Category Archives for Lil’ Jumper

From the Birthday and the Party

6th birthday 2576th birthday 2576th birthday 257
Actual birthday was very quiet because she had been running a fever and we kept her home from school. Party? Total opposite. Kind of a mad house with a dozen kids making masks, playing with toys, roasting marshmallows, and eating cake in a tent in the living room – but  everyone lived to tell about it and Maya declared it the best party ever.

6th birthday party 273

After: With the birthday wall decor.

Now We Are 5

M2 came down the stairs this morning and declared: “Mom, you have to measure me to see if I’m really 5.”

Maya-mountain_Oct82012

Photo by Siobhan Hanna Photography / All rights reserved

Nearly-five has already been amazing us this fall with improved attitude and independence.

Still an avid drawer and artist with a significant attention span for those activities, her artwork is detailed and story-oriented. And, oh my goodness, board games. A couple of months ago, M2 developed an interest in and attention span for board games that can often outlast her parents.

Now in PreK (in a mixed-age Montessori classroom), M2 is desperate to learn to read. She recently discovered the graphic novel and has been rapidly consuming the DC Public Library supply of them (we have to be a bit careful, because 5 is not the target demographic for many of these).

This time last year, M2 wore her Cinderella dress so much that she wore the sparkly lace layer right off it. Now, princesses have taken a back seat to spies, superheroes, and other adventurers.

Now we are 5

Surprising how many of my favorite photos from the last 12 months were captured on my phone or my little pocket camera, but captured they were – from last birthday cake to this one. (Captions with locations and comments on the photos can be found on Flickr.)

Choice Quotes From A Day with Miss M

To her playmate on the way to the swimming pool Thursday afternoon:

"Want to pretend that you are 40? Cause that's really super old!"

And on the way back home because I obviously had not understood the question the first time: 

"No, no. How did "dad's name" and "mom's name" make "child's name" be born. How did they do it?"

Luckily, my "That's a conversation for another time" response sufficed, because I'd really rather not educate someone else's 5 year old on that topic. Maya and her playmate subsequently decided that the playmate should go home and ask her parents, too.

After dinner while discussing why she can't wear her Crocs to school any more (The tread is gone and she slips in the halls) but she doesn't want to get rid of the old ones or remove her Hello Kitty decorations:

"Can't you and Dad just please decide that I can have a little sister. Everything would be so much better."

Lightly Row

Apparently, now that I’ve made yoga my job, I need a new hobby. Last week, Maya and I treked out to the suburbs in rush hour traffic (OMG, people do this daily?) and came back with these.

Violins 257

Maya has been asking to play the violin for well over a year and we’ve been putting her off. I looked into it last fall, but was overwhelmed enough with her starting full-day school, ballet, and gymnastics while I attempted to turn teaching yoga into a living.

Dress Rehearsal 2For ballet and gymnastics, parents simply sign up and then cajole drag take our child to once-a-week lessons where we sit around with other parents and/or a book/laptop for 45 minutes and bask in the glow of an excited gymnast/ballerina afterward.

Preschooler instrumental music lessons on the other hand, at least Suzuki method style, are a high-parent-commitment endeavor. Parents don’t have to play, but they do have to attend lessons, take notes, and guide daily practice. I’ve opted to join in with an instrument because I played as a child and I’m gambling that practice is less of a battle if I’m holding an instrument too, plus (as Mac pointed out), I’ve been looking for an excuse for years to pick up violin again.

I did pick it up yesterday and while my technique is certainly very rusty, I discovered that some of my decades-old Suzuki repertoire is still there as I played Lightly Row from memory. That’s a good thing because we’re spending the equivalent of a significant car repair to refurbish my grandfather’s violin (the one in the photo is a loaner), so I’m pretty much committing to two years of lessons for me no matter what Maya does.

Bounce!

Pgcounty_bounce_mosaic

If you're a DC resident with kids who hasn't made it over to a Prince George's County Sports & Learning Complex "gymnastics workshop," look up the schedule and and plan on it. At $6 per kid, adults free, it's a steal for an hour of free play on the equipment, trampolines, and foam pit.

Play can get a little wild during the workshops held in after-school hours. While there are a handful of staff on hand, they are really only there to enforce basic safety rules. Go during the day for a slightly more mellow experience with mostly younger-than-kindergarten kids.

But, if you go on a Friday night, you get to watch the competitive gymnasts practice while you play.

More silly, in black and white (playing w instagr.am)

Mosaic: 1. Bounce! (Playing with instagr.am filters), 2. Bounce! 2 (playing w instagr.am), 3. Upside-down and enhanced (playing w instagr.am), 4. Foam pit. (playing w instagr.am), 5. Like a sticky thing (playing w instagr.am), 6. Silly picture (playing w instagr.am), 7. Parallel bars (playing w instagr.am), 8. More silly (playing w instagr.am), 9. Toes (playing w instagr.am)

Black & White: More silly, in black & white (playing w instagr.am)

Conversing with the 4-Year-Old

Excerpts from conversations with my 4-year-old after picking her up from school today:

Typical stance.Maya: "Can I use my new pencil to do homework this afternoon?"

Jen: "Sure."

M: "Can you help me because I don't know what homework is?"


J: "Do you want an example of how a knock-knock joke is supposed to work?"

M: "Yes."

J: "Ok, knock, knock."

M: "Who's there?"

J: "Cars."

M: "Cars who?"

J: "Cars I love you."

M: peals of laughter, "Knock, knock."

J: "Who's there?"

M: "Cars."

J: "Cars who?"

M: "Tree!" laughs even harder.


J: Getting ready to close the rain cover on the bike trailer,"Ok, now remember that because of the rain, I won't be able to hear you while we ride home. We'll just have to talk when we get there. [15 min, max] Unless it's important, then just yell."

. . . a little later, about half-way home

M: SCREAMING FROM THE TRAILER!

J: "What?"

M: something that sounds like it could be "LOOK AT THAT CASTLE!"

J: Since there's no obvious castle, stops on the side of the road and turns around: "What did you say Maya?"

M: "LOOK THAT BUILDING OVER THERE [a church we pass about twice daily]! IT LOOKS LIKE A CASTLE! IT LOOKS JUST LIKE A CASTLE!"

J: "Yes, yes it does." (And important is relative.)


On the agenda this afternoon:

  • Look up pictures of panthers,  because we established on the way to school that they are not pink in the real world.
  • Investigate how much an ant can really carry (same inspiration).

Both very important inquiries.

Raising a vegetarian, or not.


First strawberry, approx 8 mo.
peas
Snap peas fresh from the market,
not quite 2.
Birthday cake
Rainbow birthday cake, 4 yrs.

Evidenced by more than 600 comments so far, I’ve clearly struck a nerve with my Care2 post about allowing my hitherto vegetarian child to purchase school lunch, meaning meat. I’ve only read a sampling of those comments, but, as you can imagine, they range from cheering me on for empowering Maya’s choices to condeming me for failing to provide moral guidance and being a pushover parent.

Help! My Vegetarian Child Wants to Eat MeatHelp!
My Vegetarian Child Wants to Eat Meat

Originally published on Care2

When I became a vegetarian at age 14, I was opting out of a food system I felt was cruel, corrupt, and environmentally harmful. Decades later I’m facing a dilemma that my 4-year-old wants to eat the lunches served in her school cafeteria, which means meat.

After 3 out of 5 of her packed lunches came back from school untouched last week, I was unable to get a straight answer out of my daughter on what she was eating. So, I checked in with her teacher after school. The teacher reported that Maya had been “forgetting” her lunch in her locker at lunchtime. Since the teacher could neither send someone to fetch the forgotten lunch nor allow one of her preschoolers to go hungry, she’d been procuring a cafeteria meal for my daughter. Apparently, Maya had happily consumed barbecue chicken, fish tacos, and possibly a cheese burger that week.

As we were talking, Maya took a moment out of playing with a classmate to declare “I don’t want to be a vegetarian. I want hot lunch.” to which the teacher remarked, “She’s an independent thinker, that one.” And that’s my dilemma.

Do I impose my preferences on my child or let her find her own way?

When told my parents I didn’t want to eat meat anymore, they pretty much exploded. They were not going to have it. They were not going put up with any dietary nonsense or prepare special meals. I was to eat what everyone else was eating. End of story . . . and then they calmed down and set conditions:

  • I would be responsible for cooking all my own meals and ensuring that I ate sufficient protein at every one;
  • I was to prepare written report on vegetarian nutrition and protein before I would be allowed to stop eating meat;
  • I would be expected to use my own money to purchase any special foods not available at the supermarket (This was before tofu and soy milk were commonly found in a mainstream grocery story).

I didn’t back down. In fact, my parents’ opposition probably did more to solidify my adolescent commitment to vegetarianism than deter me from making an inconvenient lifestyle choice. It took almost two decades before my husband and I decided that we should make our respective families’ lives easier by agreeing to eat fish when we visited.

Back to my daughter . . .

My husband and I never really discussed raising a vegetarian; we simply assumed it. Our vegetarianism is not a religious choice. And, for me, it’s less even of a moral choice than a political one. I opted out of a system I couldn’t support, but I never objected to consuming animals for food, not on principle anyway.

However, we never really addressed the reasons for our vegetarianism with our preschooler. Perhaps we went wrong there, but I didn’t want to expose my daughter to the horrors of factory farming and I still don’t. I’d like to shield her, even just a little longer, from the some of cruelty that humans can inflict on people and animals alike. I always expected that we would address those issues as they came up naturally (Say when we read Charlotte’s Web for the first time).

From a practical perspective, I’m not even sure I can force my daughter to bend to my will on this one. I could make lunch a royal battle, forbid Maya from eating cafeteria food, and tell the teacher to let her go hungry if she leaves her lunch in her locker. But what does she learn from that? We could teach her more about where her food comes from with the hope that she’d choose vegetarianism over hot lunch. But 4-year-olds don’t do nuanced moral arguments –  you’re either a good guy or a bad guy. If we convince her that eating meat is bad, how to we teach her that her non-vegetarian classmates are not, by extension, also bad?

Our school faculty assures us that the cafeteria food is actually quite good – locally sourced, even – and I’m not ready to force the factory farming discussion. So for the time being, we’re letting our daughter decide what she eats, at least at school. What would you do?

High Tea at the Mayflower Hotel

 
 

Back in July, on a total whim, I purchased a Groupon for tea for 2 at the Mayflower Hotel in DC. The above photos were taken during and immediately following Maya's first fancy afternoon tea.

My original intention for tea was as a birthday treat. But the end of October was so full of birthday and Halloween that fancy tea didn't make the cut. Barely a blink later, we found ourselves in January with the Groupon expiration looming and having read a few reviews of the Mayflower that tea wasn't really child friendly after all. I almost passed the Groupon on via the neighborhood listserv, but another mom convinced me to just get dressed up and go. 

Verdict: No, it's not really child-friendly, at least not for 4-year-olds. The staff was professional, but not warm. I'm guessing that I'm not the only person who purchased a Groupon explicitly to take a little girl to tea because the hostess asked to see it before taking us to our table. Our waiter kept most of his disapproval hidden as he warned me to (I forget his exact wording) to keep a close eye on Maya – implying that she would pour her tea too fast, let it overflow, and burn herself or (worse?) make a mess. Maya was, of course, oblivious to this and I knew she wasn't going to even try to pour the tea herself so we busied ourselves with enjoying our tea.

But I'm sure the staff are getting a lot of little girls in what is normally an adult restaruant now as the Groupon comes due, so we'll cut them some slack. In fact, 3 little girls came in all dressed in their finest during the 40 minutes we were there. The manager, on the other hand, seemed very happy to see when she checked to see if our tea was "just delightful," but she probably doesn't wipe up many spills.

Maya did great, really. She remembered to use her napkin instead of her sleeve (mostly) and to keep her elbows off the table. She tried several of the sandwiches and enjoyed quite a few of the desserts. I doubt you are supposed use your spoon to eat the whipped cream and lemon custard provided for scones, but that seemed a small concession.

Three is So Much Fun

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Near-verbatum conversation from this evening:

Maya – "Let's play sandwich. Let's play sandwich. You're the peanut butter and jelly and I'm the sandwich."

Jen – "Ok. How do we play sandwich."

M – "It's simple. You're the peanut butter and jelly and I'm the sandwich."

After a demonstration.

J – "Where did you learn this game?"

M – "At my yardsale. Ok, now I'm the peanut butter and jelly and you're the sandwich."

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