This week's pick is both funny and true: Olivia is, apparently, a fan of The Ting Tings. Or, at least, she's a fan of that catchy little post-punk tune of theirs, "That's Not My Name."
Whenever this track comes on the radio and we're in the car she says "louder, Mama!" So, I turn it up a bit. Then, she proceeds to rock out in her cow-print Britax car seat, blonde locks flipping in my rear view mirror.
She even sings along, though she mainly sticks to the chorus: "That's not my name, that's not my name." Then, she cracks herself up laughing, and starts singing again. "That's not my name!"
I'm not sure how long our musical tastes will remain in sync, so I'll enjoy this immensely, while it lasts.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Olivia's Pick--8 February 2009
"I'm going to do some writing, Mama." Olivia said this to me a few days ago, as she picked up notebook and pen and headed to the kitchen table.
"Oh really?" I asked. "What are you writing?"
"Well," she mused, opening her notebook and carefully uncapping her pen, "I'm writing a poem."
"That's wonderful," I said. "I love poetry, don't you? Are you a poet?"
"No," she said. "Actually, I'm Olivia."
This week is a prolific one for Olivia, the writer and the logician.
For some enviable inspiration on how to encourage your young writer, check out The Write Start.
"Oh really?" I asked. "What are you writing?"
"Well," she mused, opening her notebook and carefully uncapping her pen, "I'm writing a poem."
"That's wonderful," I said. "I love poetry, don't you? Are you a poet?"
"No," she said. "Actually, I'm Olivia."
This week is a prolific one for Olivia, the writer and the logician.
For some enviable inspiration on how to encourage your young writer, check out The Write Start.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Olivia's Pick--1 February 2009
Blueberry pancakes. Oatmeal raisin cookies. Bundt cakes. Muffins. This week, Olivia has proudly taken on the mantle of Assistant Baker in this Mama's kitchen. Whatever I'm cooking up, she wants in. And the messier, the better.
Of course, I'm careful to steer her away from the hot stove or oven. But, as we've both discovered, there's much for her to do in an active kitchen. She stirs. She cradles smooth, rosy eggs in her tiny, perfect hands. She adds sugar and flour. She stirs some more. Perched on a chair, she helps me rinse blueberries. Sprinkled with flour, we explore texture, mixture, temperature. Her perfect curiosity is a delight to entertain--and encourage. And her sense of accomplishment, when we share a cookie she helped bake is simply beyond compare.
Every minute in her 2 1/2-year-old life is a learning experience. What a privilege, to bear witness.
Of course, I'm careful to steer her away from the hot stove or oven. But, as we've both discovered, there's much for her to do in an active kitchen. She stirs. She cradles smooth, rosy eggs in her tiny, perfect hands. She adds sugar and flour. She stirs some more. Perched on a chair, she helps me rinse blueberries. Sprinkled with flour, we explore texture, mixture, temperature. Her perfect curiosity is a delight to entertain--and encourage. And her sense of accomplishment, when we share a cookie she helped bake is simply beyond compare.
Every minute in her 2 1/2-year-old life is a learning experience. What a privilege, to bear witness.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Olivia's Pick--25 January 2009
This weeks's pick is much to this Mama's dismay. My 2 1/2 -year-old, potty-trained little angel has a new and troubling affinity: The pacifier.
Now, I've been told by other Mama's that this phase of regression is normal, and passing. I've been told that it was brought on by the birth of so many sweet babies into families we're close to--none of these babies sweeter than my little tough guy nephew. Seriously, you should see his cheeks.
But I've got to tell you, this new "I'm a baby" phase, complete with wanting a pacifier she never used in the first place, well, it kind of freaks me out.
At present, I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it. We don't have any pacifiers in the house, other than those attached by ribbons to her baby dolls. And I've been encouraging her desire to pretend and play, including indulging her when she asks me to "hold her like a baby," which involves me cradling all 37 inches of her in my arms.
But the pacifier? Really?
I'm hoping that, as other Mamas have predicted, this too shall pass.
I'll let you know.
Now, I've been told by other Mama's that this phase of regression is normal, and passing. I've been told that it was brought on by the birth of so many sweet babies into families we're close to--none of these babies sweeter than my little tough guy nephew. Seriously, you should see his cheeks.
But I've got to tell you, this new "I'm a baby" phase, complete with wanting a pacifier she never used in the first place, well, it kind of freaks me out.
At present, I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it. We don't have any pacifiers in the house, other than those attached by ribbons to her baby dolls. And I've been encouraging her desire to pretend and play, including indulging her when she asks me to "hold her like a baby," which involves me cradling all 37 inches of her in my arms.
But the pacifier? Really?
I'm hoping that, as other Mamas have predicted, this too shall pass.
I'll let you know.
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