We had an event at school this evening to celebrate the opening of the new Outdoor Learning Environment. This is the large courtyard area inside our school grounds where the children play (and learn) outside.
It’s not a playground insofar as it lacks most of the things you’d see on a typical playground. There are no swings and there aren’t play structures like you’d find in a typical playground. There is a large sand area, stepping logs, a performance platform, lots and lots of large boulders and stones and even a swail. There while environment is almost completely devoid of plastic or metal but instead incorporates natural materials into the play elements situated by ground cover and plants.
My children were told we’d be having the opening ceremony today. We (as well as their teachers) had told them the OLE or Outdoor Learning Environment was going to be available to play on now. My children wanted to remember the letters, but they didn’t have any frame of reference for why it was O, L and E.
This is easy, right? ‘Outdoor’ starts with ‘O’ but ‘outdoor’ starts with an “awh” sound. How am I going to make that connection? No matter, ‘Learning’ starts with ‘L’ but again, the first sound is ‘lerr’ and not anything like “el”. Bother. “Environment” is no better with ‘E’ and “en” not matching at all either.
The reason for my difficulty here is in how letters are taught in a Montessori school. The name for the letters doesn’t match much at all to the actual sounds the letters make when used in words. Quick, say the alphabet in your head and see how many, if any, of the names match the sounds.
My children do know their letters though. They know the entire alphabet, easy, snap. They also know letters have both sounds and names. Putting everything together with letters, sounds, words, sentences and eventually term papers takes time though, so for now we’re not so worried about technicalities. It’s far easier to know the ‘l’ sound, the ‘e’ sound and the ‘g’ sound because if you do, you can figure out the letters in the word ‘leg’.
Oh dear, it seems I’ve gotten off track from my original point. Let me sum up. I gave up trying to associate the letters O, L and E with the phrase, “Outdoor Learning Environment” and told the kids they could just pronounce it “Ole!” (as in Spanish.) They liked that option a lot.
The Big Boy Update: My son, who is typically present-focused, said on the way to Mimi and Gramps house tonight, “I don’t care if I get a present, I just want to give Mimi a big hug.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: In the car my daughter asked us, “do my brother and I eat much?” My husband told her that for their size, they ate a lot of food. She said, “I want to stay small…no, wait I want to grow up.” She’s decided to continue eating all the time and growing quickly, it would seem.
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Bubble Gum Biting
Some posts are long. This one will be short. When I was a child I chewed lots of gum. I liked bubble gum balls, stick gum, and particularly Hubba Bubba or any other large block of gum that let you blow bubbles.
I could blow bubbles for hours. I’m not sure what the constituent components of bubble gum was in the seventies and early eighties, but there was a point at which the gum would break down. Something chemically transformed—rather suddenly—after an hour or so of chewing and that was that, the gum turned into a gritty, sticky mess.
Today’s gums are a bit more technologically advanced. They don’t have the breaking down problem, but they have introduced a new problem—lip biting. Have I gone mouth clumsy? It seems every single time I chew gum of any type that I invariably bite right into my mouth—in a rather disastrous way too. There is blood there is swearing under my breath.
I don’t know what changed in me since I was a child but apparently my mouth is more clumsy than it used to be.
The Big Boy Update: My son had a rough day today. He went to his play therapist, who is magical. He didn’t want to go in a very vocal and violent way—I had to almost drag him to the car. When he left, he was so happy. On the way home he said, “I want to go back to Dhruti’s and do it all again.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was icing cookies with Nana this weekend. At one point Nana told her to do something (I don’t remember what) and I heard my daughter reply, “okay, your majesty”. It was too cute, but the real question is, where did she hear that phrase from?
I Ran Again: Five miles. This is starting to become a habit…
I could blow bubbles for hours. I’m not sure what the constituent components of bubble gum was in the seventies and early eighties, but there was a point at which the gum would break down. Something chemically transformed—rather suddenly—after an hour or so of chewing and that was that, the gum turned into a gritty, sticky mess.
Today’s gums are a bit more technologically advanced. They don’t have the breaking down problem, but they have introduced a new problem—lip biting. Have I gone mouth clumsy? It seems every single time I chew gum of any type that I invariably bite right into my mouth—in a rather disastrous way too. There is blood there is swearing under my breath.
I don’t know what changed in me since I was a child but apparently my mouth is more clumsy than it used to be.
The Big Boy Update: My son had a rough day today. He went to his play therapist, who is magical. He didn’t want to go in a very vocal and violent way—I had to almost drag him to the car. When he left, he was so happy. On the way home he said, “I want to go back to Dhruti’s and do it all again.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was icing cookies with Nana this weekend. At one point Nana told her to do something (I don’t remember what) and I heard my daughter reply, “okay, your majesty”. It was too cute, but the real question is, where did she hear that phrase from?
I Ran Again: Five miles. This is starting to become a habit…
Monday, September 5, 2016
Finding Dad
My son rarely comes downstairs in the middle of the night. My daughter comes down more frequently, for a variety of reasons. It could be the, “I wet my pants” one which involves a change of sheet and new clothes for her, or it could be the, “I’m scared because of <insert thing of the day>”.
My daughter knows just where to find us too. I’m always on my side of the bed, but dad isn’t always on his. He falls asleep commonly while watching a movie in the basement. When he wakes up varies, but when he does he comes up to bed.
My daughter seems to know if she’s woken up late night or hours later in the early morning. If it’s still night, she goes straight to the basement to find dad, bypassing me entirely.
The Big Boy Update: My son had a hard day today. I can’t quite explain it other than to say he was feeling anxious, shy, wanting to control things and wanting to be by himself to play. Some days are like this with him. His music therapy teacher told me he curled up in her guitar case, something he’s done before and seems to like to do. I’m surprised he fits in her guitar case.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter asked me this afternoon, “mom, what was your favorite part of the day?” We talked about our favorite things that day and then she said, “my down part was when I pinched Madison and said ‘I’m sorry’”.
That Running Thing I Do: I wasn’t sore from the twenty miles yesterday but after running a quick five miles this afternoon, suddenly my legs have reminded me they’re tired. I’m running again tomorrow…this marathon training doesn’t let up.
My daughter knows just where to find us too. I’m always on my side of the bed, but dad isn’t always on his. He falls asleep commonly while watching a movie in the basement. When he wakes up varies, but when he does he comes up to bed.
My daughter seems to know if she’s woken up late night or hours later in the early morning. If it’s still night, she goes straight to the basement to find dad, bypassing me entirely.
The Big Boy Update: My son had a hard day today. I can’t quite explain it other than to say he was feeling anxious, shy, wanting to control things and wanting to be by himself to play. Some days are like this with him. His music therapy teacher told me he curled up in her guitar case, something he’s done before and seems to like to do. I’m surprised he fits in her guitar case.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter asked me this afternoon, “mom, what was your favorite part of the day?” We talked about our favorite things that day and then she said, “my down part was when I pinched Madison and said ‘I’m sorry’”.
That Running Thing I Do: I wasn’t sore from the twenty miles yesterday but after running a quick five miles this afternoon, suddenly my legs have reminded me they’re tired. I’m running again tomorrow…this marathon training doesn’t let up.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
First Week of School
They were also looking forward to starting school again. We talked to them about the friends they had been missing and how they’d get to see them once school started. We got their school purple bags ready and talked about their teachers who were waiting to see them on the first day of school.
Monday and Tuesday were staggered, partial days for the children as the teachers took time with old students and new students, giving them an opportunity to meet with smaller groups of children to acclimate them to the classroom and outdoor learning environment.
Wednesday started full days for both children and they seemed to be happy to be going and back into the school routine. I say, “seemed” because we don’t get a lot of dialog from our children about what they did, who they played with, what the teachers said, what work they chose to do, etc. They seem to live in the moment and aren’t interested in recounting their day once they’ve come home.
Once home, they picked up right where they left off with neighbor children play time. The iPads were removed and school day breakfasts were given to allow them to focus on school work. They didn’t seem to mind the change and adapted overall to the new school year easily and effortlessly.
In the next few weeks we’ll see how much they’re enjoying their classes hopefully with some feedback from their teacher and maybe, if we’re lucky, from our children.
The Big Boy Update: My son has been building things with Plus Plus blocks a lot lately. They’re small (less than an inch across) and completely open-ended in what you can make with them. His constructions have become more intricate and complex as well as recognizable. He will sit for long periods making all sorts of things with them. He’s always happily calm when he’s working with the Plus Plus.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter says things suddenly sometimes. Today she came into our room and said, “oh my God, I forgot to do my homework!” I told her, “oh my God” was an adult phrase, but she could say, “oh my gosh.” Then I asked her where she heard the phrase, because she’s never had homework at her school. She didn’t know, she said.
What I Did To Burn Calories Today: We ran twenty miles today in training for the New York Marathon in November.
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Was My Childhood Happy?
Do we have happy childhoods? This is something that’s come up multiple times recently that I suppose surprised me. “Of course my childhood was happy”. was my initial reaction to the question. But upon further discussion, I’ve re-evaluated my stance on the default, obligatory response. To jump to the end, as I know my parents read this blog, I do firmly believe I had a happy childhood. I also know that’s not everyone’s experience.
The first time this came up was in conversations with my children’s music therapist. She commented how people remember their childhoods as a happy time, but was it really happy, or was it more carefree? She remembers times of sadness and angst. Children don’t always get what they want (frequently). Teasing and even bullying is common among children and disappointment is frequent. She contends adults think of their childhood years as lost good times as opposed to a collection of tumultuous emotions they really are.
Did I have every toy I ever wanted? No, my parents were teachers and while I was never lacking for any need I had, I wasn’t lavished with toys, games and extravagant vacations. Was I teased? Certainly—I was never in, “the popular crowd” and while I was okay with the person I was, there still is the need to be accepted by your peers and the hurt feelings when you find out you’re abnormal in the eyes of your classmates simply because you didn’t conform to their notion of normal. Was I bullied? I wasn’t. I never was the victim of a sustained attack from multiple people, something for which I am grateful.
I was one of the nerdy, weird people in school and even though I was on the cheerleading squad, it was because of skill, not popularity. I wasn’t seen as “cool” by my fellow cheerleaders, but I wasn’t an outcast either. In college I was comfortable enough with who I was to not be bothered as much by what people thought of me. I had found my way and a group of friends that matched my interests.
I recently had a conversation with one of my friends and discovered she had a much more difficult childhood than I did. Upon hearing what happened to her in high school and college my response was one of outrage and an exclamation of, “you were being bullied, that’s terrible!” Did she have a happy childhood? I don’t know, I didn’t have a chance to ask, but it seems her time as a youth and adolescent was much more difficult for her and contains more sad memories than happy memories.
I know there is cruelty in the world, children display it all the time. Young children tell people right to their face exactly what they think about them. At first they do it out of truthfulness as in, “I don’t want to play with you because you’re no fun.” When they’re older they do it to feel powerful or because they don’t feel good about themselves, “you’re stupid, you’ll never go to college.” When we get older, we learn to keep our thoughts to ourselves and more often than not just talk about people behind their backs. But as a child—nerve ends all over—it always hurts when someone is verbally or physically mean to you.
I hope our children will happy childhoods and as they mature we raise them to respect others so they don’t impact other’s happiness
The Big Boy Update: My son came upstairs today with a small, red plastic box that was his father’s when he was a boy. He said he wanted to show me a magic trick. See, he said, there is no coin in the box. Then he shut the box he’d been jostling around, clearly giving away the secret compartment, opened it and showed me the now present coin. He showed his sister, who was duly amazed, even though I don’t think she saw it. I reminded my son Gramps was a magician and if he wanted to learn more magic tricks, he should ask him the next time Gramps was in town.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: While we were on the playground today my daughter asked me, “Mom, what was your first word?” I told her I didn’t know, but I could call Mimi and ask. I got my mother on the phone and found out, “dada” was the first word I said. My daughter told me that wasn’t a word. I explained it meant “daddy” but she still insisted that it wasn’t a valid word. I asked Mimi if she knew the second word I said because apparently my first word didn’t count’
The first time this came up was in conversations with my children’s music therapist. She commented how people remember their childhoods as a happy time, but was it really happy, or was it more carefree? She remembers times of sadness and angst. Children don’t always get what they want (frequently). Teasing and even bullying is common among children and disappointment is frequent. She contends adults think of their childhood years as lost good times as opposed to a collection of tumultuous emotions they really are.
Did I have every toy I ever wanted? No, my parents were teachers and while I was never lacking for any need I had, I wasn’t lavished with toys, games and extravagant vacations. Was I teased? Certainly—I was never in, “the popular crowd” and while I was okay with the person I was, there still is the need to be accepted by your peers and the hurt feelings when you find out you’re abnormal in the eyes of your classmates simply because you didn’t conform to their notion of normal. Was I bullied? I wasn’t. I never was the victim of a sustained attack from multiple people, something for which I am grateful.
I was one of the nerdy, weird people in school and even though I was on the cheerleading squad, it was because of skill, not popularity. I wasn’t seen as “cool” by my fellow cheerleaders, but I wasn’t an outcast either. In college I was comfortable enough with who I was to not be bothered as much by what people thought of me. I had found my way and a group of friends that matched my interests.
I recently had a conversation with one of my friends and discovered she had a much more difficult childhood than I did. Upon hearing what happened to her in high school and college my response was one of outrage and an exclamation of, “you were being bullied, that’s terrible!” Did she have a happy childhood? I don’t know, I didn’t have a chance to ask, but it seems her time as a youth and adolescent was much more difficult for her and contains more sad memories than happy memories.
I know there is cruelty in the world, children display it all the time. Young children tell people right to their face exactly what they think about them. At first they do it out of truthfulness as in, “I don’t want to play with you because you’re no fun.” When they’re older they do it to feel powerful or because they don’t feel good about themselves, “you’re stupid, you’ll never go to college.” When we get older, we learn to keep our thoughts to ourselves and more often than not just talk about people behind their backs. But as a child—nerve ends all over—it always hurts when someone is verbally or physically mean to you.
I hope our children will happy childhoods and as they mature we raise them to respect others so they don’t impact other’s happiness
The Big Boy Update: My son came upstairs today with a small, red plastic box that was his father’s when he was a boy. He said he wanted to show me a magic trick. See, he said, there is no coin in the box. Then he shut the box he’d been jostling around, clearly giving away the secret compartment, opened it and showed me the now present coin. He showed his sister, who was duly amazed, even though I don’t think she saw it. I reminded my son Gramps was a magician and if he wanted to learn more magic tricks, he should ask him the next time Gramps was in town.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: While we were on the playground today my daughter asked me, “Mom, what was your first word?” I told her I didn’t know, but I could call Mimi and ask. I got my mother on the phone and found out, “dada” was the first word I said. My daughter told me that wasn’t a word. I explained it meant “daddy” but she still insisted that it wasn’t a valid word. I asked Mimi if she knew the second word I said because apparently my first word didn’t count’
Friday, September 2, 2016
The Side That Isn’t There
My daughter has been overreacting to situations lately. My husband and I have been trying to figure out how to best handle a situation in which, say my son pushes by his sister to get to the kitchen first. In these types of situations my daughter will cry like she’s wounded or mortally offended. Her reaction doesn’t seem to match the level of insult or injury she received.
I talked to Dhruti, Reese’s play therapist, about what we’d been observing and she gave me some great insight and advice on how we can help. The first thing she told me was that while we think my daughter is overreacting, our perception of the magnitude of the event isn’t the same as hers.
Let’s do a test first: take your right hand and cover up your right eye completely. Then squint your left eye so you can barely see out the eye. What you’re seeing right now is probably significant more visual information that she can see. Now that you’re limited in your vision, invite few boisterous children over and run around your house with them; see if you bump into anyone or anything without even knowing it or they were there.
That’s what’s happening to my daughter. She has zero peripheral vision on her right side and the rest of her vision is sketchy. Her right side is a complete blind spot. So when she gets bumped by her brother or runs into the tricycle she didn’t realized had been moved, her space has been intruded. Alarms go off in her head. She wasn’t prepared. She is in sensory distress from the unexpected contact. There could also be pain associated with the event. She feels threatened, violated and upset because she either didn’t know the contact was coming or she thinks she should have been able to prevent it.
All of this happening makes what seems like a non-event to us, a big deal to her. How do we handle it? Dhruti’s advice: say nothing. Be there for her and comfort her with a hug or an ice pack, but don’t talk about it in any way. She will work through it herself. Telling her to be more careful or to watch out for her brother is the wrong thing to do. It tells her she’s not capable of some things. It reminds her of her vision loss, something she is painfully aware of. Words of advice or warning are actuality interpreted as us judging her, and she doesn’t need that.
So now that we understand what’s happening in my daughter’s mind, we’ve been able to react to physical intrusion situations with her in a better way. Helping her like this over time should also extend into other areas, making her feel lest threatened when it comes to other, similar things in her live.
The Big Boy Update: We drove to my in-laws this afternoon. My son was asleep when we arrived and came into the house groggy. He knew there were toys in the basement and after eating a snack went downstairs to play with them. Grandpa came down to see my son who was met with, “I’m shy, go upstairs.” When Grandpa came down a bit later my son said, “when I’m over being shy I’ll come upstairs.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter and I were rolling out cookie dough and stamping out cookies with Nana before dinner tonight. My daughter was having what I’d call one of her “bad days” vision-wise. She wasn’t easily able to see the dough or what any of the cookie cutter shapes were. At one point, Nana was across the room looking through a bag of other cookie cutters. The bag was plastic and was making crinkling sounds. My daughter suddenly said, “I want to pick a cookie cutter from the bag.” She is smart like that, using sounds to figure out what’s going on. She couldn’t see a bag across the kitchen, but she knows what a bag sounds like and knew Nana was looking through a collection of cookie cutters.
I talked to Dhruti, Reese’s play therapist, about what we’d been observing and she gave me some great insight and advice on how we can help. The first thing she told me was that while we think my daughter is overreacting, our perception of the magnitude of the event isn’t the same as hers.
Let’s do a test first: take your right hand and cover up your right eye completely. Then squint your left eye so you can barely see out the eye. What you’re seeing right now is probably significant more visual information that she can see. Now that you’re limited in your vision, invite few boisterous children over and run around your house with them; see if you bump into anyone or anything without even knowing it or they were there.
That’s what’s happening to my daughter. She has zero peripheral vision on her right side and the rest of her vision is sketchy. Her right side is a complete blind spot. So when she gets bumped by her brother or runs into the tricycle she didn’t realized had been moved, her space has been intruded. Alarms go off in her head. She wasn’t prepared. She is in sensory distress from the unexpected contact. There could also be pain associated with the event. She feels threatened, violated and upset because she either didn’t know the contact was coming or she thinks she should have been able to prevent it.
All of this happening makes what seems like a non-event to us, a big deal to her. How do we handle it? Dhruti’s advice: say nothing. Be there for her and comfort her with a hug or an ice pack, but don’t talk about it in any way. She will work through it herself. Telling her to be more careful or to watch out for her brother is the wrong thing to do. It tells her she’s not capable of some things. It reminds her of her vision loss, something she is painfully aware of. Words of advice or warning are actuality interpreted as us judging her, and she doesn’t need that.
So now that we understand what’s happening in my daughter’s mind, we’ve been able to react to physical intrusion situations with her in a better way. Helping her like this over time should also extend into other areas, making her feel lest threatened when it comes to other, similar things in her live.
The Big Boy Update: We drove to my in-laws this afternoon. My son was asleep when we arrived and came into the house groggy. He knew there were toys in the basement and after eating a snack went downstairs to play with them. Grandpa came down to see my son who was met with, “I’m shy, go upstairs.” When Grandpa came down a bit later my son said, “when I’m over being shy I’ll come upstairs.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter and I were rolling out cookie dough and stamping out cookies with Nana before dinner tonight. My daughter was having what I’d call one of her “bad days” vision-wise. She wasn’t easily able to see the dough or what any of the cookie cutter shapes were. At one point, Nana was across the room looking through a bag of other cookie cutters. The bag was plastic and was making crinkling sounds. My daughter suddenly said, “I want to pick a cookie cutter from the bag.” She is smart like that, using sounds to figure out what’s going on. She couldn’t see a bag across the kitchen, but she knows what a bag sounds like and knew Nana was looking through a collection of cookie cutters.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Slower Than a Ladybug
My best friend and I ran five miles today. We get up in the dark, get dressed and then meet half-way between houses. Sometimes I make it to her house first and sometimes she gets to me before I get out the door. Sometimes we have technical difficulties causing one of us to be later than expected, such as a child appearing in the bedroom door right as you’re about to leave. But for the most part, we meet outside at about the same time and then start our run around the neighborhood.
I don’t think we even think about where we’re going anymore when we run. We’ve been doing this for several years now and we always go around the neighborhood in the same pattern. I think we tried running the pattern in reverse about a year ago but decided it didn’t, “feel right” and aborted the attempt, turning around and dropping back into our regular routine.
We have running sides too. I run on the right and she runs on the left. Every so often we get on the opposite sides of each other due to cars, people or other hazards. Our changed relative positions seem wrong to us and we’re usually back in formation a few seconds later.
All that regularity in our runs and yet every run is always interesting. It’s because we enjoy the time together. This always means talking. This almost without fail means laughing. And sometimes, it even means crying.
Today we were at about mile three when my friend said, “look at that, it’s a ladybug in flight. You hardly ever get to see them in flight.” I looked up and sure enough, right in front of us over our heads, was a ladybug heading somewhere. I’ve seen them fly, but usually you encounter them sitting somewhere, looking comfortable, not particularly interested in moving.
I was watching to see how it managed to fly considering it has two half-domed shell pieces of questionable aerodynamic merit. It was flying slowly, which we remarked on. Then we realized it was flying slowly, yet it was outpacing us.
We started laughing. We couldn’t stop laughing. We knew we ran slowly, but we never thought we ran slower than a ladybug.
The Big Boy Update: My son likes Legos. He likes video games. My husband got him something that combines both: Lego Dimensions. There is a video game, but there’s also a pad onto which you place lego figures. When placed on specific parts of the pad, the characters appear in the game and you can play that character and use their special skills. Of course, there is a financial catch—you need lots of different little Lego Dimensions characters to take advantage of all the features of the game. For now though, my son has no idea there are more than the included four characters. Don’t tell him otherwise if you see him.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Post-bath my daughter likes to play the, “you can’t get me” game on the bed. There are things that need to be done like pajamas and eye drops. She may not be able to see well, but she can run around on the bed, avoiding wherever you’re moving next indefinitely. She laughs every time she outsmarts you.
Juliette’s Wish: My best friend said today her daughter, Juliette, had told them she wanted to move to Canada. My friend was worried her daughter was having a hard time adjusting to the new class at school. Juliette replied, “No, Mom. I want to move to Canada if Donald Trump is our president!”
Slower Than a Ladybug: Five miles today at the breakneck speed of “Ladybug Flight”
I don’t think we even think about where we’re going anymore when we run. We’ve been doing this for several years now and we always go around the neighborhood in the same pattern. I think we tried running the pattern in reverse about a year ago but decided it didn’t, “feel right” and aborted the attempt, turning around and dropping back into our regular routine.
We have running sides too. I run on the right and she runs on the left. Every so often we get on the opposite sides of each other due to cars, people or other hazards. Our changed relative positions seem wrong to us and we’re usually back in formation a few seconds later.
All that regularity in our runs and yet every run is always interesting. It’s because we enjoy the time together. This always means talking. This almost without fail means laughing. And sometimes, it even means crying.
Today we were at about mile three when my friend said, “look at that, it’s a ladybug in flight. You hardly ever get to see them in flight.” I looked up and sure enough, right in front of us over our heads, was a ladybug heading somewhere. I’ve seen them fly, but usually you encounter them sitting somewhere, looking comfortable, not particularly interested in moving.
I was watching to see how it managed to fly considering it has two half-domed shell pieces of questionable aerodynamic merit. It was flying slowly, which we remarked on. Then we realized it was flying slowly, yet it was outpacing us.
We started laughing. We couldn’t stop laughing. We knew we ran slowly, but we never thought we ran slower than a ladybug.
The Big Boy Update: My son likes Legos. He likes video games. My husband got him something that combines both: Lego Dimensions. There is a video game, but there’s also a pad onto which you place lego figures. When placed on specific parts of the pad, the characters appear in the game and you can play that character and use their special skills. Of course, there is a financial catch—you need lots of different little Lego Dimensions characters to take advantage of all the features of the game. For now though, my son has no idea there are more than the included four characters. Don’t tell him otherwise if you see him.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Post-bath my daughter likes to play the, “you can’t get me” game on the bed. There are things that need to be done like pajamas and eye drops. She may not be able to see well, but she can run around on the bed, avoiding wherever you’re moving next indefinitely. She laughs every time she outsmarts you.
Juliette’s Wish: My best friend said today her daughter, Juliette, had told them she wanted to move to Canada. My friend was worried her daughter was having a hard time adjusting to the new class at school. Juliette replied, “No, Mom. I want to move to Canada if Donald Trump is our president!”
Slower Than a Ladybug: Five miles today at the breakneck speed of “Ladybug Flight”
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