Quotable

Trying to put a plot or order to these quotes would rob them of their essence, which is random.  Assorted snippets from the last couple of weeks.  Welcome to our world.

• On the way through Chick Fil A to the bathroom: "Mama, you have pee?" like eight times.  In the bathroom: "Mama, you need toilet paper? I get toilet paper for you, Mama. [Tries to get it but can't figure it out.] Mama, you get toilet paper by yourself."

• We spent Labor Day playing at my friend Holly's house, which has every toy known to man and a pool.  Andrew napped not at all except 40 minutes in the car on the way home (beginning at 6:30pm).  Some actual bumps in the road abruptly ended the nap.  Once he figured out he was awake, he started wailing like a wounded animal for about half an hour.  I turned on my SuperMom and tried to comfort him.  This was our exchange during one those attempts.  M: "It's okay, Andrew.  Your mom's right here."  A: [wails * sobs * hits ] "Noooooo, you're [gasp] not [sniff] right here. [choke] [gasp ] You're [sniff] at [gasp] Holly's hooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuse."

• The next morning, he was cheerful and rested.  Then apparently I blinked funny or did something else wrong because he burst into tears, wailing "I need to go to Holly's hooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuse."

• "Everybody say 'Good job, Vivienne!'"  That was Andrew, not me, and it was at 10:30pm.

• "Mama, I hurt my body."

• "Mama, I got a boo boo right here and I got a boo boo right there and -- don't touch it Mama -- and I got a boo boo right here."

• [Successful moving of bowels into the potty, which is now in his bedroom, followed by this hysterical tantrum when I removed the potty and its overwhelming stench to the bathroom and immediately flushed the offender] "MAMA I WANTED TO SEE THAT POOP MAMAAAAA."

• [referring to his room-temp PJ pants] "It's very hot. Only Andrew touch it."

• Mom: "Andrew, do you want to eat your asparagus?" A: "No, I don't want it." M: "May I please eat it?" A: "No. You ate your food already."

All in a day's work

Andrew's school is a special place.  I chose it because the rooms where the kids spend their days felt very loving when I toured them.  The babies were engaged and alert, the toddlers were doing stuff I didn't know toddlers could do (but which I've sinced learned is all they want to do), and the older kids were confident and independent.

Especially since there are a few teachers and former teachers in Andrew's extended family, I thought I'd share some pictures of the place Andrew spends most of his waking hours.

Here's the new playground, which they've been raising money for since before Andrew was born and was finally finished a few months ago.  It's lovely; the space is large and nicely landscaped, and there's lots of stuff to hold the interest of kids from ages 1-5.  The babies take a couple of daily buggy strolls around the perimeter of the playground.

Now on to Andrew's classroom.  The teachers usually write a summary of one of the day's activities on a poster on the door.  It's both to let parents know what the kids do and also to provide a jumping-off point for more conversation about it.  Andrew and I jump off sometimes, but other times we forget.  He forgives me.

The room is big and FULL of good stuff.  A hallmark of Montessori is to nurture and foster a child's natural desire for independence by enabling him to do as much as possible by and for himself.  So everything is at child level, including the sink.  Hard on the adults, but the kids love it.  That's Andrew and John washing their hands. 

Here's the big carpet where the kids gather for circle time, to learn lessons, and to do the work that doesn't need to be done at a table.  Nearby there's a basket of rugs about the size of door mats.  Rugs are a big deal at school.  Starting from the 18-24 month old room, they learn to get a rug and put their work on the rug.  They also have special lessons devoted to learning to walk around the rug.  The purpose, I assume, is to develop a sense of personal space and to respect other people's space.  They also learn how to roll up the rug and put it away.  When Andrew learned that particular skill, he went around for a week rolling all our bathmats.

Vivienne saw me taking pictures and told me she wanted to say cheese.

Braden saw me taking pictures and looked away.

There are four sturdy little tables where the kids eat and do "table work."  These tables and chairs are much nicer and newer than the wooden ones in the previous classes, but I could sit easily in the old chairs because there were no armrests.  These chairs require some gymnastics on my part.  I sit with Andrew every morning for a few minutes while he eats his breakfast, and sometimes my non-child-sized caboose gets a little stuck.

There's a rare shot of Matthew actually eating.

And here's Anna.  You can't tell but she's dressed for her first dance class later and it may be the cutest thing I've ever seen.

The library.

Some shelves with the "work."  The kids get to choose their own work, which they love.  Again, all at child-level.

I think the current theme is apples, because they're drawing pictures of apples and the teachers made an apple height chart.

Tallest is Braden.  He will be 3 in November.  Next is Andrew, who is 5 months younger.  Pulling up the end is Emerson (2 years and 8 months), who may be the scrappiest kid I know.  She's got a big brother and sister.  She could hold her own right from the beginning, dimunitive size notwithstanding.

What I LOVE, and the inspiration for this post, was this very sweet wall display called "I Am Special."  The teachers interviewed each kid and wrote what they said.

Some kids had lots to say.

Ms. Avelon said Andrew wouldn't talk to her.  He just kept smiling shyly.  Appears Andrew has a bit of a crush on Ms. Avelon.  And I'm assuming Andrew didn't volunteer that he liked red, but rather just nodded when Ms. Avelon used her powers of deduction from Andrew's outfit that day.  (The shorts were red, too.)

I'm so pleased and grateful that Andrew has such a special place to spend his days.

It started with Elmo

5:55am, aka dark o'clock.  Stillness.  All is calm.  Two are sleeping.  Or so it would seem.

Andrew: MAMA!  MAMA!  MAMAAAAAAA!

Mom: [in bed] Holy f*!? what is that?

[5 seconds later, in Andrew's room]

Mom: Andrew, are you okay?

Andrew: I wet!

Mom: You're wet?  Okay.  First tell me where you are because it's pitch black and I'm still seeing spots anyway.

Andrew: I wet!

Mom: I've located you.  All is well now.

Andrew: I wet, MAMAAAAAAA!

Mom: Working on it.  Ahhhh, yes, your leg is soaking wet.  Here, let's take off your jammie pants and your pull-up.  [Done.] Andrew, you know what we should do?  Let's dry you off with your Elmo towel [which was conveniently next to us because he sleeps with it like a blanket].  Here you go.  I'll go get some dry jammie pants and a pull-up.

Andrew: [curls up and possibly falls asleep for 4 seconds]

Mom: Okay, Andrew, here's your pull-up.  Let's put it on.

Andrew: No.

Mom: What?

Andrew: No.  I dry off.

Mom: Okay, dry off.

Andrew: No.

Mom: This doesn't seem like it's going to end well.

Andrew: No.

Mom: Exactly.

Andrew: No.

Mom: Andrew, let's put on your pull-up or Mom's going back to bed and you'll have to sleep naked.

Andrew: [Silence]

Mom: Andrew, I'm going to count to three, and if you don't put your pull-up on by the time I get to three, I'm leaving.

Andrew: [Silence]

Mom:  1.  2.  3.  [Pause.]  Okay, good night, Andrew.  I'll see you in the morning.

Mom: [Walks to door, which is now blocked by baby gate.]

Andrew: [Crawls furiously toward door.]

Gate: [Slams closed.]

Andrew: Nooooo!!!!!! MAMAAAA!!!

Alarm clock: Get up.  You didn't really think you could go back to sleep, did you?

*lather, rinse, repeat* or "Second verse, same as the first, but a little bit louder and a little bit worse."

The only significant difference in the next round was Andrew's demand for doggy jammie pants, my assurance that the ones he was about to put on in the mostly blackened room were doggy pants, and his (correct) insistence that they weren't.  They were, in fact, monkey jammie pants.  I told him the doggies were in the laundry.  He told me the monkeys were in the laundry.

It's [only] [already] 6:10 by this point.

A couple of minutes pass as Andrew dawdles by putting his legs in the pants slower than any human has ever moved, ever.  Finally he's on his bed, smiling sweetly at me as I rub his back for a bit.

I go back to my room.  I decide to doze for a while since he'll be asleep for a while.  Twenty minutes later, as I reach the nirvana of relaxed awakeness, a dim light emerges from my left.  The light grows brighter.

"Mama.  I turned seahorse on!"

Seahorse would be the wall lamp that's plugged into an outlet controlled by a light switch.  Which he can reach. 

Mom: Andrew, are you ready to get up?

Andrew: Yeah!  I watch movie.  Mama take a shower.

Some of you may think, well, obviously he wasn't tired anymore.  You'd all be wrong.  Ninety minutes later, I delivered a cranky, clingy, half naked toddler to his classroom's bathroom to pee and get dressed while I sat in the corner and had a time-out.