Wahgle
Ess doesn’t have her T sounds yet, so when she says “pink water bottle” it comes out “pink wahgle boggle.” She loves that water bottle, so we get to hear this a lot.
Ess doesn’t have her T sounds yet, so when she says “pink water bottle” it comes out “pink wahgle boggle.” She loves that water bottle, so we get to hear this a lot.
They’re re-roofing the house today. Ess was transfixed by the trucks coming and going and cranes lifting. She stood at the window and watched, the stillest I’ve seen her be while awake and healthy. “Beep beep” went the truck, “bach-up, bach-up” went Ess, shuffling backwards away from the window.
Mother’s Day: today, the last thing Ess did before we took her upstairs for bed was carefully remove each Winnie the Pooh character from her wooden puzzle and tuck them in under the couch pillow. Pooh, Piglet, Kanga, Roo, Tigger, Rabbit, Owl.
“Mahn-ee Dada. Mahn-ee!” Ess says as she grabs my finger and pulls. That’s how she says “come on over here.” How could you say no?
A Tall Tree’s Tale; the beginning and end of Encino California’s 1,000 year-old oak.
Heartsick, I myself took nothing more than a single, small leaf that I still have. It was enough.
“Crouching Tigga, Hidden Deek: A Memoir of My First Two Years of Life”
by Esmé Micek
Breakfast at Oasis Café this morning, the first time we have ever been there, and what looks like the beginning of a fine tradition. I’m always so proud when Ess colors with her crayons, eats our food, and enjoys herself when we eat out. I look ahead to summer vacations and little weekend jaunts during the school year with great excitement. I love to get a glimpse of the world through her eyes, to see the world again through that lens.
Out of nowhere, Essie says two word sentences to us. This helps us meet her needs and wants, until she runs out of the correct words. Then we’re back to sign language and grunts. We’re also seeing the advent of frustration, whose development I find interesting yet a little sad. This little girl who before would sit and try to do something over and over, showing perseverance but no frustration, will now get immensely frustrated over her inability to do something, typically something physically intricate.
The upside to this is that we get to begin our role as teachers. We get to try to help Ess become a person who responds with patience to frustration, empathy to pain, courage to peril. As I read about the television show “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”, I find that betterment is the core message. That there is a person in you with intrinsic worth, who has all kinds of feelings and needs, and your truest self comes out when commit to the most human, least animalistic actions: compassion, generosity, patience, kindness. A real mensch.
Not too long ago, while Mykala was driving us to Ikea, I was watching spring out the window of the car. For the first time, while admiring the buds, I caught myself thinking about the autumn coming later this year. Caught me off-guard, and I felt old. A poem seemed appropriate. So, more bad poetry, a blessedly rare occurrence here:
Afresh, buds become leaves
Unfurling
A cycle now, I see
Annulus
Ripening green mirrors
Autumn’s fade
We all had the stomach flu for the entire long weekend. I didn’t get healthy as fast as I expected, and the lingering aches made my health feel mutable in a way it never has.
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