> A grammar game! I know someone who would love this. But I shouldn't make fun, especially since I want to buy the book it's based upon. UPDATE: I bought the book. I loved it. Go get it now!
Is it really the last day of August? Where has the summer gone?
-
We spent the weekend at my mom's place, where Emma found one of these.
I am proud of her ability to pick up and inspect any little creature that comes along. I'm proud because it's something we've tried hard to cultivate. It's much easier for Mark. He'll pick up any snake or other thing that crawls/slimes/scurries along the garden path. I'm not so brave, but I pretend to be. That's important.
So when I find one of those huge hairy centipedes I sweep it into a jar with a brave face and suggest Emma brings it to school for show and tell. I've also learned to pick up roly polies again – called a Potato bug in other circles – that's pretty much where I draw the line. At least they're dry. And they're not hairy.
I can't wait for the day she's going to ask someone to put a worm on a hook (gross) and when/if she catches a fish, then take the hook out of its mouth (double gross). Mark will have to step in. I'll just cover my eyes and pretend it's not happening.
What a wuss I am. :)
a
<friday august 27, 2004 - 9:36 a.m>
As I write this, Emma and Sarah are playing baby again. This is one of their favourite games. It's pretty simple. It consists of:
Emma dragging her little sister around – either carrying her or pulling her by the armpits with legs out behind.
Emma building a crib for Sarah out of pillows and other available materials. (A future architect?)
Sarah making what she has clearly interpreted to be "baby noises" as well as faux crying. The faux crying is self-explanatory, and kind of sounds like a weasel mating call. A distinct WEEEEHHHH with a pitch that penetrates the depths of one's brain. Other baby noises include sentences punctuated with a short "eh" sound at the end. (Like the "e" sound in "end.") "I'm hungry eh eh!" or "I need my blankie eh eh!" I have no idea where this concept of baby talk comes from.
Emma calling "Baby! Baby!" For some reason Baby doesn't have a name. It's just baby. I explained that we don't call our children "Little Girl" or "Hey Kid." But she hasn't given in to my reasoning.
Sarah directing the dialogue and the direction of the unfolding baby/mother drama. i.e. "Pretend the baby falls off the slide and the mother says, 'what happened baby?' and then give baby a big hug." Future film director? I find this so funny to listen to, especially since Sarah is younger. How is it that she became the one to describe the scenario every time?
They are able to play this game, oh, five or six hours every day. I am not exaggerating. It is transferable to any location we happen to find ourselves in – not just around the home (bathtub, bedroom, backyard) but the grocery store, the car or the library. You name the place, they've played baby.
When they're playing, Sarah calls Emma her "Little Mother," as if to distinguish her from her real life "Big Mama," which what she calls me while they're playing. Sometimes it's even "Big Huge Mama." I'm not sure whether to interpret this in terms of the large, healthy influence I have on her, or the fact that I'm 5'10" and tower over almost everyone we know.
I'm so glad they're able to play like this together, especially in such a creative way. When Sarah was born, Emma was 23 months old. We often wondered if they'd be good playmates. Other than a few issues with sharing, they've been very good this summer.
Playing baby is great, but I do sometimes have to reign in the amount of play crying that happens, especially when they're underfoot when I'm trying to get dinner ready. I shoo them away, at which point they feign deafness. I wonder how is it that if we whisper the words "ice cream" from down the block they're able to hear that as clearly if we were yelling it into a bullhorn, but can't hear me repeatedly ask them to take their game elsewhere?
Playing baby is great, but I do sometimes have to reign in the amount of play crying that happens, especially when they're underfoot when I'm trying to get dinner ready. I shoo them away, at which point they feign deafness. I wonder how is it that if we whisper the words "ice cream" from down the block they're able to hear that as clearly if we were yelling it into a bullhorn, but can't hear me repeatedly ask them to take their game elsewhere?
