Connie and Charles

In other news from the Birdie language front, we can report that she likes to refer to her Grandma Connie and Grandpa Charles as simply Connie and Charles.  We can't say why.  Periodically, Birdie may ask after one or both of them, as she did this evening when Julie arrived home and the first thing that Birdie said to her was, "Connie and Charles going to come?"  By which Birdie meant would they be coming over.  This would seem like a non-sequitur if you hadn't been at the Raleigh House family dinner table last night, at which the conversation turned to Clara's birthday, at which we said the Grandparents Trump would be in attendance.  Clara then said, "I going to invite Daphne."  Clearly, this fete is shaping up to be the event of 2013.  It's important that we get this guest list tacked down early, like yesterday.  We've only got three and a half more months to plan.

As a sidebar, as a part of that dinnertime conversation, Joe inquired what Clara might like on her cake.  The options he outlined were not limited to, but did include the following:
A whale
A crab
A kangaroo
A bird
A blanket
A person wrapped in a blanket
A crown
Clara said that she wanted a baby on her cake. Joe thought that was a-o-kay, and further counseled the Bird that her cake would have her name on it, and she would eat the piece with her name on it since it was her cake.

So, Connie and Charles, you can start looking forward to a cake with a baby and Clara's name on it.  Hopefully you weren't counting on the piece with Clara on it.  Maybe you can have an ear?!

Of Cookies and Otters

While Joe keeps busy with bags, Clara keeps busy with magnets--those that are flat and flush with the refrigerator and that she can reach, anyway.  She calls them cookies, and doles them out to those who would like one.  She has rather a number of longer sentences, seemingly all of a sudden, so one can have an actual conversation with her, albeit simple and brief.  "You want a cookie?" or "You want to have a picnic?" are two not uncommon beginning to such conversations.  The cookies are usually "chocolate."  It's not entirely clear if Clara knows chocolate to be its own category of cookie, or if she just hasn't learned chocolate chip as another category and is just shortening it up.

In this clip, you can see her managing the Raleigh House cookie supply in a conversation with Joe, and a bit of the bambini's respective modus operandi.  You will also see another of Joe's crazes in action: pretending to be an otter.  (Special guest appearance by Berenice 53 seconds in.)

Though She Be But Little. . .

Our Birdie, Brigade.  She's some fierce.  She will tell you how it is.  Ms. Julie, the Learning Adventures teacher (the teacher who teaches the additional classes for which you can sign your child, like Joe's Vowels and Blending class) who fills in various rooms at pick-up time, was in Clara's pick-up room on Friday when Julie arrived.  Ms. Julie told Julie that she had called Clara "my Clara."  Clara apparently fixed Ms. Julie with a steady gaze and said, "I Mommy's Clara."

Birds, July 2012

A Boy At Work

If he's not keeping the manufacturer of Ziplock products in business, Joe can also often be found keeping himself busy with the printer and its paper and attendant office supplies, especially the stapler.  This past Saturday, Julie was out for a bit during quiet time.  When she returned home, Joe informed her--upon questioning--that Ted was upstairs, on the bed, asleep.  Evidence of Joe's meandering was already absolutely everywhere so Julie decided it was all a lost cause and lay down on the couch to read.  Eventually, she fell asleep for a bit, too.

Before she did, Joe approached her with a box of perhaps a dozen cookies, each about the size of a petit four, that the Grandparents Trump had brought with them for Christmas.  Joe told Julie, sotto voice, that he had something for her.  He allowed that she could have one.  Clara was to have one when she awoke.  Joe had had one, and Ted.  No doubt, Fans, you have noticed the one-to-a-customer-pattern.

By the time Ted, Julie, and Birdie were also all awake later that afternoon, Joe had cut a wide path of play through most corners of the house, including the office area upstairs.  Joe has learned to use the printer to make copies and Fans, what could be more fun, when you are four, than making copies?  Perhaps only stapling handfuls of blank sheets of paper together to make instruction books for all of your new toys.  (Naturally.)

He had also eaten all of the cookies, save one, which was for Clara.

Of Puzzles and the Latest (Toy?) Craze

We have many blessings here at Raleigh House, Fans, including an abundance of toys, especially in the wake of Christmas.  A survey of the play things revealed that we have, for example, no fewer than 22 puzzles (with two sets of four puzzles each being counted as one, mind you).  Not included in this count are the chunky shape puzzles that serve as an introduction to the category.  If we included those, the count would rise to 31.   Now, Fans, we love a puzzle (clearly), but 22, let alone 31, really does seem a bit excessive.  So Sunday morning found us considering the first 22 mentioned here and making some decisions about which puzzles we might donate to other puzzle-loving boys and girls who might not have anything approaching such an abundance of puzzles.  The bambini were game, but as you might expect, when we got down to brass tacks, it was rather like the Allies carving up Europe in the wake of WWI.  (We can only hope that we have not sown the seeds of another conflict on the scale of WWII.)  Naturally, all newly acquired puzzles were kept, as well as the solar system puzzle that is actually missing a piece.  We also kept some old favorites.  Mercifully, we have jettisoned the Thomas puzzle whose box gave no visual to assist the would-be puzzle master, and whose pieces did not fit snugly together.  (It goes to torment another family.)  We are down to a more respectable 12 puzzles.

The irony in all of this, Fans, to our way of thinking anyway, is that at the moment, Joe's favorite toy is a Ziplock bag.  (If he cannot lay hands on a Ziplock bag, an old, plastic Target bag will do.)  He likes to cram, say, all of his Star Wars figures into a Ziplock bag, or all of his Cars cars.  All of the grocery items might go into a Target bag, or all of the animals that happen to be on his bed at that moment.  It's tight quarters in these bags, Fans, especially the Ziplocks, with things crammed in cheek by jowl.  (Han Solo looks very uncomfortable.  It's a safe bet that he, too, cannot wait until the Ziplock bag craze is over.  The Ziplock bag cannot do the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.)