Squidbits

The postponed birthday party, as the cakespam might have suggested, was delightful; toddlers stuffed full of cake running about and shrieking and making messes, as it should be. Man, when you are two? You get a lot of loot! We said no presents necessary, but people like to buy things for toddlers; they're a very appreciative audience. We spaced the unwrapping out over the whole month to avoid present burnout (those of you who have ever seen a tired child wailing on Christmas in the middle of a sea of wrapping paper and toys know what I mean) and just opened the last thing (a toy tape measure from my aunt K) last night. I was, on the whole, very pleased with the gifts people chose for Squid. He did, yes, get a plastic monstrosity or two. But mostly he got play food, nice clothing, water toys for summer, and books. He also got a doll stroller and a shopping cart, and some fake flowers, so the truck-and-train-heavy trend in his toys got some balance. I was thrilled to see the doll stroller - I'd meant to buy him one and hadn't managed to find one in time - and when he opened it up, I said, "Awesome!"

"Awesome," said the Squid, trundling it around with his stuffed cow strapped in. "Awesome!"

There were also some incredibly thoughtful handmade gifts. Himself spent weeks in the woodshop after the Squid's bedtimes making him a little table and chairs to serve as a play desk, and he loves to sit and color there. And my friend H, who reads this blog from all the way over in Japan, sent an adorable kid's book about a broad bean and his bed...with a typed translation she did herself tucked inside! Usually I just make up stories for his books that are not in languages I know, but it was great to be able to tell him what was actually going on. Thanks, H! I am a terrible gift giver when it comes to young children (I barely remember my friends' birthdays, let alone the birthdays of their progeny, much less manage to purchase and send gifts, and I am always at a loss for what makes an appropriate present) and so I am all the more overwhelmed and amazed by the care and thought that people put into finding gifts for the Squid.



Not only does the Squid now say "awesome," he also says, "cool." It is kind of terrifying hearing my own speech parroted back at me and realizing how much I sound like a middle-aged version of Bill and Ted. Note to self: Cease calling the Squid "dude" stat, because just, no. I caught a bit of a cough from him earlier this month (I never got sick before I had a kid! Never!) and I said to him, "I'm getting your cold and it sucks."

"Suck!" chirped the Squid.

Boy, did I ever get fisheye from Himself on that one. His ongoing campaign to get me to clean up my language is, well, ongoing. My friend I suggests that I start using old-fashioned swear words, because a toddler that yells "Goldangit!" and "Consarnit!" would be really cute. Which, true, but I'm not sure I can bring myself to adopt them as alternatives. I'm going to have to figure something out soon, though, because he is a repeating machine. He can say anything of two syllables or less, and makes valiant stabs at longer words. He's also started to put together constructions on his own - adding articles ("the moon!" "a box!") and adjectives and verbs ("more rice!" "see plane!" "smell stinky!"). He referred to a picture of himself one day as "baby" and then, on my prompting, "Baby [Squid]," and then turned to me and said "That's me!" He's differentiated generic names (kid, baby, dog) from individual designations (Sadie, Anne, Grammy). Himself said to me after hearing him shout, "No! GO 'WAY SADIE!" at the spaniel, "Do we really yell at the dogs that much?" Even worse is hearing him yell for one of us the way we yell for each other - the high volume shouting of the proper name, often with an exasperated overtone.

But I actually don't think that we yell at the dogs (or at each other) that much. I monitored my interactions with the dogs a lot more after Himself asked me that, and there's a lot more sweet talking and gentle commands than yelling. And of course, yelling is a small minority of my interactions with Himself. But Squid is two and part of being two is attempting to take control of your world by any means available. So of course he's homed in on the imperative stuff. Still, if his language acquisition is a mirror held up to my own behavior, I'm not sure I like what I'm hearing. Himself was giving me shit about something at the breakfast table this morning, just his usual razzing, and I pointed at him mid-sentence and said in my "bad dog, no biscuit" voice, "No. No. No."

"No! No! No!" shrieked the Squid gleefully, jabbing his finger at his daddy. "No!"



Thank God for his daycare provider, A, who is teaching him to be polite. He comes home knowing how to say "thank you" and "welcome" and "bless you" and "excuse me." Even more adorably, he went through a two-week period where his automatic verbal response to anything bumping or falling down (himself, us, toys, food) was "Sowwy, you okay?" I'm not sure if this is a repeater line that he doesn't understand the meaning of, or whether this is part of his development of a theory of mind - he knows enough to ask after the experiences of other people/things, but not quite enough to distinguish them from one another or from his own experience of the event - "Sowwy, you okay?" is what he says when the world goes in a way he didn't intend, and I think it has more to do with his own perception of the unintended nature of whatever it is than with any real concept of the potential pain or discomfort of others. Having a kid is like getting all these early childhood development lessons delivered to your door in full color and surround sound! I only wish that I'd spent more time in school actually studying early brain and social development; my work doesn't deal with young kids very much, or it hasn't, and so it's not an area I know much about. The Squid makes me want to know more, because there are clearly Interesting Things going on that I don't know enough to parse or guide.

With my promotion at work (did I mention that came through? That came through! My bosses are awesome) I have been suddenly put on fast-forward. They hired an admin, which let me delegate all the boring crap on my plate, and I got new tasks that are interesting, and challenging, and am having fun and learning a lot - and also traveling more. Himself has been great about taking the Squid when I need to be gone for work - he says "it's only fair," which is true, but I still appreciate it - solo parenting isn't easy. Weekends are suddenly packed with Things To Do, workdays ditto, and I end up bringing home articles to read that I didn't have time to get to during the day. It's exhausting and a little exhilarating, and it's pretty much exactly where I wanted to be. I've applied for another (similar) position in another division that would be more career track in terms of my interests and background, but I'm not unhappy where I am at all, either. Win-win! I haven't yet figured out how to exercise and work a nine-hour day and sleep a nine-hour night and see the Squid as much as I want to, though, so if anyone has any tips on that, I'd appreciate them - I have wonky knees and insomnia, so high-impact activity and exercising right before bed are out for the moment - I'm managing to do my stretches more often, so maybe someday soon I can run again, but right now I'm at a loss for how to fit (regular! daily!) exercise into my life. Ain't nobody perfect.

Um, right. Perhaps I should separate out my updates on my child from my updates on myself. But seriously, I would hate to bore everyone, and I have become a deeply boring person. I have my work. I have my family. I have an hour and a half or so to myself every day, which I usually use to surf the internet because I am exhausted. And that's my life. Sometimes I go out on the weekends? I learned to cook some new dishes recently? I could tell you about the sewing project I have planned that has been sitting on the counter for three weeks, unpinned? Want to hear about my growing love for electropunk and french hip-hop? No, I thought not. See? Bo-ring. So I sneak it into the posts about the Squid so I can distract you with the pretty pictures of his awesomeness.



Himself took him to the zoo this weekend with some friends, and he really dug the monkeys, but honestly, taking him places at this point is still more for us (and the older children of the people we hang out with). He makes his own entertainment in the world, and it's not always what you'd expect: at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art a few months ago, his favorite parts were the swinging fan in the lobby...and the elevators. We go to the park and his favorite part is the sand and looking at planes that fly by. I've never been so glad that we live in the flight path of two major airports - he can spend literally hours on a clear day pointing at the sky, saying, "A pwane, a pwane! Bye bye pwane! More pwane!" and variations thereon. A., his daycare provider, says that they spend hours every day standing on the front porch saying, "Hi car! Hi truck!" and waving. At least he's easily entertained, as far as the outdoors goes. Once he can reach the pedals on his tricycle (his little legs are still a bit too short) he will be the terror of the neighborhood. That should happen just in time for summer, and a good thing, too; he's very tired of the indoors. He tries to ride his trike inside and push his stroller, but he gets stuck, and then he just pushes and grunts and repeats, "Stuck! Stuck!" until someone comes and rescues him. He hasn't quite figured out how to back up and try a different way yet, though we're working on it. I know adults who still haven't mastered that one, metaphorically, at least, but I feel sure it will come to him eventually.

I feel that I should have some wonderful culminating story to wrap up the month's Squid post, but I got nothin'. Oh, here is a picture of him singing - he sings a lot, and it often involves just one note that is so drawn-out and emphasized that his whole body trembles. Here is a picture of his Easter song, about the joys of throwing plastic grass all over the floor and finding candy in eggs: