velvetpage: (ravenclaw)
My kiddo is smart. She just gave me a perfect explanation of how there were ten sets of ten in 100. We segued into her three times table, showing 3 on each die and counting the number of dice. Then by grouping the dice, we figured out that 12x2 is the same as 8x3. For the record, she's in grade one - basic multiplication is a grade three topic.

Then we put all the dice in my dice box into baggies in sets of 10, for her hundreds day project. She's supposed to take in a collection of 100 items. Later this week we'll write a short speech for her in French to explain her collection. It will include things like, "These twenty dice all have ten sides, while these fifty dice all have six sides. This bag of ten dice has six eight-sided dice, three four-sided dice, and one thirty-four sided die."

While we can't beat [ profile] doc_mystery's and his daughter's one hundred zombies for its sheer awesome, I think 100 dice is a pretty decent hundreds-day project.
velvetpage: (daughters)
Claire: *is thirsty* Milkmilkmilkmilk please!

Me: *hands over milk*

Claire: Milk, awesome! Thank you!

Me: Did you just say "awesome?"

Claire, Yep, awesome!

And a girls moment from just now:

Elizabeth: Mommy, I'm Bat-girl Princess and this is my spooky servant princess. *both girls face me with big smiles and cardboard-cutout masks, Elizabeth's of bat wings, Claire's of bloodshot monster eyes*



Sep. 7th, 2008 02:36 pm
velvetpage: (Default)
I put on my Celtic Woman CD (or rather, opened iTunes and played it from there.)

And my daughters danced.

Claire dances by spinning in circles, and occasionally jumping or stumbling around dizzy. She stops long enough to regain her balance, and then starts again. She dances with total abandon and no thought - emotion to motion, no steps in between. It's one of the most joyous sights I've ever had the privilege to witness.

Elizabeth is older now. She used to dance with abandon. Now she dances thoughtfully, changing her movements to match the rhythm and feel of the music. I remember the exact moment she made that switch, when she was a bit past two. I remember feeling that something had changed forever about my daughter, that she wasn't a baby anymore in that moment. Today she was dancing in a form I can only call proto-Irish - lots of legs in fast movements to match the beat, very little with her arms. She was concentrating so hard. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was flying, and she was so, so beautiful. What she lacked in abandon she made up for in enthusiasm.

More than any other single thing, watching my daughters dance brings me joy as a parent.
velvetpage: (peace)
Five years ago today, at 2:37 in the morning, a pink little girl with an inch and a half of black hair all over her head came into the world, wailing fit to wake her drugged-up mother.

She's grown into a happy, healthy, smart, friendly, beautiful little person. She changed my entire perception of myself, just by coming to us.

We love you, Elizabeth. You're the joy of our lives. Happy birthday.
velvetpage: (Default)
When Daddy and Claire went in to wake up Elizabeth this morning, she was all wrapped up in her blanket. "Crack!" went a voice, and her legs popped out. "Crack!" again, and her arms. "Crack!" one last time, and she threw off the blanket and stood up. "I'm a butterfly!" she announced.

"Are you going to fly downstairs?" Piet asked.

"No, my wings are still too wet," she answered.

Piet went off to get dressed, and I tried to get Elizabeth dressed. She stood on her bed with her arms held out to her sides. "My wings are drying, Mommy," she told me. I managed to get her to dress herself, without hurting her fragile wet wings. Then she flew downstairs - where she asked for milkweed for breakfast.

Not only does she have an active imagination, she's internalized an awful lot of details about a butterfly's life, and can use them in role. That's an excellent example of higher-order thinking, there. I'm so proud of her I could burst.
velvetpage: (ferret)
I was taking Elizabeth to her music class, and played my MP3 player in the car. One of the songs that came up was by the Arrogant Worms, a Canadian political comedy group from Alberta. The song is called "The War of 1812."

And the White House burned, burned, burned,
And we're the ones that did it,
Burned, burned, burned, as the president ran and cried.
Burned, burned, burned, and things were very historical,
And the Americans cried like a bunch of little babies wah wah wah,
In the war of 1812.

I was singing along with gusto, when I hear a little voice from the back seat.

Punch line of sorts )
velvetpage: (ferret)
Elizabeth: Mommy, why does God want us to wear pretty clothes?
velvetpage: (peekaboo)
Elizabeth knows how to tie her shoes!
velvetpage: (Default)
"Mommy, why was Barney an actor in a costume pretending to be Barney?"
velvetpage: (Default)
"How does Barney get big when he starts out so small?"

"Well, I think the kids imagine that the toy becomes big."

"But how?"

So I explained about imagination, and making a picture in her head, and pretending the picture is real. She still doesn't get it. She's been trying for a good ten minutes, and her Dorothy doll just won't appear in front of her in the full-size flesh. (I suppose that's a good thing - Judy Garland's been dead a long time.)

"Maybe the junior kindergarten lady will teach me," she said finally - and went off to play Wizard of Oz, without the witch.
velvetpage: (Default)
A while ago, I explained to Elizabeth that people gave presents to people they loved, to show that they loved them. Since then, she's gotten into the habit of taking little bags that could double as gift bags (some of them were, at one point) and filling them with miscellaneous favourite toys. She will then bring the full bag to the favoured parent with the declaration, "I have a pwesant for you!"

Our job then is to take each item out, comment on it in an excited voice, and then thank her profusely. Then we put the items back in the bag, she takes it and puts it away, and everyone is secure in their love and appreciation for each other.

It reminds me of when my little sister was about this age. She used to find things around the house that we'd lost - for example, a watch - wrap it up, and give it back to me as a present. She came in for quite a bit of teasing for it over the years, of course, but it's an important concept for a little kid - the idea that giving is a way of showing love.
velvetpage: (Default)
It just occurred to me that I haven't written much about Elizabeth lately. It's time to rectify that - while she's painting and occupied.

Long and potentially boring, unless child development is your thing. )

June 2017



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