need to know the finer points of Lutheran theology to receive these gifts (although I hope he has an interest in learning it someday, because I would enjoy sharing that with him, too.)

For the record, I think Walter knows communion is something very special, and that it's a wonderful thing that he gets to share with his family at church.  Today at church he also got to see a long-longed-for baby get baptized, and later he got to be there to celebrate a renewal of marriage vows. He also got tons of attention from the pre-teens and teens who are so sweet with him, living out the promises they made when he was baptized by helping us raise Walter in the faith (mostly by playing peek-a-boo with him. And teaching him how to say "hamburger" and "pickle.")

It was a cup-overflowing kind of day. Amen. Alleluia!

**Edited to Add** I realized shortly after posting this last night that Walter isn't mis-pronouncing "Mine," he's saying "My's." He's figured out that the usual rule in English for making things possessive is adding "-'s" (Mama's, Dada's, Walter's, etc.)  Sean says such over-regularizing of language is common among kids his age. I think it's freaking brilliant.

Good day

Just a few stories from today that are too good not to record somehow:

• When I picked him up from daycare, Walter picked up a yellow ball and showed it to me.  "What color is that?" I asked.  "YELLOW!" I think he reads this blog and uses it to figure out what skills he's going to work on, next. 
• When I put my turn signal on to turn into our driveway, Walter said: "Home!"
• Walter, who was recently on strike against all fruits, vegetables, and anything that might be construed as healthy, ate a very complete dinner of rice, salmon and green beans.  He especially liked it when Mama or Dada would feed him a little piece of salmon and a green bean together using chopsticks.  He'd never had salmon before, and I liked watching his face as he tasted it for the first time.  Very much a "this is new ... but not entirely bad" series of expressions.
• Walter did great building with his blocks tonight, turning each one around in his hands a few times before carefully placing them to build a wall, and then a different kind of wall, and then a neat stairway like structure. You can tell his puzzle-loving mind is working overtime, trying to figure out how to turn what he's imagining into something he can build. 
• Walter didn't want to go to sleep tonight, even though he was very sleepy.  He ended up being so endearing that I almost didn't want him to go to sleep, either ... I just wanted to snuggle him and sing and watch him do the funny little dance he does standing up in his crib. He sang "Dona Nobis Pacem" along with us so beautifully. Sally bopped along, in time with the music.  After Mama left the room there was some crying, and then a little drinking of some wawa, and then Dada left the room, and then zzzzzzzzzzz. 

Walter and the Wall

Three little words

I mentioned before that Walter has started in on three word sentences.  Tonight's was the best yet.

We got home a little late from an outing to Kohl's.  Baba was in the kitchen, putting stuff away. (Baba is staying with us this week while Sean is out of town.) I was with Walter in the living room, taking off my shoes.

Walter was doing what's he's done every day this week ... as soon as his feet hit the floor, he's off and running to his train track.  Baba and Walter fashioned a tunnel out of a piece of his Noah's ark, and sending his train through that tunnel has been a source of endless entertainment.  Recently he's been reinacting his favorite video of the moment, "Cookie Monster and the Ballad of Casey Macphee," which Walter calls "AB choo choo" or "Cookie uh-oh."

It's the epic tale of a heroic engineer faced with both danger and an ethical dilemma. It has also added the word "avalanche" to Walter's vocabulary.  He knows Cookie is going to be OK, but the avalanche makes him nervous every time. Retelling and acting out the story seems to help.  He does this by putting crayons on his train track, sending his train over them, and then rescuing the train when it derails.

Tonight he was setting the stage for this drama when a piece of his train track came loose.  The track is made to fit together like a very basic jigsaw puzzle. I've pointed this out to Walter before, and any mention of "puzzle" intrigues him, but so far he hadn't been able to put it together himself. Tonight he asked for help right away. "Help please Baba!" he called out. Baba answered from the kitchen that he was on his way.

In the amount of time it took Baba to get to the living room and for me to take off my left shoe, something remarkable happened.  Walter ran over to me and said, very proudly, "Walter got it!"

I looked up and, sure enough, Walter had put the track together himself. "That's wonderful, Walter!" I said. "You put the track together all by yourself.  I'm very proud of you." He smiled a big smile and went back over to the table to play.  "Are you proud, too?" I asked.  He looked up at me and nodded.

"Walter got it!" What a great sentence. What a great kiddo.

My son, Dadu

There are things you should know about Walter.

First, he pronounces his own name as "Dadu." We're not entirely sure what to make of this, because he can make the "w" sound really well.  When we say "Walter" does he hear "Dadu"? Or has he given himself a new name?  We think probably the latter.  He responds to Walter, but he gives a special little smile when we call him "Dadu," and sometimes he seems to be correcting us. "Ahem.  I prefer 'Dadu.'"

I figured that, at some point in his life, Walt might wonder why we gave him such a funny old name.  I even thought he might choose a new name or nickname for himself. I didn't think it would happen at 18 months, though!

You should also know that Walter is putting words together. Some recent favorites: "Bye bye choo choo!" "Mama cornbread" and "New puzzle."

Ah, puzzles. "PUZZLES!" Walter loves them.  He recently mastered a five-piece jigsaw puzzle at day care.  We haven't been able to find anything like it to buy for him, yet, but we got a few new puzzles including an alphabet puzzle he's getting very good at.  His fondness for the word has led Sean to teach him this version of the famous How I Met Your Mother dialog:

Sean: "We should open a bar.  We should totally open a bar.  What should we call it?"
Walter: "Puzzles!"

This is one of the main reasons we decided to have children.

Walter has a huge vocabulary and we've totally lost count at this point.  One of his best words/phrases is "ahkaiday?" which means "what's that called?"  He uses that to gather new words all the time.

But his favorite word isn't new.  It's kind of a classic.  His favorite word is "no."  Now, I know what you're thinking.  "Uh oh," you're saying to yourself, "Terrible twos starting early!" And that's probably true, but Sean and I have both been surprised by how ... well, charmed we are by his use of the word.  He has an enormous range of expressiveness with his no's.  And most of the time it really is quite endearing.

"Uh oh," you're thinking. And you're right. We are in big trouble and we know it.

Walter sings entire songs by himself now, with impressive accuracy.  He continues to shut down completely in the presence of strangers (and even relatively familiar acquaintances) but on our evening walks he gives a hearty "Hi!" and "woof woof!" to every neighborhood dog. This seems to be helping him warm up to our human neighbors, too.  When he talks to himself in his crib at night and in the morning he either sings a little song or names everyone he knows, including Hank ("Hankee!") and all his daycare classmates.

This weekend Umma and Baba visited and we had wonderful Mother's Day celebrations together.  Walter debuted many Dadu-improved songs, including "Hankee-hankee-hankee-luuu-ia." and "Old MacDonald Had a Cookie." We went to the Portage County Cultural Festival, we played and played, we even napped a little.  Every once and awhile, though, he'd stop what he was doing, point to one or both of his ears, and say very clearly, "Ow!"  Walt's been a little congested (we suspect a pollen allergy) and there was a little bit of not-bad looking discharge in his right ear, but he seemed pretty healthy to us.  We wondered if maybe he was experimenting with the concept of "ow": trying to figure out what it means and how the word works. Still, it seemed like a communication breakthrough of sorts and we decided to follow up on it right away.

I took him in to see Dr. L Monday morning.  It turns out that the tube in his left ear is out of place and making its way out of his ear (not unexpected, we're in the time frame now when that usually happens.)  The right ear, with the discharge, is draining just fine and looks great.  The left ear isn't draining anymore and is infected. 10 days of oral antibiotics (so not fun, let me tell you) and then we've got an appointment to see the pediatric ENT to figure out what's next.

Being able to communicate this way with our son is pretty amazing.  When he's scared or uncertain of something, he wants to talk it through with us.  During dinner, he tells us about his day. ("Choo choo." "Bus." "Slide." "Aubriella." "Henry.") And, now, when he's hurting he can tell us and show us what hurts.

Whatever name you know him by, this kid is pretty awesome.

Every time he does this, it completely makes my day

Walter: "pbbbbbbbbttttt." (pause) "Camel."

Odds and Ends

It's Friday, my Sabbath day, and I've spent most of it in bed.  Hank has been my constant companion.  He stood by the bed and gently reminded me that it was time to wake up this morning.  He slept in his bed at the foot of my bed, woke up with me and accompanied me downstairs for lunch, then back upstairs.  I just apologized to him for disturbing him when I got up to go to the bathroom.  Now that it's past 4pm, he's dividing his time between the top of the bedroom stairs and the living room to keep an eye on me and be close to the door for when Sean and Walter get home.  If they arrive any later than 5pm, he'll take up a post by the front door to wait for them more intently.

The receptionist at our vet's office observed yesterday that Hank is a "very family oriented dog." It's true.  I worry about how much he worries about us.  I feel terrible for his prematurely white muzzle, which developed during the last weeks of my pregnancy and first weeks of Walter's arrival. But I am thankful for his watchful, protective companionship, for his ministry of warm, furry presence.

This morning Walter delighted in bringing Hank his collar, and later his leash to get him ready for his morning walk.  He greets his dog every morning with a cheerful "Hank-eeeee!"  Walter knows.  We're a lucky family.

***

Walter woke up this morning singing "Happy birthday day to you!" which is pretty neat, since it's his 16 month birthday today.  He is bright and beautiful beyond bearing, really.  I get overwhelmed at least once a day with it. This morning he also sang, "A, B, C ..." when he usually just says "A, B" and stops there.  We were overjoyed and clapped and praised him.  He was pleased but very embarrassed, tucking his chin down to his chest to hide his secret smile, turning around and heading right out the door of his room.  The bashfulness ... where does it come from? Will it continue?  Does he secretly know how to sing the entire alphabet already?  I suspect he does.

These days Walter loves: his bath crayons ("colors!"), anything Jim Henson, especially Elmo (we may have had some influence, here, but he's taken to it like bath crayons to our tub,) crackers and cookies (sometimes foods, Walter, these are sometimes foods,) broccoli (gotta balance out the crackers,) being sung to and listening to music and, more and more, chiming in with the songs.  He is perfecting the dramatic heavy sigh of frustration and disappointment.  He occasionally makes wookiee noises when he's really upset.  I don't laugh at him when he does this, but I do tuck my chin down and smile a little bit.

Walter's favorite word ...

... is crocodile.

When he wakes up in the morning it is one of the first things he says--"ccchhhhroccckkkohdial"--like he's been dreaming about the word all night and practicing it in his sleep. He says it at home and at daycare; it's not his most-used word, but he says it at least once a day.

There are so many things every day that make me think "I have to write that down.  I have to remember this."  Tonight it was the crazy case of the giggles he got while nursing before bed, resulting in an unfortunate case of the wet hiccups. And the way he added in his two cents over the baby monitor while we watched the presidential debate.  And the way he walked all over the church during our Wednesday night activities, even walking right up to me while I led worship from the lectern ... a "first" my congregation has been predicting for awhile.

Walt and Henry the day that inspired us to get the boy some shoes

He got his first pair of shoes and took less than one day to adapt to walking in them. He went to his first birthday party, a one year celebration for his best friend, Henry. (Walter and Henry have been day care friends since 3 months; sometimes they'll make eye contact and start cracking up out of nowhere, sharing a joke that no one else is in on.) Walter likes eating stews and other complex, multi-layered, textured and flavored foods, making his daddy the cook very proud.  He likes to help Daddy cook, too, pushing his first pork roll around the pan with a pair of tongs.

There's no way I can possibly keep up with it all, remember it all, record it all.  But I am enjoying it all very, very much.

Crocodile!