Well that's settled

At a light, waiting to turn onto the freeway onramp:

Ian: Cah! Cah!

Me: Yes! So many cars! And look, a train!

Ian and Mira: (rapt attention to train passing)

Me: What could be better than a train?

Mira: Cat!

Infuriatingly Charming

On Tuesday morning Chris and I woke to Ian calling from his crib: "PAPA! MAMA! ADA!"

I am thrilled that Ian is starting to talk. I am also completely charmed that he was calling out to all three of us, no doubt with the hopes that SOMEONE would hear him and pick him up.

I was less excited about the fact that he was doing this at five in the morning.

After deciding to let him stay in bed for another hour, I fell asleep thinking how smart my boy is. He didn't call to Mira. No doubt he knew that she was a crib-bound as he is, and unlikely to help him.

Dialogues

Lila: You can't make that face when you are doing Spanish!

Ada: Hola bola!

** * **

Ada: Let's pretend we're princesses!

Lila: You know what? Dads are kings, moms are princes and little kids are princesses, right?

** * **
 

Ada (talking to the babies): Ian, lucky Ian! Mira, lucky Mira!

Me: Why are they lucky? They are pretty lucky to have you.

Ada: Ian is the luckiest.

Me: Why?

Ada: Because he has two sisters!

And a spicy holiday to you too!

Nora, reciting the prayer over the candles: Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam...

Ada, a few minutes later: Why were you saying jalapeno?

Nora: What?

Ada: Jalapeno. Barukh atah Adonai, jalapeno...



Someone should probably tell her that when they don't know the words, people often say "watermelon" instead.

Sympathy for the Papa

Ada: Do you want a nap?

Me: Yes.

Ada: Why?

Me: Because the babies wake up every few hours and need to eat. So Papa and I need to change their diapers and feed them.

Ada: But Papa feeds them with a bottle. That's not much work.

Chris: I have to come all the way downstairs to get the bottles!

Ada: Down here? That's some work. I feel tired for you.


We had this conversation about a month ago. Things are better than they were then with regard to the night-waking, thankfully. That notwithstanding, Chris and I still want a nap.

Ada's motto is "no rest for the preschooler"

Erasure

Ada has been asking about death.

For a while she has wanted to know when we will die. (I generally reply, "not for a very long time.") This week she asked what death feels like. Before I could say anything, Chris said he thought it might be like sleeping. This made me a little nervous, since it occurred to me that this could cause Ada to worry about going to sleep, which is not what we want right now. Luckily, she didn't seem too concerned about that. Instead she asked: "What does it feel like when you die? Does someone erase you?"

I guess that's one way to go.

She looked so happy, I didn't mention the part about being buried in the ground.

Half right

Ada came running downstairs wrapped in a blanket, yelling, "turkey cold! turkey cold! turkey cold!"

Alighting at the dining room table she declared, "I'm cold like a turkey!"

"Cold like a turkey that's really cold?" Chris asked.

"NO. Cold like a turkey when it's cold."



Well, the kid usually runs hot, but she is right about one thing. She is a turkey.

Grandparents are going like hotcakes

This is something I wrote a couple of weeks ago when I was getting more sleep and had fewer babies wanting me to hold them all the time. Thanks for all the lovely notes of congratulations. We are all well, if in various stages of crabby exhaustion. I figure that will lift in 2-3 years. 

I was cutting up Ada's pancakes while we talked about the day ahead and what we would do with Ada's grandparents.

Me: Be careful, they might still be hot.

Ada: Grandma and Bunka?

Me: No, the pancakes.

Ada: They aren't.

Me: Grandma and Bunka could be hot. They would be if they ran here.

Chris: Or if they had the heat on in their car.

Ada, clearly amused by our insanity: They don't have a car!

Me: They don't? How will they get here?

Ada: We make them in a pan!

Inquisitive

Ada, while drawing and watching basketball with Chris: "I know you don't like the ads. Why you don't like the ads? I like the ads."

and later: "I know, you can watch the game and I'll watch the ads."

* ** *

Ada's recent most-asked question is "Who are you?" She asks this at least a half-dozen times a day. Sometimes I just answer simply: "I'm mama." Other times I offer more: "I am a mama, a wife, a reader, a writer..." 

While any answer I give seems to satisfy Ada in the moment, nothing seems to quench her desire to ask again.

* ** *

While not a question, certainly inquisitive:

Driving home from picking up veggies from our CSA, Ada piped up from the back seat.

"I want to count all the books."

"All your books, or all the books in our house?"

"All the books in our whole house."

Kind of Dark

After reading a few books with me this afternoon, Ada decided she wanted to "read" some on her own. She plowed through three or four before asking me to find her another one.

"How about this one?" I asked, holding up a book.

"It's kind of dark."

"Dark? What do you mean?"

"It is dark. I want something lighter."

"Ok, how about Cars and Trucks and Things that Go?"

"Yes."

First, who knew that Ada classified books as light and dark?

 

Second, who would have guessed that Welcome Home, Big Bird would be considered dark?

The New Guy

Ada: Manu!

Chris: Manu?

Ada: He's someone at school. He's the new guy.

This post should probably have been called "Random Ada Conversation and Unrelated Photo"

Don't Notice It

Ada took a big spill the other day, scraping up her knees and chin. The moment itself freaked her out, sending her into a mood tailspin that lasted most of our breakfast with our pals.  The pancake helped cheer her up, thankfully.

Ada was upset enough in the moment that I did not try to wash off the scrapes.  I figured I would be able to clean the wounds later, when she was less worked up. I was wrong. Not only does Ada resist anyone touching her sore knees, she does not want us to LOOK at them. If I mention the existence of her scab, she tells me: "don't notice it."

Mysteries revealed

Ada and I enjoyed dinner with friends at the kid-friendly patio of a favorite local restaurant.  The patio is covered with small rocks, which are super fun for toddlers to arrange and re-arrange while their parents eat and try to ignore the funny looks of childless diners.

On the way home, Ada declared: I'm mysterious. Do you know what mysterious means?

Me: Yes.  Do you know what mysterious means?

Ada: It means that when you put rocks in your pants, you have to take them out.

When we got home and she took off her clothes before the bath, two small rocks fell out of her diaper. So much for mysterious.

I am the medium one

Ada and I were drawing lions. Reaching over to my paper, Ada adds some circles to my lion's face.  "I made cheeks for your lion," she says.

"Nice cheeks," I reply.

Drawing more, she adds, "and eyebrows."

"Oh, those are big eyebrows. Those are Bert eyebrows"

"Why?"

"Well, they are like Bert's. Bert has big eyebrows."

"Do you have big eyebrows?"

"Well, not that big. Papa has bigger eyebrows. But his face is bigger too."

"You have medium eyebrows. And a medium bottom."

That's a lot of poop talk from a kid who refuses to use the potty

Ada told herself a story that ended with "and the poo poo came out of her head."

Turning to me, she asked: Isn't that a funny story?

Me: It's not my favorite kind of story.

Ada, exasperated that I did not get the joke: But there's poo poo . . . coming out of her HEAD!

Ada, talking to herself again: That's a poo poo head story. Mama didn't like it. She likes a pee pee story. I like a poo poo story and Mama likes pee pee.

Coffee, tea, or . . . barium milk?

Ada: Here is some puta hutu banana lemonade.

Me (after deciding not to get into why puta might not be a good thing to drink): Delicious.

Ada: This is barium milk.

Me: Yum.

Ada: Coffee? But it is bad for you.

Me: What? Coffee is?

Ada: Yes, BAD for you.


Later, after feeding her rubber ducky some barium, Ada allowed as how barium tastes bad. Maybe because it was cut with bath water? 

If I were a bear

On the walk home from the farmers' market, Ada said: "If I were a bear . . . I would turn into a bench."

hopefully not like this one

Color Wars

While waiting at a traffic light:



Ada: Red means GO!

Me: Really? What does green mean?

Monkey Boy: Green means GO!

Ada: Red means Green!




Just wait 'til they hear about yellow.

Crochet tiger, hidden search terms

I was at the beach all this past week, but while I shake the sand out of my pants and sort through the laundry and Ada's piles of broken shells, I thought I'd share my google embarrassment. I'm never too busy to share my embarrassment.

I was laughing that someone found me by googling "free chroched baby blankets" (and trying to imagine a crotch in the blanket, for easy swaddling!). Then I followed the link and noticed that earlier this year I did type "croched". Even better, it was in reference to an actual, um, knit novelty item that makes croched more appropriate than crochet.

Words and Phrases

Selected Ada vocabulary

Pine Cone


Sand Castle


Punk Rock



And while we are on the subject of words, I'd like to file this under "things I never thought I'd say":

"I'm sorry Ada, you can't take Willem Dafoe home."