It's a small world after all

The stars have aligned for funny coincidences this week, largely through Edith's daycare:

First, I found out a full month into the new schoolyear that Kate, the mother of the new little girl in Edith's class, Sarah, who moved with her family into the building next to us but whose parents I hadn't yet met, turns out to be Kate from my residential college at Yale. I recognized her as someone I knew the minute I saw her and took another few minutes to place her. She was two years ahead of me and in charge of JE intramurals. I re-introduced myself, and we had a fun time catching up. Edith and Sarah, as well as another new little girl, Katherine, all are about the same height and have the same little bobbed blond heads. You really have to get down and peer into their faces to see which is which when they're all milling about at school. The head teacher emails us all digital photos from school every few days, and Kate told me that for the first few weeks, she thought Sarah was appearing in quite a high percentage of the pictures...until she noticed that Sarah appeared twice in one picture.

The next coincidence was when I got an email from my friend Kinnari in Oregon on which a number of people were cc'd. I wondered why Kinnari was emailing Edith's daycare teacher. It turns out that Edith's teacher and Kinnari's sister have exactly the same name.

Finally, completely unrelated to Edith but in line with these other small-world occurrences, I was listening to one of my Egyptian neighbors talk on the shuttle bus about how he came to study Old Testament theology. He cited one of his seminary teachers in Cairo as the most profound influence on him--someone with the same name as my favorite TA when I was an undergraduate, a student of early Christian history who moved to Cairo to take a teaching position shortly after I was in his class. Yep, same person.

But to get back to daycare. In the Maybe the World is a Little Too Small for This Scheme category:

It turns out that show-and-share at Edith's daycare is to proceed alphabetically. As part of the class's study of a letter a week, they are each supposed to bring in something on Friday that begins with that week's letter.

The challenge is the great variability in number of items beginning with each letter that the average toddler is likely to have. The first week, Edith brought in one of several toy airplanes being shown. The next week, by contrast, I realized that we really could milk B for at least a month of show-and-shares. Oh, the dilemma. Should Edith bring a

baby
ball
basket
bear
blocks
box (of barrettes and bows)
bucket
bulldozer
bus
or any one of her beloved books?

Thought she was, in fact, reading Benjamin Bunny that morning, we thought that a miniature book might be a bit tricky to show to the whole class. She opted instead for Blueberries for Sal. Harrison, who did in fact bring a bulldozer, apparently was waffling between the various types of vehicles on which he is expert and almost went with a backhoe loader instead.

C offered a more limited set of choices again but wasn't impossible, and Edith headed off with a toy cow this morning.

I'm already looking ahead a couple of weeks and am glad we named her Edith and that people have given her a number of items with her name on them. If she brings her Edith puzzle, it may mean that Elmo gets shown only ten times instead of eleven.


And in the "...Smile Means Friendship to Everyone" category:

Edith has a little puzzle featuring children from all around the world saying hello in different languages. The other day she picked up one of her favorite pieces and smiled. I suspect she likes it because the girl is wearing a pretty pink headscarf.

"Salaam," she said, and put it in place.

Then she started searching around and asked, "Where's shalom?"

She found the little boy with the skullcap and prayer shawl and put him in place, too. Then she smiled.

"They sound the same. I think they must be friends."

From the mouths of babes. If only, Edith.

Camping

Some long-time readers of Edith's blog may remember that we tried camping as a family for the first time last September in Virginia. We were hooked, especially Tom, who had been fantasizing about a return trip all year. We decided we didn't need to go all the way to Shenandoah this time to have a similar experience and this year tried out the Michaux State Forest just west of Gettysburg for a couple of days. It was an almost perfect getaway: postcard-perfect weather, peace and quiet, and 100% family time. And Edith could enjoy it that much better for being a year older. Here she is eating lunch atop Chimney Rocks, a site to which we hiked one morning. The stone that makes for such characteristic Pennsylvania architecture also makes for great bouldering about in the woods. Who needs a playground?

The very first thing Edith learned to do when we got out of the car was to follow blazes. At first she had no idea what I meant when I told her to look for the blue marks on the trees along the path, but she quickly caught on and enjoyed ferreting out the way. "The trees are telling us where to go."

The trees first led us to this fantastic cabin, part of the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club's set of "primitive" cabins along the AT from Virginia to Pennsylvania. When it came to primitiveness, the Hermitage was an order of magnitude different from Pocosin, the cabin where we stayed last year. That was truly a one-room shelter from the elements, with wooden slats for bunks, a wood stove, and almost no interior light. It was near the crest of the Blue Ridge in the backcountry, and we saw no one else the whole time we were there. Though the description of the Hermitage in the brochure was little different from Pocosin, it turned out to have glass windows, a wreath on the door, a solar composting outhouse, cooking utensils as complete as in our home, and a cabinet full of board games. It even had a dog leash and bowls for guests' use. Evidently the amenities in the various cabins can vary a great deal depending on the local overseer.

Both experiences were good in their own way: While the Hermitage surprised us with its unanticipated luxuries, Pocosin was more thoroughly removed from the rest of the world. The Hermitage is nestled in a pretty hemlock forest that is nevertheless surrounded by local roads, parks, and picnic areas, all within a mile or so.

Twenty-eight months old is not much better than sixteen months old when it comes to endurance for hiking. Though we had no expectations of a quick pace on our three-mile hikes each day, Edith nevertheless wound up riding much of the way like this. Which is more or less manageable....

...But Edith never let a family hike get in the way of her post-lunch nap, and once she became 32 pounds of dead weight, the going got considerably tougher. Tom and I have both had our bicep workouts for the month.

Bismarck took his rests when and where he could. This trip was partly a birthday celebration for him (7 years old), and he was in heaven. No leash, no restrictions, able to go everywhere with us, no neighbors to keep track of, and tons and tons of exercise. He was as stiff and hobbly as we were by the end, even without doing any of the toddler lifting.


Proving herself to be more of a track & field than a cross-country type, at one of those points when Edith could not be persuaded to walk another foot down the trail we happened on a fire pit at a campsite, and suddenly she sprang to life.

One morning Edith found a rock above our cabin that she decided was hers. Though as she told me, "God put it there."

Tooth brushing around the campfire.

The temperature was perfect: highs in the seventies with a slight chill in the evenings, enough to make one's sleeping bag feel super-cozy. At least, Tom and I thought so. Edith did not sleep well in the new surroundings, despite her daytime fascination with the sleeping loft and pride in her ability to navigate the steep ladder up and down on her own. Her discomfiture at waking up to pitch blackness made for some rather sleepless nights for Mama. Much nursing, followed by the eventual succumbing to cold and fatigue, at which point I would bring her into my sleeping bag for the remainder of the night. Have you ever slept inside a cement mixer? Edith kicked her way out of the sleeping bag and launched her self headfirst over the sweatshirts piled up as a pillow or sideways off the mattress onto the wood floor more times than I could count. No wonder we often find her jammed against the head of her crib with her arms hanging out between the bars.

"Mommy, I'm happy."

More word play

Edith is taking new risks with her language these days, trying out lines from her books in new situations where she thinks they might be applicable.

Tonight she was begging for mommy milk.
"No, sweetheart," said. "You know we only have mommy milk at bedtime."
A frustrated Edith cried, "Zut alors!"

We hung up a large map of the United States in her room one day while she was at school. When she came in and saw it she smiled and asked, "It's to be admired?"
(Note: We haven't yet traced the source of all her utterances. I never imagined a two year old would be the Peter Wimsey in my life, casually sprinkling her conversation with arcane literary references.)

Her memory jogged by something this evening she said, "'Member when I stayed at Mom-mom's house while you were away?" We said we did. "And I was sleeping in Matthew's bed the whole time." (They put her in the crib where her cousin Matthew usually sleeps when all of the cousins are there at once.) I nodded. "And suddenly you came from every direction."
Another one we're still trying to trace.

This morning I told her a new family story, about when Mor-mor's car ran out of gas on the railroad tracks when Uncle Peter and I were little. And how we were in the backseat and some men helped Mor-mor push the car clear of the tracks just before a train came.

Maybe it was ill-advised: Edith has been asking about this one all day. And when she's not asking, she just starts narrating it. We were coming down the stairs at the public library, for example, when she suddenly said as if reading a story book, "And the very next day, Peter, who was a little bit scared, filled up all the cars at daycare with gas. So they would never run out."

"A very long time ago now, about last Friday"

Edith has started to love hearing stories of what she was like when she was younger. Twenty-eight months seems such a brief span to an adult--to us the whole thing is part of one discrete period that we're still living, her babyhood/our seminary housing days--that it's strange to realize we can tell her stories about what she used to be like and it's really very different.

Edith is proudly owning these recollections. "When I was a teeny, tiny baby," she'll tell people, "I used to say 'muh-mih,' not 'pumpkin.'"

A teeny tiny baby, like, last Halloween. Eleven months ago. Sigh.

She's clearly got Boger and Lank genes, because she is developing a delight in telling family stories more generally. She currently likes the one:

"When Daddy was a little boy, he went on the Ferris wheel with Uncle Tim. They stopped at the top and it was dark and Daddy was a little bit scary [sic]. But Uncle Tim say 'It's okay, you not need to be scared, we coming down.'"

Actually Uncle Tim said something more along the lines of "Yep, Tommy, the fair is closing for the night and they forgot us up here. We're stuck." But we're not sure Edith is ready for that version. She's already wide-eyed with the drama as it is. For those of us who weren't actually around for that fair in 1982, it's too hard to believe of her kind and loving Uncle Tim anyhow.

Telling stories sometimes requires complicated grammatical constructions, and Edith is increasingly trying those on for size. She sputtered for quite awhile trying to get this one out the other day but eventually told me, "Daddy thought I was in my room, but he didn't realize I was actually opening the 'frigerator."

Okay, so the stories aren't always scintillating. But give her eleven months.

Back-to-School-Night

I don't know if it's a regionalism, but when I was growing up in New Jersey, the evening when parents go to their children's school to meet with the teachers, known as Open House elsewhere, was known as Back-To-School-Night. That's the case at Edith's daycare, too. Tis year's Back-to-School-Night was this past Thursday, and it seemed to prompt funny remarks on a variety of fronts.

Kids aren't welcome at Back-to-School-Night, which poses a babysitting dilemma, so we decided Tom would get to go this year while I watched Edith at home. I offered to watch Harrison, too, so both his parents could go. At dinner I asked Edith if she knew where Daddy was going after we ate. When she didn't, I told her that he was going to go be in Ms. Bela and Ms. Monika's class for a night. He would visit Pipsqueak and maybe play with some of the toys. Edith looked a little mystified. Then she offered her only comment: "Don't take my cubby, Daddy!"

Edith, Harrison and I had fun at home putting together a giant truck puzzle that Harrison brought over. E and H cooperated with each other very well in working on the project. At one point when she was stuck Edith asked, "Please help me with this piece, Harrison," and at another point encouraged him, "You can do it, bud!" Harrison was equally considerate and team-spirited.

Later on the playground Harrison asked me if I had hair. I said I did. He then informed me, "I have hair, too. It's curly all over my head and long down to my shoulders."

Meanwhile, Tom was enjoying the commentary by our neighbor, Kevin, at school. (For those of you who don't know Kevin, please imagine the most low-key, understated guy you know.) The Older Toddler teachers spent a good deal of time talking about potty training. To facilitate potty use at school, they asked that parents dress children in easy-to-remove clothing. "So no overalls...[we sent Edith in overalls today]...no onesies [we sent Edith in a onesie today]..." Kevin asked, "No bunny suits?"

Um yep, that would be us, too. It was the quick solution to get a recalcitrant Edith out the door a few weeks ago.

Later the teachers explained that they hoped to involve parents at school this year by inviting them in to share any of their particular interests with the children. Kevin spoke up: "Oh, yeah, skydiving."

Older Toddler

Edith started a new schoolyear Monday. Prospects look bright in the Older Toddler room. There's a guinea pig named Pipsqueak and a quiet library nook for reading. And only the Older Toddlers have a special exit directly onto the playground.

There are certain new skills that the teachers start introducing immediately with each move up to a new class. Last year's shift from Infant to Young Toddler brought hand-washing before meals and learning to share toys. This round brings drinking from regular cups and starting potty training. Good stuff--in her view and ours. And she gets to carry a lunchbox to school now and to bring in something for Show & Share each Friday. (The "Tell" part seems to be missing from the title these days, but I have no doubt Edith will see fit to include it.)

Edith's first-day-of-school photo pose struck me as somewhere between her mother's eager-beaver shots and her uncle's outright defiance.

Not one to be interrupted in her morning reading, Edith requested that Daddy continue the chapter of Winnie-the-Pooh all the way to school. A note of farewell from her old teacher thanked Edith for bringing her love of reading to the Young Toddler class and invited her to come back and read her favorite books to the new children in that class now and then. A possible translation: We've got The Great Gracie Chase memorized by now, and we know you do, too. Your turn to do the heavy lifting!

Edith returned home from the first day of school already seeming more grown-up to us. She was eager to show off her new ponytail, courtesy of Ms. Chrissy in the Preschool class. The fact that she liked a special hairdo and wanted to keep it in (she woke up at 11pm crying because her ponytail was gone) is already a sign of a new outlook.

Eking out the last hours of summer

We're unwilling to let summer slip away from us without mounting a final resistance. So as soon as Tom finished his final exam in summer Hebrew, at noon on August 31, we hopped into the car and headed to Chapel Hill for a week with Mor-mor and Grandpa. Never mind that fall semester was well underway in North Carolina and that the New Jersey public schools would swing into gear while we were gone. If Princeton University, Princeton Seminary, and Princeton daycare are going to meander their way towards start dates in mid- to late-September, we're willing to take advantage of their backwardness.

We had a great time in Chapel Hill, where Edith figured out in about the first twenty seconds of our visit that she had the devoted attention of grandmother, grandfather, and visiting uncle alike...and no one with whom she had to share the spotlight.

Trying to figure out this "YMCA" thing at the Durham Bulls' final game of the regular season. This was our first day in Chapel Hill, and Edith demonstrated her keen appreciation of her Visiting Grandchild status by finagling ice cream out of her Mor-mor and Grandpa at the ball park...twice.

Though she tried her best, Wool E. Bull was less susceptible to her charms.

Edith started each morning by helping Grandpa feed the birds in the backyard, earning the nickname Deer Hunter when she twice glanced out into the woods and picked out camoflauged deer who were waiting to move in on the scattered seed.

Having helped Grandpa spot deer, she was further ready to assist in his administrative duties at the law school. She was preparing to issue her first official statement...

...when she was distracted by her reflection in the shiny desktop. A factor to keep in mind when considering a toddler for an office position.

We were all delighted that Uncle Peter could visit from Wisconsin the same weekend.

And despite its other drawbacks these days, car travel has the great advantage of allowing us to bring Bismarck with us. He loves the woods, the distance from noisy neighbors, and the further attention in Chapel Hill.

No, the Deer Hunter didn't live up to her nickname. But she did enjoy the Life and Science Museum in Durham.

Checking out the muskrat with Mor-mor

And the trout with Uncle Peewee

We drove down to Charlotte one day to visit with Tom's college roommate, Chris, and his family. It was great to see them all, but things have certainly changed: Back in Ithaca, Tom and Chris's heart-to-heart talks never included two year olds spinning around in crowns and princess jewelry.

Borrowing Katie's finery

Maybe another generation's friendship is beginning

Speaking of generations, Edith and Great-Grandma Mary enjoyed sharing a visit one afternoon, too.

When the rest of the family headed back to work after Labor Day, Tom and Edith tried a toddler yoga class at the Chapel Hill children's museum. Edith's account: "I be a snake! The snake lies on its belly. It hears something and looks up and goes 'sssssthhh'."

We left Chapel Hill sadly last Thursday and 133 picture books later, arrived home--where we promptly mounted a final rearguard action against the advance of autumn on a graduate student family day trip to Sesame Place. But those pictures will have to wait until another post. We have a first day of school to get ready for...