Variations on a theme

Did I say Edith was taken with Peter and the Wolf? It has become the soundtrack of our lives.

This morning I turned it on for her as usual after getting her dressed, then went back to my room to get dressed myself. A few minutes later Edith came running in.

"Duck caught buhd," she told me, trapping one of her hands in the other.

"The cat?" I asked. "He tried, but the bird flew up into the tree and escaped, right?"

Edith looked a little confused. She's still trying to make sense of the story. "Duck caught buhd," she repeated, again making the motion.

Again I suggested that the duck was in the pond, and the cat had tried to catch the bird but hadn't succeeded.

"Buhd caught duck," she tried this time.

"No," I said. "But who does catch the duck?"

Edith was silent.

"Who is going to come out of the woods and catch the duck?" When she still was unsure, I asked, "The wolf? Is the wolf going to come catch the duck?"

Again one hand trapped the other. "Woohf caught duck," she said confidently.

I nodded. "Yes."

And then, "Bismarck caught woohf."

***

February 27, 2007 -- Edith offers her first independent prayer. It was our grace at dinner last night. I began it:

"Dear God, Thank you for..."

Edith continued,

"Bismarck.
'now. [that white stuff outside]
Tomatoes.
Pastas.
Amen."

***

In addition to monitoring the food chain in czarist Russia this morning, Edith had work to do rousing her father. We had an extra wall calendar this year, featuring photos of baby animals in the wild, so I hung it near the floor in Edith's room. I thought she'd primarily enjoy the photographs, but back in January, Tom pointed to one square and explained that that was Mommy's birthday. I don't know what sense Edith made of the fact that a certain spot on the paper hanging on her wall was to be associated with her mother's a-doo-doo, but it stuck with her. Maybe she's wired like her mother to have strong space-sequence synesthesia, ordering days, weeks, and months in a clear mental spatial arrangement. At any rate, Edith wanted to know where other people's a-doo-doos belonged on the calendar. So we put a big red D on Daddy's in February, an M on her cousin Matthew's and a P on Uncle Peewee's in March, an A on cousin Abigail's and a T on Uncle Tim's in April, and an M on Mor-mor's in May...along with a big E for Edith's in the same month. This last is the most interesting, of course, and she now knows that while Mommy's a-doo-doo is on Polar Beah 10, Edith's a-doo-doo is on Little Beahs 5.

This morning, however, I told her we had arrived on Baby Monkey 28...or the big red D. Instantly she was alert.

"A-doo-doo, Daddy!" she called out to our bedroom, where Tom was trying to sleep in for his birthday. The mumbled response wasn't enough for her. She yelled it louder. Still unsatisfied with her father's level of enthusiasm, she snatched the calendar off the wall and ran into our bedroom to show him. Standing by the side of the bed and pointing urgently to the red D she explained, "A-DOO-DOO, Daddy! A-DOO-DOO!"

Tom later admitted he knew how she felt. As a child he'd always thought his parents were hopelessly laid back about their birthdays, too.