Potty Training, Ph.D.

It's no secret that potty training Hannah has thus far been a long and relatively unsuccessful journey. But I may have figured out why. Hannah doesn't want to simply use the potty, she wants a Ph.D. in the subject. She will now sit on the potty (every 10 minutes), but somehow still manage to only pee in her pull-up. She can hold it for an entire day if she wants, only to soak a diaper at night. She talks about using the potty, reads copious books on the subject, and is even helping to train Jacob. She has the lingo down. "Oh, my pull-up is wet because I just couldn't make it on time. It was an accident." Accident, right. She sat on the potty for 25 minutes before peeing immediately upon exiting the bathroom.

I am convinced that she is slowly learning everything she can about the potty before committing to it as a useful tool. She is gathering data, exploring the evidence, and eventually she will come to a conclusion. Favourable or not, she will at the very least be making an informed decision.

Snug in Their Beds

It's Christmas Day night, and I know the expression "snug in their beds" really belongs to Christmas Eve, but tonight it just feels so fitting. After a fun family day, and then an impromptu visit with friends, we came home for a late dinner and as a result, later bedtimes. Jacob went right to sleep and I always find the sound of his deep, even breathing so soothing over the monitor. Hannah just called me up to bring her a teddy bear, and after tucking her in again (and her teddy bear), I felt a deep sense of satisfaction. There was my little girl, all cozy under her blankets, hugging her bear, ready to drift off. And right next door, her baby brother was still sound asleep, most likely hugging his blanket tightly to his chest.

Obviously, this same scenario plays out night after night; yet for some reason tonight it gave me pause. It must be the season. I am in the mindset for "Silent Nights" and children "all snug in their beds". There really must be something magical about the holidays when something as ordinary as bedtimes seem like a blessing. That, or I put too much Baileys in my hot chocolate...

Hannah Makes a Simile

Tonight, as Hannah stepped out of the bath, she said, "Brrrr... I'm freezing. I'm like an ice cube!" Oh, the joy of figurative language. Similes today, metaphors tomorrow, and then she'll be using intentional parallel structures in her speech.

And why not? She has mastered onomatopoeia... not just the animal sounds either, she can say the word "whine" with just the right inflection and a certain irritating something that actually defines the essence of the term.

Still, her little simile gave me a little smilie :)

We Have a Cereal Offender

Jacob has a problem. He is addicted to cereal. Addicted in the kind of way that leads to withdrawal symptoms when denied the stuff. We had to move all our cereal to the top of the fridge so he couldn't have access to it. He's working on building a ladder. He can barely say "Dad", but pronounces "cereal" with astounding clarity.

His personality actually changes when he has cereal in front of him. He becomes happy, relaxed, less prone to angry outbursts. So, of course, I keep feeding his habit. He has a tray full of Shreddies in front of him right now. And looks positively blissful. But when those are gone - watch out!

On the surface, and all things considered, it might sound like a harmless little obsession. A benign craving. However, if you saw his reaction to being denied some cereal, you would be forced to reconsider. This is no ordinary infatuation. I just hope he doesn't progress to harder substances... like lifesavers.

All is Bright

Today while we were driving home in the near-dark, Hannah was oohing and aahing over all the Christmas lights. She does this regularly. Jacob, through close observation and thoughtful analysis, has figured out that the sound effects and pointing correspond to lights. So he joins in, with unabated enthusiasm. His "oohs" rival those often associated with fireworks.

As we were driving, Hannah temporarily stopped her sounds of appreciation due to the fact that no houses had lights on this particular section of road. Jacob, however, continued pointing and exclaiming with wonder. Just as I figured out what he was doing, Hannah burst out with what can only be described as a serious accusation: "Mom! Jacob thinks the street lights are Christmas lights!"

Bless his little heart. For him, the night was full of wonders. Forget plugging in the tree, all we have to do is turn on a lamp...

Reconstructing Reality

Yesterday there was a function at Scott's office that involved many fun things for kids: face painting, Santa, life-sized snowmen, Rudolph, fire trucks, etc. As soon as we arrived, Hannah saw Rudolph walking around and she went into panic mode. When Frosty appeared, her terror doubled. She wanted to be picked up and carried around, but settled instead for clinging to my leg and whimpering. She wouldn't go near Santa and wanted nothing to do with the face painters. Fine. We had some snacks, watched a bit of "Frosty" on the big screen and then got ready to leave in order to be home in time for lunch and naps.

Strangely, as soon as Hannah was safely buckled into her car seat, she "remembered" that she hadn't gone in the fire truck. And she wanted to. She also realized that we'd "forgotten" to get a star on her cheek. "Those girls" were painting pictures on cheeks and she wanted a star... how come she didn't get a star, mom?

By the time we got home, she was excitedly telling me all about Rudolph at Dad's office, like he was her favourite part of the day instead the frightening monstrosity that had reduced her to a puddle of despair.

So, in the end, through her distorted recollections, I guess she had a good time after all. (Strangely reminiscent of the time we stood in line for 30 min. to ride a pony and then she refused, but talked about her pony ride the whole way home...)