Tis the Season to be Nice

Christmases past have been a learning curve for all of us. It has taken 3 years and I finally think Toby has grasped the concept that there is something beyond the wrapping paper, that the guy in the big red suit is worth not being afraid of, and that the baby’s name is NOT, in fact, Jay-Zee. (Some lessons more crucial than others when visiting the Catholic in laws…)

But this year, above all others, Toby has fixated on the differentiation between Naughty and Nice and the important ROLE this plays in the receiving of Christmas gifts. It’s a clever trick to play on kids, getting them to be well behaved on the threat of being passed up on Christmas Eve, but I take no credit for it; the kid announced this notion to us out of the blue last week and we have no idea where he was taught it.

Well…not NO idea, I suppose. He does attend daycare everyday and comes home with all sort of interesting and sometimes misinterpreted tidbits. I suspect that someone, sometime over the past few weeks, CASUALLY mentioned the fact that they were all under observation for good behaviour by Mr. Claus and Toby took it very seriously to heart.

Not only is he on his VERY BEST behaviour these days, but also he is quick to comment on the naughty behaviours he observes in his peers (with a sad shake of his head).

Anthony, for example, failed to keep his hands on his own body today at lunchtime, but Toby reassured us that he “put them back on his own!” after having this pointed out to him by our loud-mouth-Christmas-reminder.

The other problem with his sudden insight into this is his very endearing and earnest concern for his little sister’s behaviour. Mia, unlikely Toby, is going through a bit of a naughty phase right now. I mean, who can blame the girl? She has JUST gained independence and we go and stick a tantalizing tree complete with colourful lights, balls and toys on strings at varying distances from her reach. She now knows enough to shake her head from side to side (WILLING herself not to touch) as she approaches the tree with outstretched arms but that's as far as we've gotten. The girl is PERSISTENT.

Her insistence NOT to learn the rule around tree touching reached a peak yesterday; I arrived home to find a giggling Mia in a heap on the grey chair with (a very frustrated) Rob holding her down in place while looking in the opposite direction.

What on EARTH are you doing? I asked him.

“I’m giving her a TIME OUT” emerged the gruff voice from he peals of 11-month-old laughter.

“OH…” I replied, “How’s THAT working for you?”

It appears Rob and I have lost our touch. We have mastered the art of 3-year-old manipulation discipline but when it comes to stubborn, excessively mobile 11 month olds we are stumped.

We are all hoping to wake up Christmas morning to find the Christmas tree still standing with lots of well deserved presents for Toby underneath it…and hopefully a little something for Mia as well. Fingers crossed!!!

Binary Speak

As Toby’s language continues to develop, so does his overall perception of adult speech. He often tries to casually throw into conversation words and phrases that we say. Things like “What the heck!” or “What in the WORLD is going ON?” come up frequently (although often not entirely appropriately)

Where he is not quite so successful is in figuring out why adults insist on S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G certain things. ESPECIALLY around Christmas time.

It took us a while to figure out what he was doing but over the past week Toby has begun to announce a random array of numbers and consonants and then ask US what he is talking about. Needless to say, very SELDOMLY does his random array of misplaced digits make ANY sense to us.

In fact, his most common combination is that of ZERO ZERO ONE ZERO ONE TWO ZERO which reminds me somewhat eerily of a computer geek speaking in binary code to his friends. For all I know my sarcastic smirks to Rob and patronizing answers to his questions could be in futile irony; knowing Toby he is probably announcing some brilliant computer programming invention and all we keep saying is, “Use more letters, Toby! That doesn’t make any sense!”

Construction Zombies

Have I mentioned to you that Mia is walking? I feel I need to clarify: way back when I posted the video of her first steps I believe I used the term. Back then it was more like “stepping tentatively”. NOW, a mere 2 weeks later, Mia is DEFINITELY walking.

In fact, (apart from defeting her brother at the nightly game of Tiger) it is her absolute favourite thing to do.

It is as if she is an elite athlete, rehearsing her sport in her sleep at night and coming back to her game refreshed and leaps and bounds ahead of herself the next morning. Every day she wakes up to cheerfully show off her newfound walking improvements; casually, as if they have been there all along but with a victorious grin that lets us know that she is QUITE proud of her new skills.

Being able to walk is quite liberating. Not only can you SEE more when you go on a walk about, but you are able to make more rational decisions and plans as to how you will spend your time. For example, Mia used to crawl around the house purposelessly, sometimes following us, sometimes following Toby, and sometimes following the dog. But now, being able to WALK, she follows the beat of her own drum.

Sometimes while we are in the kitchen doing such mundane tasks as eating dinner, cooking dinner or cleaning up from dinner, Mia will INSIST on getting down and then make her way to her bedroom and spend a good 5 minutes in there by herself, rummaging around through her stuff (that is now REACHABLE to someone on 2 feet) and then reappear with a prizewinning find in her hand.

“AHA!” the look on her face will say, “I have FOUND what I was looking for. It is a wooden NAIL!”

That’s right. My little girl once again disappoints the stereotypical part of my brain that longed for sugar and spice. The “shelf” that she can now reach contains palpable “toys” of all sorts; swim diapers, pink shoes and socks, little books, dolls, hair brushes and multicoloured foam alphabet letters. But no matter how long she spends “rummaging” she always navigates towards one particular array of toys; Toby’s wooden construction kit. And we never tire of seeing her triumphant two-toothed- grin, as she emerges from her room with a wooden nut or bolt or screw in her tight little fist.

I guess one could say it was all fun and games until she discovered the HAMMER last night. Our furniture, and Zak have yet to recover. The rest of us are still finding it endearing.

The funny part of this newfound development is in the uniquely 11-month-old hand placement. In my opinion, Mia is walking far before the point where her brain is developed enough to make rational sense of this new ability. (Hence the ridiculous choice of wooden construction toys she proudly produces for us!) But her feet are also ahead of her upper torso. Although she seems to be able to motor quite quickly with her legs, her arms, on the other hand, remain the tentative rate limiting part of her gait and she continues to walk with them straight out in front of her.

And hence the title of this enamoured post: my little construction zombie.

It’s hard to believe that a year ago, as we got our Christmas decorations out from the boxes, I didn’t even know whether she was a boy or a girl. And now here she is, blessing our lives with her exuberantly awkward walk and her intense love of her brother that has her growling with ferocious “Da’s” and choosing wooden nails over pink dolls while simultaneously shattering every preconceived thought I’d had about having a daughter of my own.

Oh, Mia, how we love you so…

Mia Barks Back

For a long time now we have enjoyed the friendly family game of "Tiger" each night after dinner.

You know the game- - the one where an adult sits on the floor with the baby and the toddler goes around the corner and comes out pretending to be a tiger, growling and snapping his teeth as he crawls towards us, scaring the beejezus out of the baby until she turns and tries as hard as possible to run away and in the process falls on her face.

It’s borderline child abuse but Toby and Mia both enjoy it SO much (until the part when she smacks her face on the ground) that it has become somewhat of a staple in our house.

As Mia’s mobility has grown so has the length and her enjoyment of game. She now turns and crawls away at top speed giggling as she goes. Most times she can even make it to the dining room table before face planting into the ground, which shows marked improvement.

Tonight, unexpectedly, the game took a DRASTIC and sudden turn.

Just as “the Tiger” was about to lay his paws on the excited Mia, she suddenly HALTED in her tracks, turned and STOOD UP, towering over the crouching Tiger and in a tentative voice said, “DA!”

Toby didn’t miss a beat and responded with a ferocious GROWL.

Mia didn’t back down. Instead, she THUMPED her fists into her sides and said a little more loudly, “DA!”

Finally, after a few more exchanges Mia’s wimpy yet determined attempt at a growl reached full volume and Toby the Tiger (out of boredom, not chivalry) accepted defeat and went to find some monster trucks to play with.

Mia, somewhat disappointed to have put an abrupt end to her favourite game settled back down onto her bum and stared longingly after her departed playmate before turning to me and very sweetly asking, “Da?”

My darling daughter has not only learned to growl, but for the first time in her 10 months of life, has stood up to (and defeated) her older brother.

You go, girl!

The Christmas Countdown

“How many sleeps until Christmas, Mommy?” Toby asked me excitedly on his way to skating last week.

“Twenty Six,” I answered back honestly.

Toby would have none of it.

“But MOMMY I already HAD lots of sleeps…. so HOW MANY sleeps until Christmas?”

“Twenty six, Toby” I re-delivered the cold hard truth “There’s nothing you can do to change it.”

“But MOMMY,” he insisted, “FOR EXAMPLE I slept LAST night. So HOW MANY sleeps until Christmas?!?!?”

I delivered the heartbreaking news to him for a THIRD time.

His little head bowed and he stared solemnly at his hands and in a voice of utter defeat, sighed, “But MOMMY…I ONLY have TEN fingers to count with!”

I suggested he count his toes.

Toby set to work at counting his toes. Initially, I was surprised that, despite his mitts, thick socks and winter boots, he was able to discern that his left foot has in fact got 5 toes on it. But I was slightly disappointed to hear that his right foot only has 4 toes.

“No, Toby, you were right before, your feet each have 5 toes on them,” I corrected.

“Uh, NO, Mommy” he replied back with such a tone of adolescence you would swear we were debating something much more sophisticated than the number of toes on his feet, “My RIGHT foot only has FOUR toes on it.”

The victory of his ability to count through the multiple layers of winter wear was working against me in this instance.

Sometimes it’s better to just MOVE ON, so I quickly summarized and redirected,

“OK, well actually it DOESN’T. Both of your feet have FIVE toes so you have TEN toes and TEN fingers which is TWENTY and if you count both eyes, ears, mouth and nose,” I said pointing to each one slowly, “ You get TWENTY SIX which is the number of sleeps until Christmas.” (Thanks heavens we hadn’t had this conversation the day before or I would have been SOL.)

There was silence from the back seat.

I turned around and was met by a grim look peeking out at me from underneath he layers of full snow attire.

(Let me just say, it is REALLY hard to take your kid seriously when they are in full Michelin-Man-winter get up.)

I gave him some room to process the complex mathematical proposal I was setting before him.

The silence and solemn glaring from the back seat continued.

Finally I asked him, “Well, Toby, what do you think?”

Breaking the frozen look of despair he sighed, “I think, Mommy that you’re right.”

As I started my victory sigh he continued his thought for me,

“Except that I STILL only have FOUR toes on my right foot.”