Places in the 'eart

We're back from Iowa. We had a great time visiting with family. And Edith did excellently through all the new experiences.

Four generations of Edith's maternal line

Helping Gigi Opal blow out her birthday candles. Edith saw that Gigi was "two eights." That's 16, right? Or 64?

Edith got her lidduh airplane after all. Though the one pictured here was a regular-sized commercial jet, the Milwuakee-Des Moines leg was on a prop plane smaller than a school bus. There was one seat on either side of the aisle--which rose up and down over the wheel hubs--for eight rows. The ninth and last row was a three-seat bench across the back of the plane. We were booked into the bench row (it turns out they are the only seats with child-sized flotation devices underneath). The poor passenger in the back corner who saw us coming quickly offered, "I can swap seats with one of you so the three of you can sit together," only to be told that in fact, we had purchased only two of the three seats and had nothing to trade her. I'm sure she was grateful when she wound up being reseated by the pilot, in order to balance the weight in the plane.

Incidentally, that whole balancing of the weight in little planes turns out to be a very approximate science. Before we boarded I was at the counter at the gate, waiting to ask what to do with the carseat, while the pilot was polling the ticket agent on how many people and bags there were. He was a bit concerned that the load was too heavy and asked whether any of the sixteen passengers was perhaps a child. The ticket agent told him that no, there were sixteen adults, and there was also a seventeenth lap infant she hadn't mentioned. Glancing at the carseat the pilot deduced that I was traveling with said infant and asked how old she was. I said that she was 20 months.

"Good," he said. "Under two equals zero pounds."

I laughed and said she was 27 pounds. He shook his head.

"Under two is zero pounds. A child over two is 81 pounds. A 'big child' is 100 pounds."

Thought those of you approaching your kids' second birthdays might want to know what was coming, so you can start planning for some heavy-duty conveyance vehicle in lieu of the umbrella stroller. On the bright side, you shouldn't need the carseat anymore.

The picture above belies Edith's true air travel experience. She was interested in looking out the window for about a minute. After that, unfettered access to "mommy's mehk" was all too thrilling, and she nursed her way across the country, attached for virtually all four hours we spent in flight each way. On the one hand I found it exhausting. On the other, we needn't have worried about how to keep a toddler content on an airplane. I think that had we been headed to Tokyo or Sydney, Edith probably would have nursed her way around the globe.

The airport was a different story, and Milwaukee is to be praised for its foresight in providing toddler "playgrounds" throughout the boarding areas. We had this one to ourselves, and it turned out to be just the thing for a two-hour layover.

When not playing on the playground we were climbing up and down "ips" (steps), above which hung a metal mobile sculpture. Edith pointed to the mobile and identified it as "ledduhs." I agreed it looked kind of like letters but said that in fact, I thought it was just art. At which she promptly put her hands over the left side of her chest and pumped in and out, saying, "Buh-bum, buh-bum." I have no idea where she learned that.

Two more entries for the How'd You Know That? files:

(1) Where Dad is "Mom"
Last week our neighbor babysat Edith for an hour. When I picked her up her lower lip was trembly, and I asked whether she had cried the whole time. My neighbor assured me that no, she had been fine until someone had mentioned "Gretchen." I smiled politely but thought it was unlikely that my name had registered with her. But a few hours later I asked idly,

"Edith, what's Mommy's name?"

"Gashen."

"Wow. And what's Daddy's name?"

"Mom."

And we thought our disguises were effective. Who knew she had us figured out the whole time?

(2)
This evening Edith came running into the kitchen saying, "Mommy! Ang-nul. Ang-nul."

"Angel?" I asked uncertainly, thinking that she was perhaps referring to the snow angels Peter makes in A Snowy Day, which we've been reading half a dozen times a day.

She shook her head and held out her thumb. "Ang-nul. Cut it." Sure enough, the kid had a hangnail.