Archive for March, 2008


March 28, 2008

Blow your horn,
say “Hoo Ray!”
Our birthday boy
turns two today!


(We’ll post pictures and videos from his party at Fedkids and his pizza and music party tomorrow as soon as we can. Hopefully that will be before his third birthday. *grin*)


Patrick’s Day

March 20, 2008

Charlie loves holidays. He points out all the decorations, and he gets especially excited when there is a greeting, such as Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday. (He loves having a chance to shout.)

At his daycare, they’ve been doing art and games for St. Patrick’s Day and for Easter. He’s done shamrock painting, eaten green pudding, and worn his only green shirt. (Short-sleeved, but with a thermal underneath. Give a mom credit!)

But he’s pretty sure that all of this green festivity has nothing to do with being Irish or knowing your saints. Instead, he’s assigned leprechauns and pots of gold to his friend Patrick.

At snack time, I commented on the green pudding. “Is that for St. Patrick’s Day?”

“Yeah! Patrick’s day!” he said, looking straight across the table at Patrick.

I suppose if your name is Patrick you can claim the day. And Charlie seemed completely content that one of his BFFs had a day all to himself, celebrated in green.

Today, we passed a tardy shamrock hanging on a neighbor’s door.

“Look, Charlie,” I said. “A shamrock.”

“Patrick’s day!”

So happy belated Patrick’s Day!

Raisin phone

March 20, 2008

Charlie likes to call everyone he knows on his various pretend cell phones. He has one with real-sounding buttons, one that plays music, and one shaped like a dog.

Yesterday, on the train, he asked for a snack. I pulled out the baggie of raisins, his usual morning-commute fare. He ate a few, then pulled out a particularly big one and . . . held it to his ear.

“Ello? Ello?”

Jesse and I laughed. “Are you calling somebody on your raisin phone?”


Holding hands, saying “Bye”

March 4, 2008

After a recent bout of severe, but short-lived, separation anxiety, Charlie has become so grown-up in his hellos and good-byes.

Every day when we walk into the daycare, he hides behind my leg and holds my hand. He won’t go into the room without me. He wants me to help him say hello to everyone and get used to being in a different place. But as soon as he’s ready, which lately means when he’s playing at the sand table, he blows me a kiss and says, “Bye, Mama.” (Translation: See ya, later, lady.)

Yesterday, when I went for snack, he patted the chair next to him, an indication for me to sit. Then he said, “Mama,” and patted my leg, telling all his friends that this was his Mama. After we ate, he wanted me to play on the slide with him and build blocks and watch him throw plastic animals around. Yet as soon as it was time to line up for gym—all the kids hold on to a rope so that they can approximate walking in a line—he grabbed his hand-hold and headed out the door.

We walked into the hallway together, me going one way and him going the other.

“Bye, Mama! Bye, Mama! Bye, Mama!” he said, blowing me big kisses.

“Bye, Charlie!” I said, blowing him big kisses back, loving that everyone in the hallway could hear him shouting how much he would miss me.

The best baby shower banner…

March 4, 2008

We had a baby shower for one of my co-workers and she had the best banner. It made me—and all the other recent moms in the room—laugh.

Across the back of the room, in big multi-colored letters, it said:


It’s still Christmas

March 4, 2008

Yesterday, Charlie saw a man with a long, white beard.

“Merry Christmas!” he said.

All through December, and January and February, he’s been saying Merry Christmas—for bright lights, for people who look like Santa Claus, or just as an excited greeting. His joy was infectious.

But this is March.

Enough is enough.

“It’s March, Charlie,” I said. “It’s not Christmas anymore. Did you think that man looked like Santa Claus?”

“Ho ho ho.”

At least he’ll be ready for next Christmas.

Land of Make-Believe

March 4, 2008

Charlie has recently begun to pretend. It started with sticks (and anything else big enough) becoming horses to ride. Then the toilet paper rolls became drums. And just last week he’s begun scripting out how we should pretend. (I wouldn’t go so far as to call these stories, or even scenarios. Not yet.)

We were on a walk home from a friend’s house when he saw a lion in a carving over the elementary school door.

“Lion, Mama. Lion.”

“I see that lion.”


“Is Charlie being a lion?”

“Yeah. Mama.”

“You want Mama to be a lion?”


“Roar!” I said, though not as loudly as Charlie.


“You want Daddy to be a lion?”


“Daddy’s not here. He’s at work. How about I pretend to be Daddy, pretending to be a lion?”


“ROAR!” This time it was long and deep.

The next day we had the same conversation, except we were bells. Bong. Bong.

I have to admit, I was excited that he is beginning to make believe. Those are fun games for me. (Much more interesting than building blocks, though that has its Zen-like merits, too.) Plus, NPR’s recent articles about the benefits of unstructured and pretend play have me looking at his conversations and imagination in a whole new way.