Category Archives: Parenting

Everything my child ever learned she learned from Caillou (and other outside influences).

As parents and primary caregivers, there is a lot that my husband and I can take credit for when it comes to building our children’s world knowledge. We were the first to teach them important vocabulary words, like names for common household objects and body parts. We’ve sung songs and read books to them. We’ve modeled for them, and continue to model, how to be kind. We insist they use words like please and thank you. And, we use real life experiences to teach them about nature and the outside world whenever we can.

Still, there are things that come up, from time to time, that neither my husband nor I can take credit for. For example, just last week, Nora was dancing around and singing to a Frozen song in the living room. When she finished, she promptly, and rather cutely, I must admit, executed a bow and a curtsey. I chuckled out loud and asked her where she had learned to do that. I hadn’t taught her, and surely my husband had no part in it. I thought maybe she had picked it up at school since her teacher has a flair for the dramatic. Instead, Nora admitted that Candace, our babysitter, and her daughter had taught her how to bow and curtsey. Later, she added, “Then I saw it on Caillou and I practiced again.”

As far as I can tell Caillou is a cartoon about a bald four-year-old boy with an annoying voice, and his little sister, Rosie. Why is he bald? I don’t know. The subjects of the cartoon seem harmless and worthy enough. I really wouldn’t know, as I’ve never seen an episode from start to finish. This is a program Nora mostly watches when I am working. It is astounding, though, the number of references she has made to the show in terms of how she is constructing and representing her world knowledge.

Another example: A few days ago Nora was drawing free-style on a piece of blank paper. I was only half-watching her at first. I noticed that she had taken a break from her normal, go-to picture, of a family of five, in ascending height order, with the littlest being a baby inside his mama’s belly. At one point, I looked over at her very colorful design and asked, with genuine curiosity, “What are you drawing, honey?”

“A rocket ship,” she replied. “Here are the wings,” she pointed out, “and this is the top.”

Again, I assumed she’d learned about this from school or a book she’d read recently. Or maybe Liam had drawn one with her before. I was so pleased with her creativity, I told her she should hang the drawing on the wall. She did, and just this morning, it seems, Liam noticed it for the first time.

“Did you see Nora’s rocket ship?” he asked me proudly.

“I did,” I told him. “Did you draw one like it with her before?”

“No,” he admitted.

When we asked Nora how or where she learned to draw it, she said, “I just knew how.” Of course, she did. She’s brilliant.

When we pressed her further, she admitted she saw one on Caillou. Of course, we should have guessed. Caillou has taught her a great deal. But so have Candace, and my parents, and her teachers and classmates, to name just a few individuals with whom she has close relationships.

We hear new songs weekly, with hilarious lyrics and accompanying motions we’ve never heard or seen before.

We are asked things like, “Mommy. Have you ever had Cinnamon Toast Crunch before when you were little? Isn’t it so good?” (It can be assumed that almost all junk-food references can be attributed to Grandma’s house).

And then she’ll out of the blue tell me that there is a picture of Martin Luther King in her sticker book. I know she learned about him briefly in school. When I go to look, assuming she’ll just see some kind of picture of a man of color, I see instead that it is simply an old white man with a crown—a king, indeed, but not Martin Luther King. It is so much fun being both a teacher and role model for the girls, but also witnessing how they’re learning from each other and those around them.

I’ve always loved the saying: It takes a village to raise a child. It tickles me to discover how other individuals, and yes—cartoon characters too—are influencing our children and their education in positive ways. Thankfully, at this age, most of the influences are positive ones. I know we will have to deal with peers and other forms of more questionable media at some point as they get older. But for now, we’ll take all the help we can get when it comes to broadening our girls’ horizons and view of the world.

Perfecting her bow.

The Caillou inspired rocket ship.

Who wants to take a bath tonight? Not me!

The girls have been hating on bath time recently. I’m not sure why. Once we actually get them in the tub they can happily play for some time. It’s just the getting them there in the first place that proves difficult.

Tonight, as I was finishing my own treasured bath, I overheard the following conversation from my husband and the girls, who had been coloring at the dining room table.

Husband: (trying to sound super excited about his next offer) Who’s ready to take a bath?

Oldest: (not moved) Not me!!!

Youngest: (copying) No me!!!

Husband: (persuasively) It’ll just be a quick one. You can dunk in and get all the paint off your face and that’s it. Then we can come back and color.

Oldest: (resolutely) No thanks, daddy.

Youngest: No me bubby! (not me tubby)

Husband: Who wants to get in the bath if I give you an M&M?

Oldest: (hopping out of chair to quickly undress) Me!

Youngest: Meeee!!!! (running to mom with arms up in the air to undress)

Husband: (turning to wife) Sometimes I just don’t feel like arguing.

I’m not here to judge. So we bribe our children with candy from time to time to get them to do what we want. After the day I’ve had, I could care less about tooth decay and before-bed sugar bursts. The girls are now enjoying a tea party in the tub, drinking dirty bath water and all. And I’m totally fine with that. Let’s call it a night, already.

Birthing play toys, nursing baby dolls, and neti-potting. All in a day’s work (play).

You’ve likely heard the phrase: art imitates life. How about: toddler and preschooler imitate life?

No? Surely those of you living and/or familiar with small children, can recognize their capacity to be inspired by both the mundane and significant details of the lives of those individuals within their intimate inner circle. And, their subsequent aptitude for acting out, in all their make-believe glory, those details, rituals, and behaviors.

Over the past three days, my oldest daughter has “given birth” to three baby dolls, two stuffed dogs, and one plush, half baby, half mermaid. Here is a brief synopsis of the process:

She goes into her bedroom for privacy, proceeds to stuff the play-fetus-of-the-moment down the front of her shirt/sweater/footie pajamas, emerges to show us all the spectacle that is growing inside of her, and then makes a big show of all the excitement and expectation surrounding the upcoming birthing event. Then, she retreats back to the bedroom for what I imagine is the world’s most pain-free labor, and re-emerges with the play-child wrapped in a blanket or covered in a crib, only to unveil him or her to the whole room of waiting-with-bated-breath-family-members—me, Franny and Liam. We go through the rituals of greeting and holding the baby-dog-doll-merchild, only to do it all again many hours later.

The youngest has only birthed one baby doll so far; she prefers to push her babies around in the stroller with a tote bag slung over her shoulder, stopping occasionally to lift the baby from her seat and “nurse” the baby mid-stride.

To top off the latest string of imitation events, just last night, my husband caught the oldest child attempting to neti-pot—is that even a verb?—with a play tea-cup, in the bath (I’ve been using one to lessen my cold symptoms this week). I thought this last action could potentially end up as a near-drowning event, but she seemed to handle the forced water to the nose like a pro; there was very little sputtering and coughing.

I find it so amusing, satisfying, and flattering to see my beloved little people imitating one of their favorite grown-ups—me.

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Adventures in neti-potting. Note the “lips” tattoo that has resided on her chest for the past two weeks. Liam has declared it gone by tonight’s bath.

You know you’re doing a good job raising healthy kids when…

…when your oldest child, who does not frequently eat foods that are highly processed or very sugary, pukes after a morning of back-to-back-to-back special treats.

This past Sunday, Liam surprised the girls with some chocolate milk he had brought home from work. The girls both chugged a small glass at breakfast at speeds which would have impressed my college beer drinking friends.

An hour later, during church, Nora snacked on some trail mix I’d made the day before for her younger sister, which had gone uneaten. In it were nuts, dried fruit, and chocolate chips.

After church, we went out for brunch, where the gluttony continued. Nora’s choice for the feast: Belgian waffles smothered in Nutella and topped with bananas. Looking back now, the chocolate was spread on rather thickly.

Of course, I did my best to eat half of the serving to save her from sure overdose. And also because I may have encouraged her to order them in the first place, so I could sample them, and save myself from the embarrassment of having to order two meals for myself (I am eating for two, right?).

Anyhoo, Liam and I were cracking up laughing while watching Nora eat the waffles. Her mouth was stuffed full, and her chewing seemed slow and laborious due to the stickiness of all the chocolate. It’s a wonder she didn’t fall ill right there at the table.

When we got home, after her younger sister had gone down for a nap, Nora helped me to line the baby’s new dresser with contact paper. She followed me into the bedroom at one point and made a random comment about how it had been awhile since she’d last spit-up (she’s only ever thrown up two times before in a span of a few of days, earlier this fall). “Uh-huh,” I acknowledged, wondering why she had decided to bring this up in the first place.

Later, I overheard her telling my husband that maybe it was the smell of the new dresser that made her feel like she was going to spit up. What was it with the spit-up comments?

And still later, while we were coloring together at the table, Nora remarked, with slightly more concern in her voice, that she felt like she needed to spit-up. OK, I thought. She’s for real. She must not be feeling well.

We went to the bathroom where she hovered over the toilet for a minute or so, seeming not sure of what she intended to do. I asked her if she just needed to go potty to make her stomach feel better.

“No,” she said firmly, “it’s not in my belly, it’s already up to here” (indicating her upper chest). I chuckled. I thought this was a pretty accurate description of where and how one feels the about-to-throw-up sensation. She didn’t get sick, but instead went to lie down on the couch with Liam.

I also chose this time to lie down in our bed and get some much needed rest. I woke up forty-five minutes later to sounds of husband and child in the bathroom, post-puke session. I guess Nora had gotten sick all over her dress and the afghan and part of the couch—a chocolate explosion, according to Liam, who would go on to swear he smelled chocolate barf everywhere, all the rest of the evening. So glad it hadn’t been me.

Nora felt better almost immediately, never got a fever, resumed playing normally, and never threw up again that day or thereafter. So, I’m guessing it was the surplus of chocolate.

Parents of the year, here at our house. Guess we’ll go back to limiting weekend treats to just one at a time. And, probably going to pass on the Nutella-covered waffles at brunch in the near future. Pancakes and maple syrup are probably a safer bet.

Frozen…finally!

Like most girls her age and slightly older, our eldest daughter has succumbed, over the past year, to Disney’s Frozen craze. She’ll gather her hair to the side and ask me if I think she looks like Elsa, one of the main characters in the film. When playing dress-up, she’ll look in the mirror and say that her dresses look like Elsa dresses. She’ll point out promotional posters hanging in store windows and other commercial products on shelves, like stuffed Frozen dolls, pajamas, or sippy cups, and shout, “Look! It’s Anna! There’s Elsa! Oohh…Olaf!” And, she knows many of the words to the main theme song, “Let it Go.”

However, unlike most girls involved in the Frozen craze, our daughter hadn’t actually seen the film—at least, not until this past weekend. All the background knowledge she had gained about the movie had come from interactions with other kids who had seen the film, or shared books with her, including characters and the basic storyline. The song I had played for her a handful of times on YouTube, so she had been exposed to some of the video. Still, I found it hilarious she would reference so much a movie she had never seen.

We probably watch significantly less TV in our house than the average family. Mostly, this is intentional, an effort to focus the kids’ time and energy into being creative and imaginative, learning to entertain themselves and spend significant time engaged in tasks around the house. Since we delayed TV for our oldest until she was two, and thereafter didn’t watch too much of it, we found she had a little attention span when we later decided to introduce her to movies. She just wasn’t that interested. I remember the first time we showed her one of the Madeline movies—a favorite book of hers. She sat engaged for the first ten minutes or so, and then got up off the couch to start playing with one of her puzzles. Liam and I just l looked at each other and laughed. We shut off the movie and let her play. Fine by me, I thought.

Now, however, as she’s gotten a bit older and has been exposed to more TV shows, she’s able to sit for longer and enjoy some extended digital entertainment. We’ve had fun introducing her to the musicals Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Mary Poppins. Her favorite song from the latter movie is “Sister Suffragette,” a title I had to look up, as it’s never been my go-to tune, preferring instead “A Spoonful of Sugar” or “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” or even “Let’s Go Fly a Kite.” But “Sister Suffragette?” Seriously? Liam also recently watched part of Annie with her too, about a month ago, but suggested afterwards it might be a little too “grown-up” for her. I think he’d forgotten about the racy Mrs. Hannigan. Ha!

So, thanks to a family friend, we were able to finally borrow the Frozen movie this weekend. Nora saw it twice, both times in one sitting, a record for her. And now she is like a girl obsessed. She spent all day play-acting scenes with her neighborhood bestie. And she’s been bombarding me with quotes from the movie since I’ve come home.

“Mom, remember when she says, ‘Queen Elsa, from Arendelle?'”

“Hey mom. I can make my voice sound just like them. Listen. ‘Go away, Anna.’ ‘OK, bye.'” She must have repeated just these two lines at least twenty times out loud to herself and whoever cared to listen while she was working on a puzzle in the living room this evening.

I asked her what part of the movie those last lines were from. “Is that when Elsa makes the ice castle and runs away from Anna?”

“Ugh. No,” she replied, sounding totally frustrated and disgusted with me and my ignorance, like I imagine a teenager would—could she really be just almost four?—“It’s from the beginning of the movie, when they were little girls.”

Oh, well, excuuuuuse me.

Even the littlest has got the Frozen fever. We were walking down the aisle at church Sunday, after receiving communion, when the organ started up and the choir began singing a hymn. Frances looked up toward the choir and belted out, “Let Doooooh!” (her version of “Let it Go” wherein she repeats, over and over and over again, Let Dooooh, let dooooooh. Thankfully we were able to shush her before she could embarrass us further.

I think maybe we’d better soon return the movie before we have a crazed fan in our house. Actually, it might be too late for that.