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

 

More Signs of How Fast She's Growing Up

Gwen is starting to have an interest in money and the value of money. I have always been pretty upfront with her when she asks for things – whether it’s at the grocery store or in reference to a new toy – saying, “we don’t have money for that right now.” Recently she has started to catch on that certain outings cost money – Jumpin’ Jiminy’s, the pool – while others don’t – the playground, the waterpark. And certainly she has noticed my preference for the ones that are free. Earlier this week, after hearing about her two friends’ recent trip to Disneyland, she put all of her thoughts together and, as usual, came up with a “great idea” – “Mom, you don’t have to worry about enough money for Disneyland, because I have money IN MY PIGGYBANK!”

She found her piggybank and took out all the money. We sorted the different coins into piles (do all four-year-olds love sorting as much as Gwen does?), and then I talked a little about the value of the different coins. After counting them all up, we had a grand total of fifteen dollars. I then dropped the bomb that a family trip to Disneyland would probably cost about five thousand dollars. I thought briefly of trying to visually show her the amount of five thousand as compared to fifteen, but decided we’d had enough didactic learning for one day, and besides, no need to depress the poor child. Anyway, lest you think that money anxieties plague her mind, I did tell her that when the time was right we would DEFINITELY go to Disneyland, and she happily went back to sorting and counting and general merriment.

The coda to the story is that a few days later, she asked how much it would cost to go to Jumpin’ Jiminy’s. “I think it’s about … seven dollars?” I guessed. “SEVEN! I have more than seven dollars … so WE CAN GO TO JUMPIN’ JIMINY’S! HOORAY!” So now I’ll have to find some other excuse not to go there …

A related ‘real-world’ conversation we’ve been having recently is about playdates and Gwen’s constant need for stimulation. Just about every day as we are on our way home from school, she asks for one friend or another to come over and visit. I have recently begun explaining that it’s a whole lot easier for Moms and Dads and even kids, if we organize playdates for a day that isn’t a school day or work day. We went back to her trusty weekly calendar (which has largely fallen out of use now that her weekday activities are more consistent) and I showed her how two of the days begin with an S. “Those are good days for playdates,” I told her. “Those are days that Mom doesn’t go to work, and you don’t go to school, and your friends don’t go to school, so there’s lots of time for playing. On a school and work day, we only have time for a little bit of playing; mostly we do our put-away chores, we get dinner ready, we play music, and have just a bit of time for playing before dinner and getting ready for bed. It’s too rushed to have friends over. But on the days that begins with S, we have ALL DAY to do fun things! Those are good days for playdates.” She seemed to understand and take this in. Naturally, the next day when she woke up she asked me if it was an S day. This whole concept is really a lot to take in!

The put-away chores are another example of Gwen’s growing maturity. When we get home from school, she knows that it is her job to take off and put away her shoes, hat, and jacket, then take out the Tupperware from her lunch kit and put it in the dishwasher and put her lunch kit away in the pantry. I’m generally doing much the same thing with my own lunch kit and work stuff. She has taken this on very smoothly and without any fuss – in fact, she seems very happy and proud to do it. One day when I happened to put her things away because she’d gotten swept up in something else, she became very upset when she realized a few minutes later that she had been cheated out of the chance to do her chores. I think pretty soon I am going to add a couple more things to this list; for example, I’d like her to clear her own dishes after a meal, and wipe the table (and floor if needed). This might also have the bonus of encouraging her to be a less messy eater, since she will be the one dealing with the consequences! Eventually I’d also like her to start making her bed in the mornings, but mornings are already so challenging that I’m not going to add anything else to the mix just yet.

Her willingness to do chores and her interest in money have me thinking about some kind of allowance. I think five is a reasonable age to start receiving some kind of stipend. I haven’t done any formal research into this recently, but surveying my own thoughts/beliefs on the subject has led me to a few conclusions:
- I think kids need to be given money in order to learn how to handle money
- I think kids need both guidance and autonomy in how they spend their money
- I think that at least some portion of the allowance should have no connection to chores
- I think most of the chores should have no connection to money

My sister, whose kids are older than Gwen, has already tried a method or two. One idea she used made a lot of sense to me: that her older son Andrew could earn 25 cents a night setting the table for dinner, but only if he did it without being asked. Similarly, if the kids are ready for school on time without being nagged, they get some kind of reward that can then be cashed in for monetary or other rewards at the end of the week. Either way, they still have to get ready for school. But if they do it without giving their mom a lot of grief, they’re rewarded for it.

This method neatly avoids one of the pitfalls that has me a little concerned. I don’t want Gwen’s natural agreeableness and willingness to help stifled by the expectation of receiving money for the usual jobs and assistance that she needs to do in order to keep our house and family running smoothly. There is a certain level of helpfulness I expect from her just because she is a member of our family - our team - and we all work together. There are extra things that I may ask of her in the future, which may be worthy of pay. For example, when I was a teenager my father paid me $5.00 a week to wash the car or mow the lawn – larger chores that he would have had to do himself if he hadn’t had me to help. To me, that’s in a different category from tidying up after oneself, contributing to family meals, and so on.

The flip side is, whether or not she helps with her put-away chores and other jobs, I think she needs to receive a regular sum of money on a regular basis so that she can learn how to handle money. I know there are special piggy banks available that encourage kids to start the fundamentals of budgeting – allocate some money to savings, some to share (charity donations), and some for spending. I’m pretty sure Gwen is going to find one of those under the Christmas tree this year, with a note that she will be receiving a weekly allowance from then on.

What are your experiences with chores/allowance – as a child, and if applicable, a parent? What has worked or not worked in your family? What ideas have I not thought of?

Dear Gwen: Month 53

Dear Gwen,

Today you are fifty-three months old.

Your personality is becoming more and more evident and in general, that personality is fascinating.  You are energetic, happy, creative, funny, exuberant, loving, curious, and brave.  Just about every day, I get to hear you say some variation of "Mom, I have a GREAT idea."  Life with you is many things ... but it is not dull.

A few days ago we were snuggling in the big bed before starting our day, and I warned that, "At the end of this song, we will have to get up and do our morning jobs."
You asked, "How many people will have to get up and do morning jobs?"
I responded, "Three people will have to get up and do morning jobs!"
So you asked, "Will it be Mom, and Dad, and Mooey (stuffed animal)?"

Ha!  What a great example of both your sense of humour and your distaste for mornings.  I know plenty of parents whose kids get up way too early in the morning, and I have nothing but sympathy for them.  On the other hand, it's not easy at the other end of the spectrum, either: dragging an unwilling child through the routine tasks of the morning - go potty, get dressed, have breakfast, wash hands, brush hair, get shoes - when every single component of that routine is an ENORMOUS battle.  Still, if I had to choose between a child who starts her day at 5:30am and one that would, if I let her, probably sleep till 9, I think I'm going to stick with the morning dawdler.  At least I get to have the battles after getting a full night of sleep.

We have made some changes to our routines now that (pre) school has started again.  For one thing, we recently implemented the rule that you don't get to watch any TV in the mornings.  You were really getting into the habit of watching an episode of Dora or Diego or whatever else we had on DVD every morning, which caused your breakfast-ingestion process to lengthen out to about 25 minutes.  Which would be fine, if all the other steps in the morning routine were completed quickly.  But as mentioned above, THEY ARE NOT.  We don't have 25 minutes to spend on breakfast.  And then immediately when the show was finished, you would want another one, and then we would be fighting about that instead of washing-hands-brushing-hair-getting-shoes-on-getting-out-the-door.  Solution?  No TV in the mornings.  You can thank your Auntie Sara for suggesting that rule, and I have to say you have not had a lot of difficulty accepting it.

On the flip side, you are now watching TV more often after school (again, just a 30-minute episode).  You seem to come home from school pretty worn out and need that downtime to process your day and then be ready to interact with others again.  This works out pretty well as it gives me time to put away our work/school things, get dinner going, and so on.

In general, I think you are really enjoying being at school 4 days a week (as opposed to last year which was only 2 days a week).  Last year's routine was preschool on Monday, Gramma on Tuesdays, daycare on Wednesdays, preschool on Thursdays, daycare on Fridays.  A lot of shifting around from one place to another, and you did well with it, but I can absolutely feel the relief you are experiencing as a result of not having to deal with that this year.  Now you are four days at preschool and one day at Gramma's.  In addition to having more consistency, I think you are happy to build stronger friendships with your teachers and friends at school.  I know last year the teachers would mention some event that was coming up tomorrow or later in the week, and you wouldn't always be there for that event, so that led to a lot of disappointment and frustration.  Now that has almost completely been eliminated, and you are definitely more comfortable with the more consistent routine.  And just think, in less than a year you will be in kindergarten, FIVE days a week.

You've attended two piano lessons so far, and you are really enjoying them.  Your class is part of the Music for Young Children program, an internationally-acclaimed program that is taught in a group setting.  I'm a little disappointed that the classes were scheduled during my work day so I can't attend with you, but at least they happen to fall on Dad's day off so he can take you.  And after all, it's probably really good that the two of you have something special that you do together, even if I am a little jealous.  The classes at this stage are focussing on tempo (not too fast, not too slow), loud vs soft, and dinosaur dens - these are the two black keys on either side of the D key.  When Dinosaur wants to play, I'm told, he comes out of his den and plays on his patio.  In addition to actually playing the keyboard, there is lots of colouring, paper-cutting, puppet-making, and other very interactive activities to support your lessons.  I must confess that I am just starting to get into the habit of making time in our day to complete your MYC homework, but that's a typical symptom of a busy September transition, I think!

You are growing increasingly affectionate and want to be physically touching me all the time.  You often ask me, "Can I hug you forever?" to which, obviously, the answer is YES.  I can't believe how lucky I am to get so many hugs from you!

At the same time, however, you are getting very big and very strong and very, well, boney, and having you clamber all over my body is not always very pleasant.  You love to be in physical contact, but this is not a "sit still and snuggle up to Mom" type event.  It's more of a "I have a hard time telling the difference between Mom and a jungle gym" sort of thing.  I've been trying to persuade you lately that actually, all the parts of my body have feelings, and those feelings include pain when they are being stepped on, elbowed, kicked, head-butted, etc.  You are not quite buying it.

It seems that your favourite word these days is "actually".  You use this word mainly to correct the other people in your world about how they are not meeting your stringent requirements.  For example:

Gramma: Let's tidy up your toys and then have some dinner.
Gwen: Actually, I have a better idea.  Why don't I keep playing, and you go make dinner.

Mom: I made spaghetti for dinner.
Gwen: Actually, I wanted hot dogs for dinner.

Dad: It's time for your bath!
Gwen: Actually, I don't want to have a bath.

You say "actually" so often that it's kind of become a running joke between your parents and grandparents.  You say it with such authority and intention that it's hard to argue with you.  It's also hard not to find it hilarious.

Well, that's it for this month's newsletter, Gwen.  As always, I love you a million, billion, kajillion and four ... and yes, you can hug me forever.

Love,
Mama