Dr. Dave and my Drunken Daughter

Longtime readers and friends of Gwen may remember that when she was an infant, we took her to a chiropractor for a series of treatments.  This was recommended by our lactation consultant, who noted that Gwen’s tension did not go away when she was being held, and that her constant screaming may be due to musculo-skeletal issues, rather than gastrointestinal ones.  At five months of age, Gwen finally stopped screaming and our lives changed drastically.  In many ways, I consider that time to be when our lives as a family really began – when Gwen was freed from constant pain and was able to begin developing her personality and her interactions with the world.

I’ve taken her back on a very loose schedule since then for check-ups, probably once a year or so.  I decided the time had come again this past week.  I also wanted Dr. Dave to look into what I see as a lack of physical co-ordination.  I have seen Gwen go from standing still on a flat surface to falling down, with no provocation whatsoever.  I have also seen her bump into our walls and furniture on a weekly basis for years – walls and furniture that have been in the same place in our house for her entire life.  I have been wondering about this for a while, and even Googled “five year old daughter acts drunk and falls down a lot” – which led me to the Wikipedia page for dyspraxia, where I found out that…

Issues with gross motor coordination can include the following:

·  Poor balance (sometimes even falling over in mid-step). Tripping over one's own feet is also common.

·  Difficulty combining movements into a controlled sequence.

·  Difficulty remembering the next movement in a sequence.

·  Problems with spatial awareness, or proprioception.

·  This disorder can cause an individual to be clumsy to the point of knocking things over and bumping into people accidentally.  People with dyspraxia may also have trouble determining the distance between them and other objects

In addition to the physical impairments, dyspraxia is associated with problems with memory, especially short-term memory. This typically results in difficulty remembering instructions, difficulty organizing one's time and remembering deadlines, increased propensity to lose things or problems carrying out tasks which require remembering several steps in sequence (such as cooking). However, many dyspraxics have excellent long-term memories, despite poor short-term memory.

This may manifest itself as an inability to tolerate certain textures ... including oral toleration of excessively textured food (commonly known as picky eating).

All of these things are things we have noticed with Gwen.  We often laugh about the fact that Gwen has been toilet-trained for over two years, but needs to be reminded EVERY TIME that flushing and washing hands are part of the sequence of that job.  (This despite the fact that there are pictures on the bathroom wall showing her each step.)  We are also gobsmacked by Gwen’s inability to remember what Mom or Dad just said, in contrast to her propensity to out-of-nowhere recount a conversation we had several months ago, and what she said and what we said and where we were and what we were wearing and what show we watched later that day.  And don't get me started on her eating habits.

Anyway, whether there is something a little different about Gwen or whether this is just a bad case of Google paranoia is yet to be seen.  But her visit to Dr. Dave was quite enlightening.  He has a little boy about the same age, so he was able to put her at ease with his questions about Dora the Explorer and other relevant topics.  After she was comfortable, he began his examination, and soon discovered a few issues.  As he moved her head and arms around, he used a silly voice to point out to me the things he was seeing – “Oh look Mom, I can turn my head waaaayyyy over here on this side, but then on the other side it only goes to here!  Isn’t that funny?”  Of course Gwen found this hilarious and was giggling the whole time.  He then asked her to stand up and walk across the room towards him while he looked at her gait.  She did this three times: once in a ‘normal’ gait, once pretending to be a tightrope-walker and walking with front heel touching back toes, and once with eyes closed.  Well, more accurately, he asked and pleaded and begged her to do it with eyes closed, but she probably only took a step or two, with her arms pinwheeling madly.  She just couldn’t do it.

Next, he read a few sequences of numbers to her and asked her to echo them back, which she did without difficulty.  Then he sat down to tell us about what he’d found.  Looking directly at me, he said, “I see what you mean, mate,” (yes, he’s Australian, that’s how he talks and it’s totally charming).  “There are definitely some things going on that are not age-appropriate.”  I can’t tell you how validated I felt in that moment!  I am quite used to being “blown off” by any number of people when I bring up Gwen’s various quirks and foibles – “she’ll grow out of it,” “it’s just her age,” “she’s just like that,” and so on.  And maybe all those commenters are right, and I am sure the comments come from a place of love and compassion, but … I don’t like being blown off.  I want someone to see what I see, and to wonder about it, and to investigate whether it could be better.  And that’s what Dr. Dave did.

(As a side note, mothers with screaming miserable babies get blown off a lot too.  “Babies cry!” and “She’ll grow out of it,” were certainly things I heard a lot as a new mom – and as a new mom, I didn’t know any better.  Now I do.)

Dr. Dave continued: “Sometimes co-ordination issues like this are associated with auditory processing issues, which is why I did that test with the numbers.  When this problem is present, kids can hear fine, but they can’t process and use what they hear.  I don’t see that problem here, she seems fine on that.  But there is definitely some chiropractic work to be done, and we should be able to see some improvements.”

He did a couple of adjustments on her, one of which improved her ability to turn her head from side to side (which he demonstrated afterwards).  He indicated that there was more to be done, but that he didn’t want to push too hard with her in the first session, and we should come back in about a week to continue the treatments.  I am happy to do this: my benefits pay for a good portion of the fees, and he did the work to make Gwen comfortable with his treatments, so there is very little “cost” to this and potentially a significant benefit.

When I told all this to Chris later, I got validated all over again, as he asked whether we should be seeking help from other professionals about a confirmed “age-inappropriate level of physical co-ordination”.  I feel at this point that we should continue with Dr. Dave and see how far chiropractic treatments can take us.  If at the end of that we feel there is still a significant problem, then we can look into other solutions – Dr. Dave may even be able to make suggestions about where else to go.  But for now, we will stick with this treatment and see what happens.

 

Dear Gwen: Month Fifty-Seven

Dear Gwen,

Today you are fifty-seven months old.

You have reached some very typical and famous phases this past month.  One of these is the stage of “Why?” which is best described by comedian Louis CK (NSFK due to language!).  You have always been a curious and, yes, distractible child – if I ask you to put your boots and coat on, it is likely that you will be far more interested in noticing and commenting on each of the 45 things you pass on your way to the front hall closet.  And now, now we have QUESTIONS to add to the mix!  This morning you noticed a craft tool I had borrowed from a friend.  “What is it used for?”  “How does it work?” “Can you show me?” “Why is it here?” “When did you use it?” on and on and on and ON.  Perhaps a future in investigative journalism is in order?

Another completely unsurprising stage is your obsession with weddings.  You play out wedding scenes often with your ponies and your stuffies, and are quite particular about which ones marry whom (it seems to have something to do with parity in size and colour).  Your frequent comments about weddings led to the following exchange:

Gwen: Mom, I want to marry YOU when I grow up.
Me: Well, each person can only marry one other person, and I’m already married to Dad.
Gwen: Okay, then I guess I will marry (school friend).

Me: Okay, good plan.
Gwen: And I will have ten kids.  Five boys and five girls.

Me: Great!  And will (school friend) be the dad?
Gwen: He will be the dad, but he won’t live with us.  I want to live alone with my ten kids.

Me: Wow!  You’re going to be very busy.

The other completely unsurprising phase is that of nakedness.  Though you don’t argue about the need to be completely clothed at school or other public places, you are pretty enthusiastic about just wearing undies and perhaps a shirt while at home.  On weekends, when you know we are not going out right away, you often ask, “Can I get dressed right before we leave?” and stay half-naked until then.  Well, what is a home if not a place to let it all hang out, says I, and so our living room often features a semi-clad preschooler happily playing ponies and asking endless questions about why people need to wear socks, anyway.

There have been some tough times in the past few months, though.  I wrote about your toe-chewing habit here three months ago, and since then we've encouraged you to stop.  It’s hard to guess how successful our efforts have been; clearly, not 100%, because your toes still show signs of chewing.  You have also started chewing your lip.  Your dad and I sort of had different ideas about what was causing this behaviour – I felt concerned that, like me, you are a girl with lots of nervous energy and a compulsion to “pick”; however, I wasn’t sure if I was just projecting my own habits onto you.  But last week you made a comment that perfectly articulated the problem.  You told me that your lip was hurting because you had made an owie there.  As I have done before, I told you that the only way to get it to stop hurting was to stop chewing on it.  You said, “Sometimes I forget about the hurt and I do the thing that makes it hurt.”  It took my breath away, that you articulated this so well – and it broke my heart, that you have this painful compulsion.

I think that the same compulsion finds other avenues as well, especially in those times (usually 20-90 minutes) while you are waiting to fall asleep at night.  You have wreaked a lot of destruction on your room.  We used to have a bulletin board hanging above your bed, but we had to remove it when we found several of the push pins in your bed in the morning.  You've been tearing papers, poking holes in pictures, and even picking at the paint on your walls.  I wish I knew how to help you stop before these habits become even further entrenched.  In the meantime, we just keep taking out of your room any items that we think you might destroy – your room is getting quite bare!

You have also started a short-term ballet class which are you are really enjoying.  In the back of my mind, I am seriously considering signing you up for a full-term, ten-month dance program this fall, if we can afford it and if you are ready to give your full attention to the teacher.  We have talked a couple of times lately about how you can run around and play tag and jump in the air and meet friends and talk to other kids ANY TIME, but ballet class (or piano class) is the only time you have in the WHOLE WEEK to learn ballet (or piano), so your focus should be on that.  Hopefully the message is sinking in.

Of course, there have been a lot of great times in the past month as well.  There was Christmas, and loads of gifts, and then your cousins and grandparents and auntie came to visit and see my play, and you reveled in all of it.  Piano lessons have begun again, and you have learned how to write original composition – your first piece is an ode to your beloved stuffed bunny, and the lyrics are as follows:

I love you Bun
You’re my best friend

We snuggle up

Cuddle and hug

Drawing pictures of what she wants to see and do at Disneyland.

I don't know if you can tell, but  Gwen picked that entire outfit ALL BY HERSELF.

Well, I think that’s it for this month, Gwen.  As always, I love you a million, billion, kajillion and four, and I look forward to what the next month will bring.

Love,

Mama

Dear Gwen: Month Fifty-Six

Dear Gwen,

Today you are fifty-six months old. 

You are changing and maturing a lot, but it's hard to put these changes into words.  A few months ago when preschool started for the year, I felt awed by the fact that you would be in kindergarten in only a year - I wondered if you would be ready.  Now, I know that you will be.  You are becoming more independent and more socially competent, understanding what is expected of you and also able to stand up for yourself and express your needs.  A couple of weeks ago at preschool, when I dropped you off in the morning a playmate repeatedly told you, "You can't sit there, Gwen," when you attempted to join her at the art table.  Not only did you NOT become angry and aggressive towards her, but you remained calm and used your words: "The art table is for everyone, we have to share."  A teacher soon came to back you up and defuse the situation, and sure enough you joined the friends at the art table.  But I was so impressed with how you handled that situation, that I knew you would do well in kindergarten.

You are also getting better at telling stories of your day.  It's not usually something I can prompt you to do, but once in a while you open up and say, "You know what?" and actually follow this up with a fairly lengthy, interesting, cohesive story of events at school.  These stories always provide a totally fascinating glimpse into your day, and I am proud that you are getting better at putting these events into words.  What a neat skill.

 Speaking of proud, one of the highlights of this past month and possibly of our whole year was your piano recital on December 7.   You have been taking weekly group piano lessons since early September, and you enjoy them and are learning a lot.  To prepare for the recital, your teacher brought a microphone to class and encouraged all the kids to get up and talk into the microphone, introducing themselves by name.  Though some of the kids were very hesitant about this, you were SO ready, and needed a lot of encouragement to be patient and wait for your turn.  When your turn came, you burst out of my arms and dashed to the microphone.  "Hello, my name is Gwen and I'm going to play Jingle Bells."  The teacher and I exchanged looks of awe and surprise.  Not only did you understand *exactly* what was expected before a recital performance, but ... well ... as the teacher said, "Do you know how to play Jingle Bells?!"  You walked confidently to the piano, then turned and confessed, "Well, I actually only know how to sing it."  So you sang it.  And the class applauded as you took a proud bow.

"Jingle Bells" turned out to be a bit beyond your skills just yet for the actual recital, but I chose another piece called "Christmas Time" that was within your reach.  When recital night came, once again you were chomping at the bit to get up on stage and do your piece.  Luckily, Mrs. H. knows that little kids are less patient than big kids, and she had scheduled the performance program accordingly.  Your piece was the fourth one played.  Once again, you got up to the microphone and said in a loud, clear voice, "Hello, my name is Gwen and I'm going to play Christmas Time."  I helped you climb up on the bench and push it in so you could reach the keys on the grand piano.  I put your music book on the piano and asked you if you could see the key you needed to start with ("Critter C").  When you nodded yes, I moved to the side and, just like we do at home, counted you in and then pointed at each note in turn.  You played it perfectly!  Nice and loud, steady rhythm, and correct fingering technique.  Sure, it was a very simple piece that only included two notes, but that's not the point - you got up on stage and performed effectively and accurately.  What a grand start to your musical career!

 The very next day was the last session of your Musical Dance Theatre class, and this allowed your dad and me to see the vast difference that an engaged, experienced, knowledgeable teacher makes.  Whereas your usual dance class doesn't allow the parents to stay, as it is distracting to the kids, the last session is "parent watch day" where we get to stick around and see all the things you've learned over the weeks.  In stark contrast to the recital the night before, this class was an utter gong show.  You and your classmates ran repeatedly from one end of the room to the other, mostly ignoring the teacher's instructions but having one heck of a fun time.  At one point, the teacher was trying to gather the 5-6 girls together in a circle to sing a song.  You had decided instead to sit down in your own spot about eight feet away.  One by one, the girls that had been sitting with the teacher got up and came to sit down with you.  When your circle got bigger than the teacher's circle, she warned, "You have to be sitting over here to sing our song!", at which point you just started singing your own song.  Most of the parents found this utterly hilarious.  I hid my face in my jacket.

In any case, it seems really clear to me that you are a kid who needs preparation and rehearsal.  You need the teacher to bring in the microphone prior to recital day and tell you what she expects you to say, then give you a chance to practice it.  You need the teacher (or parent) to walk you through these things and make sure you are ready, that all your questions and concerns are addressed.  Mrs. H. is an experienced teacher who has done dozens of recitals and she is used to this process.  Your dance teacher, a young woman who is about to start university, just doesn't have that experience yet.  And that's okay, because it was still pretty funny to watch.

I have been off work lately, and this has allowed me to participate in some of your preschool Christmas events that I wouldn't normally get to be part of.  A few weeks ago was the big bus trip, a huge highlight of the school year where all the kids and teachers walk to the bus stop and catch the city bus to a nearby shopping mall.  The group takes the presents and toys they've been collecting over the previous weeks to the Giving Tree, where they will then be passed on to kids whose parents can't afford to buy gifts - a wonderful, valuable lesson in generosity and gratitude.  Then the kids all walk down to see Santa Claus and have a group picture taken.  If Santa isn't too busy at the time, the kids get to sing him some Christmas songs - Up on the Rooftop and Must Be Santa are perennial favourites.  Finally, the whole group walk across the parking lot to Swiss Chalet for a pre-ordered lunch.  This year, I met your school group at the mall and walked with you to the Giving Tree, Santa, and then to the restaurant, where I said goodbye and let you enjoy the rest of the day with your school friends.  It was a real treat to watch you participate in this event, and I also got a kick out of being with the other kids, some of whom I have gotten to know well in the past 18 months.  A few days later was another big event: Santa came to your preschool to visit and hand out presents!  Every child got a chance to sit on Santa's lap and say what they wanted for Christmas.  Though you are still quite shy of Santa, you did bravely sit on his lap, though I'm not sure you uttered a single word to him!  Again, I got to be there for this special time, and I was really grateful for that.  At one point, I had three happy kids on MY lap!

These events, and the collection of pictures in your preschool memory book that your teachers put together, has led me to reflect on how much you have grown and changed in the past year and a half.  Specifically, I was thinking about how you were one of the younger kids when you first came to preschool, but now you are one of the older ones with many younger ones having joined this year and many older ones going off to kindergarten.  I guess you won't have that experience again, to be in the same program for two years.  But something tells me you will be showing other kids the ropes by the second week of kindergarten, whether you know what you're talking about or not.

As I wrote last month, we took you to see Rise of the Guardians, which you call the Jack Frost movie.  You loved it, predictably, and were very excited when you received a Jack Frost toy at a McDonald's birthday party a few days later.  A week or so ago, you found this toy hanging on the Christmas tree.
 
Gwen: Mom, this is a toy, not an ornament!
Me: Well, I didn't put it there. Maybe he flew there by himself.
Gwen (gasping): Did he come to LIFE?
Me: I don't know, what do you think?
Gwen: Jack Frost, can I please, please, please see you come to life?
Gwen (in a lower voice): I would be delighted.

What an imaginative, hilarious, and entertaining girl you are!

Well I think that's about it for this month, Gwen.  You are really growing up and I am so proud of you and so excited to celebrate Christmas with you.  I love you a million, billion, kajillion and four!

Love,
Mama

Dear Gwen: Month Fifty-Five

Dear Gwen,

 

Today you are fifty-five months old.

You continue to grow and change in fascinating ways, and are becoming ever more competent and capable.  While mornings continue to be a struggle, you are generally good as gold when we get home from school, knowing immediately what tasks are expected (take off boots and jacket, put them away; take containers out of lunch kit and put in dishwasher; put away lunch kit) without any reminders.  In general, you are excited and proud to show me that you have done these tasks.  A few days ago, as you unpacked your lunch kit, you commented, “Mom, the dishwasher’s pretty full now, but it doesn’t have any soap.”  “Well, would you like to put the soap in?” I asked, and you certainly did.  It was one of those moments, Gwen, when I looked at you and took a mental picture – I felt so glad that I was raising an observant, competent person, I felt like a good mom for guiding you to this point, and I caught a glimpse of who you are turning into.  It was a lovely moment.

(And just in case anyone is wondering, I would ABSOLUTELY expect the same domestic helpfulness from a son.  The generation(s) of men who have been raised without these skills, in addition to being pretty helpless on their own, make pretty crappy partners.  Mothers of sons, you’re not going to let that happen to the next generation, right?)

 You are still a very emotional and intense little girl, but you are finally starting to learn how to regulate your emotions a little more.  Recently, when you have become overwrought with anger or sadness, you have demonstrated that you know exactly how to soothe yourself so that you are ready to let go of that emotion.  Where previously you looked to me to soothe you, you can now recognize and say, “I want to rest,” or “I want to be by myself,” and go do that for a few minutes until you are calm.  This is pretty huge.  For you to begin to understand, at four and a half years old, that your emotions are your own responsibility, AND that you have the tools to deal with them … well, let’s just say I know one or two adults who are still struggling to learn that lesson.  And on some occasions, you do still look to me for comfort and cuddles, and I am all too happy to provide them.  It’s pretty fascinating to watch you realize that you have different options for different problems, and to choose the one you want in each situation.

 

There has been a lot of talk of movies in our house, this past month.  Around Halloween, I took you to see a special showing of Casper at the movie theatre – a fundraiser for a good cause that only cost us $2 each.  I’d never seen the movie before, but as you’ve been watching and thoroughly adoring The Nightmare Before Christmas since the age of two, I generally feel that you are pretty capable of dealing with scares – so I wasn’t too worried, even with a PG rating.  And sure enough, you managed just fine – no problems during the film; you watched the entire thing; and there were no nightmares following. 

A few days later, I decided I’d had it up to here with watching cartoons and wanted to watch something with real people in it.  So I put on Charlie and the ChocolateFactory, which like your beloved Nightmare Before Christmas is directed by Tim Burton, and also rated PG.  Well, this was a mistake.  I believe that you were put off right away by the eerie, discordant music in the film, but you hung in there … until about 30 minutes in, when Augustus Gloop fell into the chocolate river and was sucked up a large Plexiglas pipe.  That put an immediate, shrieking end to our Chocolate Factory experience.  Why did this frighten you so, while watching a child pull a shrunken head out of a Christmas box just makes you laugh?  I don’t know.  Perhaps it’s the fact that Augustus was played by a real actor, while the shrunken head recipient is an animated character and thus not ‘real’.  In any case, I felt pretty bad for causing you such fright, and promised you that you would never have to watch that movie again.  (I also told you that if we HAD watched a few more minutes, we would have seen Augustus climb out of the pipe in another room, have a nice bath to get all cleaned up, and then go home with his mom and a lifetime’s supply of chocolate.  Anyone who tells you differently will have ME to reckon with!)

 Anyway, we then watched The Wizard of Oz which you immediately adored.  This movie seems to have gotten into your brain somehow, and you are thinking about it, singing songs from it, and asking questions from it often.  For example: “What are poppies, and why do they make you go to sleep?”  “What is courage?”  and “Why doesn’t this movie have any colours?”  (Fortunately, that one was rectified fairly quickly … but it is kind of hard to explain to a little girl born in the age of smartphones and internet that movies used to NOT be in colour!)

From what I can remember, Casper is the first full-length non-animated movie that you’ve seen, and I’m looking forward to exposing you to more, especially more musicals.  In the meantime, another movie milestone is that for the first time, you are anticipating seeing a movie at the theatre.  When we saw Brave this summer, we saw a preview for Rise of theGuardians, which you call “the Jack Frost movie”.  For the first time, you understood that this was a preview for another movie, and that you could go see that movie at a later date (though the ‘later’ part, and all the waiting for the release date, has been harder to grasp).  All that time, you have waited and looked forward to the movie.  When we went to the theatre for Casper, there were posters up, and you were hopeful that this meant we could go see “Jack Frost” that day too – but the movie wasn’t released until just this week.  The waiting is almost over and I’m really looking forward to taking you to this movie, as soon as our schedule allows!

By the way, Gwen, if it seems like I’m pretty focused on movies this month, well … I’m a movie lover, and so is your dad.  In fact, the first time we met we spent a lot of time quoting movies at each other and testing each other’s movie knowledge, as a way of testing each other’s tastes.  We played the same game at our wedding dinner.  So, the fact that you are now at an age to enjoy movies that we enjoy, to anticipate the excitement of seeing a new film for the first time, to love as much as we do the experience of going to the theatre … yeah, it’s a pretty big deal for me.  I look forward to enjoying a LOT of movies with you as you grow!

As always, Gwen, I love you a million billion kajillion and four, and am so glad you’re my daughter.  There are so many exciting things coming up next month: your first music recital, Christmas and the children’s pageant at church, and of course the Jack Frost show.  I can’t wait to share them all with you!

 

Love,

Mama

Dear Gwen: Month Fifty-Four

Dear Gwen,

Today you are fifty-four months old: officially four and a half.

 

 

You are really growing up and becoming more of a child than a toddler. It’s amazing to witness. You are very sharp and observant and curious, and are asking really interesting questions about the world around you. It’s kind of astounding to see how you think so deeply about things, even as you continue to be a very busy, chatty, active little girl. A week ago, you asked me the big question: “How come I don’t have a little sister?”

I always thought I would be upset when you asked that question, but that wasn’t the case. You weren’t upset either – just very matter-of-fact – so I matched your mood and responded, “Some people have two kids or one kid or no kids. Some people have three kids or five kids.” “Or a HUNDRED kids!” you joined gleefully, as that is the number of kids you tell me you plan to have someday (50 boys and 50 girls. The girls are named Princess and the boys are named King.) “That’s right,” I agreed. “Mommy and Daddy only wanted to have one kid. And we are SO GLAD it’s you!” You accepted this quite easily and went on with whatever you were doing.

 

An example of a sharp observation you made recently came when we were listening to a Raffi CD in the car. Raffi was singing about how a great variety of people were being sat upon by an elephant. He named lots of people, including Dennis and Bonnie and many others. After a moment, you told me that Sharon (your preschool teacher) would probably be pretty mad if an elephant sat on her husband Dennis and her dog Bonnie! I was pretty impressed with how you put that all together.

 

You are going through kind of a sensitive phase right now (at least, I really hope it’s a phase). I’ve written here often of how dawdly you are, especially in the mornings, and how it takes a lot of effort to move you through your daily routines. Well, we have to be careful how we prompt you on this, because even an utterance of your name in a firm or raised voice can cause you to burst into tears and flee the scene – thus putting us even more behind schedule. Recently, you responded to my admonishment of “Gwen!” by hiding under my desk crying. When I came to find you, you said, “I don’t think anyone loves me right now.” It was heartbreaking! I explained to you that Mom and Dad will always love you, no matter what, but that it is frustrating for us when you don’t listen to us and get your morning (or evening) jobs done. It makes me really sad that one word would be enough to make you feel unloved – the rest of the day, I really do try to fill up your love tank, bottomless though it may seem.

Many of our fall activities have begun and more are starting soon. You have been in piano lessons now for over a month, and mostly seem to enjoy them, although the practice at home can be a challenge. I have chosen ‘right before dinner’ as our practice time, which is good in that we are almost always home for dinner and it’s a very consistent time, but bad in that it’s the end of your day and your behaviour is not always great (nor is my patience). There are certain concepts in your music learning that you catch on to incredibly fast. For example, the curriculum uses various animals and characters to teach the notes: “Creepy Crawling Critter” is C, “Dancing Dinosaur” is D, and “Elegant Edyth the Elk” is E. You take these in very quickly and then seem to have no further use for them: You know where C is, with or without the cutesy name. Also, your firm grasp on high notes and low notes, and your quick understanding of which end of the piano produces what pitch, has led to your finally being able to tell the difference between your left and right. The usual “left-hand-makes-an-L-shape” is pretty confusing to a pre-literate kid, after all, but my improvised sing-song that “right hand makes high notes” (because right and high kind of rhyme) and “left hand makes low notes” (because left and low begin with the same letter) has sunk in quite effectively. You are able to identify your left [body part] or right [body part] on demand, very quickly, even when not sitting in front of the piano. Hooray!

Our other activity is Kingdom Kids, which I am grateful is only every second week since I am the leader of this club! I am finding it very challenging to balance my role as your mom with my role as the club leader – not necessarily during the club meeting, when I get to be with all the kids and do craft time, story time, and so on, but before and after the meetings, when it’s only you and me on hand and I am really busy rearranging the entire room (and then putting it all back), setting up all the supplies (and then putting them all back in my car), and all the other set-up and take-down activities. You are largely ignored during this time and it’s really unfair, especially after club is over when we really need to get home, and you are tired and hungry and so completely done, and your mom is moving 35 chairs back to position and you are SO OVER IT. Other than these logistics, you are really enjoying KK club, and I think you like that your mom is the teacher and that you get to be in the loop on what we are doing before the other kids. And I was so proud of you when we were on our way to our second club meeting and I mentioned how last time, you had gotten to find the special message from our puppet. You picked up your cue right away and told me that “Tonight, I’m going to let someone else have a turn.” And you did! You are the best!

Now here’s an odd thing. A few days ago you plunked yourself down on the couch, peeled off your sock, and stuck your big toe in your mouth. It’s not so much the toe in the mouth that is odd, actually – it’s the matter-of-fact way in which you performed this task. When I casually asked you what you were doing, your response was even more interesting: “I don’t know if you want to know, Mommy.” Well naturally this made me even more curious, but I kept it low-key as I replied that actually, I really did want to know. You showed me your toe and asked me to feel its texture: it was ‘stripey’ and ‘polka-dotty’ and ‘funner’ (your words). Apparently you engage in this behaviour quite often in bed, before you go to sleep. Well, your dad had noticed for the past few months that the skin on your big toes was shredded and raw, and had wondered if you had some kind of fungus. Nope. It’s just you, chewing your foot for some reason. I asked if it hurt your toe when you chewed on it, but you said it didn’t. Whether this is the result of some kind of anxiety (which seems to run in our family) or whether you are simply enjoying the physical stimulation, I don’t know, and I don’t think you have the language to express either without me putting words in your mouth. Either way, we will have to figure out a way to help you stop this, as it’s not a healthy habit. Eventually, you won’t be able to put your foot in your mouth, but if you’ve already built a habit of chewing/picking by then, you’ll just find something else to fill that need. I still find it quite interesting that you chose to demonstrate this habit to me, and I told you at the time how glad I was that you told me about it. 

Well, I think that’s it for this month, Gwen. As always you are awesome and hilarious and smart and fascinating and wonderful and crazy. I love you a million, billion, kajillion and four and a half.

 

Love,

Mom