Earth Day is upon us and that means, for a brief time, every johnny-come-lately information outlet from the largest media conglomerate to Genevieve's nursery school is spouting green propaganda. It's not that I disagree with much of the sentiment it's more the fact that this interest only lasts about 10 days. Genevieve, on the other hand, is fully steeped in our own household's propaganda and has the self-righteousness zealotry that only a four year-old can muster. Everything she does is the only right and sane way to do things; anything else is crap.
This week her educators spent time discussing recycling and other various green topics. Genevieve took it all in with quiet reserve until the teacher had the audacity to discuss home gardening. Her teacher told the class that it isn't necessary to throw out eggshells. They could be crushed up and put in your garden as a natural fertilizer.
The thought that someone might consider throwing away eggshells or that merely putting eggshells into your garden was the most one need do was too much for my pint-sized Michael Pollan. Much like Popeye, she'd had all-she-can-stands and she-can't-stands-no-more. With a look of condescension and dismay, that sadly I'm sure could only have been learned from me, she expounded on the proper way to deal with home food waste.
"Well, you know, that isn't what you should be doing. You should be putting all your kitchen waste into your composter; you put in eggshells, vegetable peels, banana skins." she drawled matter-of-factly. Surely every home must have a composter, right? "Then, after it is full, you've got dirt. You take this dirt and spread it into your garden. It helps the plants grow." Cut her some slack; she's only four; don't expect her to be well versed in the linguistic nuances between dirt and soil. Frankly, I'm amazed that she's picked up on the full process.
Her teacher related this story to Carrie and said, "Whatever you're teaching her at home is certainly sinking in." I'm sure what she really meant is: you've been brainwashing this kid with some crazy hippie rhetoric; I'll be glad when she stops contaminating the minds of these normal children.
Monkey see; monkey do. Sophie is certainly a good little monkey. Genevieve picks up lots of habits from us but Sophie picks up everything that Genevieve does. Her latest "trick" involves teeth brushing. For months Sophie has been brushing her teeth by herself, though not very well. She will usually move the brush around a bit or suck on it to get all the toothpaste off but woe unto the person that tries to help her. Screaming; shaking fists; possible biting; and that's just Carrie.
Lately Sophie has realized that she isn't getting the full tooth brushing experience. Genevieve gets to spit. However, Sophie doesn't quite understand that the spitting should happen in the sink or in the direction of the sink or at the very least not on her sister. Sophie will just randomly pull the tooth brush out of her mouth and start to spray. Fortunately she doesn't quite have the brushing down so its mostly raspberries but it's still pretty gross.
Sophie's language skills have taken off. She's got more words than we care to count and has already started stringing together sentences. So far the longest I've heard is four words. "Mommy, more milk please." Pretty polite for a 19 month-old.
She has also started counting. We play a lot of hide and seek. Mostly Sophie and I cover our eyes while Genevieve hides in one of the same four spots. I grew tired of this level of hide and seek but G isn't quite ready to figure out new places to hide. Sophie on the other hand never tires of this game which works out well for me. Mostly I just have to do the counting and direct Sophie as she walks around shrugging her shoulders saying "Where'd she go?"
Sophie's idea of counting used to be covering her eyes and saying "un. to. un. to. un. to." Sometimes she'll throw in a "fee" for good measure. Now she's happy to count without covering her eyes. Carrie heard her count up to six but all I've heard is "one. two. sik." I'm not sure what happened to three four and five but I'm pretty sure that seven ate nine. (Sorry, I deal with children a lot.)
Sophie has also picked up some sign language. She knows the signs for more and change. Of course she knows the words for these and while keep saying and signing until she gets what she wants. As soon as shes soiled her diaper she'll start saying "change. change. change." If you don't heed her cries it gets louder and more urgent. I can understand. I wouldn't really want that in my pants either but it still isn't fun to be woken up bright and early in the morning to a rousing chorus of the "change. change. change." song.
Here's a short video of Sophie doing animal noises from a few weeks ago. We don't just go for the standard animals around here; Carrie really likes to test her limits.
Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?
Passover began this week on Wednesday evening but on the night before Passover it is customary to make certain that the house is properly cleaned and all chametz (forbidden foods) have been cleaned out. This year we updated the tradition a little bit. Traditionally the kids will go around with a feather, a spoon and a candle in search of the last crumbs in the corner (read: things mommy has hidden for them to find). I wasn't so keen on letting Genevieve walk around with a candle so we let her use her flashlight. While I was putting the kids in their pajamas upstairs Carrie was secreting pieces of pita around the dining room. Genevieve was shocked and amazed to find so much pita on the floor. Even though Carrie blamed it on the cleaners Genevieve was unconvinced. She had her own explanation. The house was clearly magic. She proceeded to explain how magic houses just make pita appear.
The following day Carrie and G were busy making desserts for the seder. Passover desserts aren't known for being tasty but Carrie has been doing wonders in dessert research and found some truly passable desserts. It would be a lie to call them delicious. If it were served to you during the rest of the year, you would assume it was just a standard piece of cake not great but edible. On Passover, however, this is as good as it gets. They made brownies, which were more like fudgies, banana-nut cake, apple tea-cakes and chocolate nut-raisin clusters.
During the seder, a piece of matzah (afikomen) is set aside as the final dessert after which nothing shall be eaten - until the next day. When my father was explaining this, Genevieve was crestfallen. "What about all the other desserts Mommy and I made today?" she demanded. After a little explaining, she was right as rain and ready for some serious sederin'. She managed to steal the afikomen both nights but needed a little prompting and there was no subterfuge unless you count everyone else pretending to look the other way. Hey, she's young; she'll learn the fine art of afikomen-napping soon enough.
She had been practicing for the last two weeks on how to recite the four questions. Since she still can't read she has to do it by rote memorization. It isn't too much different than learning any song except that this one is in another language. She didn't really get past the first 2 1/2 questions. Perhaps she just isn't that inquisitive or maybe she is just a know-it-all. I know which my money is on.
If P.T. Barnum were to design a seder table it would probably look something like the one at our house. It is usually full of props and Passover themed tschotkes. Genevieve's addition was an Egyptian looking McDonald's Happy Meal toy. We have no clue what movie it came from but it has a copyright of 2006. Either way we told her it was Pharaoh and she was busy making him enslave the people around the table. If you think she's a harsh taskmaster when she's just Genevieve imagine her as an autocratic monarch.
When Danny and Genevieve were coming home from the circus last weekend I went to check what time their train would be arriving. I noticed that it was really quiet in the house, which could only mean one thing:
Please note that this container was almost full. The shiny spots on her pants? Vaseline. The greasy hair? Vaseline. The extra-moisturized arms, face, and shirt? Vaseline. I was unable to get a picture of the large mounds of vaseline on my dining room carpet due to the fact that my cat is dumb and was starting to lick it. Oh, and I wouldn't recommend standing on the stool Sophie is sitting on for a while. It is a little slick.
