Astronomy Lesson Part Two: Student becomes the Teacher

Following my miserable attempt at explaining (away) day and night, I have pledged to be more precise in my answers to the flood of three-year-old "whys." Even ventured a little science lesson on the way to school this morning. After several days of overcast, fall weather, the sun was shining brightly this morning.

I mentioned to Bryn that the sun is really a big, big star. (smiling to myself that I had gotten it right this time, and that I would little by little add to what she knew about the solar system--and correctly from here on out.) I think her first response was "Oh." But about a mile later, she added.

"Mommy, the sun is a biiiiig, biiiiiggg CIRCLE, not a STAR."

Honestly, how can you argue with that?

Still 2, but counting down

It struck me that today is nearly a trifecta of 2-ness. October 2 and Bryn is two...at least for another week.

I was looking through some pictures last night, so thought I'd pull some quickly to capture her 2nd year.

At her 2nd Birthday party...
(October)

Christmas morning....

At the Wildflower Center...

(April)

At the beach for the first time...

(July)

And kickin' it with all her fairy friends. (August)

She's grown so much in the past year. The "terrible twos" weren't at all terrible. We've enjoyed watching her grown, learn, and develop into a precious, thoughtful, determined, smart, beautiful little girl.

Mini-Me

As Bryn nears three years old, I'm constantly taken with how many of my words and idiosyncrasies are telegraphed back to me like SONAR or something. I hear plenty of Beau in Bryn's words, too, particularly when she's pretending to be on the phone.

Yesterday, Bryn and I went to the grocery store while Beau was out working cattle. She is an AWESOME helper when properly rested. Cart selection is a big deal at our grocery store. There are carts that have working radios (at $1 per visit--only used once, but still a temptation), regular carts, little carts that Bryn can push but that don't hold very much, and the find-of-all-finds the cart built to look like a race car. The race car carts are such commodities that they have their own covered parking out in the parking lot--strategically placed by the "Customers with Children" parking. The wise people at HEB have it ALL figured out.

We apparently were due some good fortune because there was a red race car cart with our name all over it--totally out of place in the normal "cart corral" right by my normal parking space. So Bryn carefully buckled into her seat and commenced to "drive" all through the grocery store.

I was searching for a package of ground beef with a tolerable amount of fat mixed in (I'm really a 90% lean kind of gal regardless of application), when I hear Bryn (leaning over the edge of her "car") saying, "I want a cheeseburger, fries, and a milk....white milk." I must have chuckled audibly because she offered, over her shoulder, "I'm pretending. I take it home." By the time we made it to dairy, she was leaning out punching all manner of imaginary buttons. I asked what she was pretending now.

"I have to go to the bank," she said.

Is it wrong for a three-year old to know how to use an ATM?

An Astronomy Lesson

As we drove home last night from dinner (after I embarrassingly overcooked my roast, I simply couldn't ask the people I love to endure it...even though they would have if given no other options--because they love me), we were explaining to Bryn what to expect when we get home. She--like her mother (or perhaps because of her mother)--loves lists.

"First, we'll drive home. Then, we'll take a bath. And then, we'll pick out and read books. And then, we'll go night-night." Sometimes she'll correct missing steps in the list like putting on PJs or brushing teeth, but it's a pretty standard routine.

Wednesday night had a gorgeous full moon that was fairly low in the sky. Bryn asked where the sun was, and I offered the painfully inaccurate explanation "The sun has gone to sleep." As an educator, I should know better. I just created a neural pathway that will have to be corrected later on simply because it was the first thing I thought of. Nice work, Mom.

Last night, however, was cloudy, so we could not see the moon on our drive home. Bryn started asking again about the moon and sun, but this time she offered a pretty thorough description of what was probably going on in the heavens. I'm paraphrasing considerably, but it went something like this.

"Maybe the daddy and mommy moon are getting ready to wash he. Yes, the daddy moon is giving the baby moon a bath to get ready for night-night, and the mommy moon is reading books, and the sun is at school playing with her friends."

I wish I could remember all the details because it went on for a while and ended up with "Maybe that's it."

Yep, honey... maybe so.

Um, who's John?

Bryn has started using more sophisticated terms for family relationships. Now, all men don't have to be daddys. In fact, she's worked out a pretty good list of the fathers and daughters in our family, thanks to a Paul Simon song.

She has also started talking about husbands. I thought we came to understand that husbands are a smaller universe of men. That is, until a conversation in the car yesterday.

Bryn: "Who's my husband?"
Mom: "You don't have a husband, sweetie. Only grown-ups have husbands or wives."
Bryn: "I have a yittle husband."
Mom: "Oh, you do?"
Bryn [matter of factly]: "Yes. It's John."
Mom: [not knowing a John in her life right now] "Is John in your class at school?"
Bryn: "No."
Mom: "Did you meet John at church?"
Bryn: "No."
Mom: [silently trying to figure out who she might be talking about]
Bryn: "I need to find him. He's my husband."

Beau would like to find him as well.

I love you but...

My beloved daughter has just recently started prefacing many sentences with "I love you, but..." What's funny is that usually the phrase following "but" is pretty consistent with the idea of "I love you" (or at least isn't contradictory) so we have some work to do on the point of using "but." Once she said, "I love you, but I want you to sit by me." "I love you, but I want to read that book."

Last night around 2:30 she realized that I had snuck out of bed after she fell asleep (to sleep in my own bed with my own husband--not, of course, to just be mean), so she started crying and calling for me or dad to come in. Daddy, being dead to the world, wasn't up for it, so I stumbled in, scooted her over, and settled down to go back to sleep. She flipped over to announce, "I love you, but I want you to lay down with me." Yeah, I got that part.

I started wondering where she might have picked up this phrase--because we're nearing "personal catchphrase" status with it. As all children, she listens intently to what we say around and to her. We hear ourselves more often than we'd like sometimes. I'm pretty sure that I must have the habit of saying something like, "I love you, but I'm not pleased with how you are acting right now." or "I love you, but I would rather you not hang on me while we're trying to eat."

If that did come from me, I hope that she always dwells on the first part of the sentence more than whatever the second part says.

Fairy, Fairy Quite Contrary

Today began the birthday party season in our circle of friends. We were invited to a Fairy Tea Party to celebrate Sophie's 3rd. The invitation kindly offered to provide fairy wings for any "wingless fairies," but GG and Papa (having the direct line to the Mouse) hooked Bryn up with a sweet Tinkerbell outfit. She was fairy from head to toe--including a purse to top off the outfit.

It was a fun to watch her play with her fairy friends from school. They danced, played ring-around-the-rosy, were dusted with "fairy dust" (which turns out to not be all that different than body glitter), and ate cute little blocks of sugar made to look like mushrooms and tea cakes. To be fair, the mushrooms were large marshmallows with some sculpted gummie stuff on top to look like petals or something, and each of the cupcakes were tied with a little ribbon....nice touch. The raspberry punch was served in sugar rimmed teacups. The table was beautiful, but of course, the entire thing was a mine field for parents who prefer their daughter not consume refined sugar.

As a result, I suspect Beau didn't have much fun because he was being hyper vigilant about the quantity of sugar on the party table, the safety hazards that lurked in the goodie bags, and Bryn running around a wood floor in fairy flip flops.

Bryn was a lovely guest (apart from crowding the gift opening a little bit). She sang Happy Birthday with conviction, and she even thanked Sophie for inviting her to the party.

Over the coming months we get to celebrate just about one party a month. Thinking I was getting a jump on things when buying Sophie's gift, I bought presents for all of her friends with upcoming birthdays. One point for my foresight. All the gifts are variations on a theme, but I thought the theme was an awesome one so if they were all different it still works. I didn't quite consider that all these kids would be at the same parties and SEE the theme unfold, seemingly uninspired month after month. I'm going to have to scramble or else Bryn's going to end up with a mess of floor puzzles for her birthday. Maybe eBay is still working.