Kids like to learn about their world. That's a given. Most of what you would say to a child has pieces of information sprinkled throughout. Don't jump down flights of stairs because you may tumble and break a bone. Have some veggies -- your tummy will love them and your body will grow. That sign says stop. That means you have to stop and make sure nothing's coming down the road. Oh, it's endless. You're coaching, explaining, even pontificating when you're feeling high and mighty.
Yet it strikes me that whereas a child does want to know how things work, Primrose, at 18 months, wants to know everything in the fullest detail possible. She wants to try out words for everything. She tests what's safe, what's permissible. She listens raptly to descriptions. She is insatiable! Old enough now to know that big people hold key pieces of information, she tugs at you to open up and share. Playing with her these days is like engaging in one long and never ending conversation.
Here, I'm munching on a mini breakfast with her and explaining the intricacies of a pb and j sandwich. If I went so far as to explain how many tablespoons of sugar are needed for all the berries in strawberry jam, she'd thank me for the information (in her own way. Or with the word itself: Primrose says a very sweet "thank you" when reminded to show gratitude).
(Peanut butter and jelly are one sticky combo. Hand wash needed afterwards.)
("Mom, can I have a little of what you're having?")
I always end my visit with a brunch outing. It's so very perfect. It's so Chicago and so special, because at home, alone with Ed, brunch seems like something we should not do. It's a frivolity for our rather frugal if not austere habits. But here, in the windy city, I want everything with the young family to be exceptionally good. I cannot see them as often as I would like and so when I do see them, I want everything to shine!
(Dressed and ready to go)
(The happy threesome!)
Today we go to the Lonesome Rose, a wonderful Mexican place just north of where they live.
("Can I take off my sweater?")
I could sit at the table and watch them for a long long time, listening to the sound of voices I know and love so much. But, a good visits always should end before you really want it to. I play "I'm an elephant" "I'm a butterfly" and a new one today that makes Primrose giggle as she puckers her mouth -- "I'm a fish" -- one last time, then hand her over to her wonderful parents and make my way up to the L platform to begin my trip home.
It's raining in Madison (because what we really need is rain, right?!). I hear that Snowdrop is quite sick. The cats are very slowly learning about the sheep shed. Ed has chopped down a tree.
I am home once more.
Yet it strikes me that whereas a child does want to know how things work, Primrose, at 18 months, wants to know everything in the fullest detail possible. She wants to try out words for everything. She tests what's safe, what's permissible. She listens raptly to descriptions. She is insatiable! Old enough now to know that big people hold key pieces of information, she tugs at you to open up and share. Playing with her these days is like engaging in one long and never ending conversation.
Here, I'm munching on a mini breakfast with her and explaining the intricacies of a pb and j sandwich. If I went so far as to explain how many tablespoons of sugar are needed for all the berries in strawberry jam, she'd thank me for the information (in her own way. Or with the word itself: Primrose says a very sweet "thank you" when reminded to show gratitude).
(Peanut butter and jelly are one sticky combo. Hand wash needed afterwards.)
("Mom, can I have a little of what you're having?")
I always end my visit with a brunch outing. It's so very perfect. It's so Chicago and so special, because at home, alone with Ed, brunch seems like something we should not do. It's a frivolity for our rather frugal if not austere habits. But here, in the windy city, I want everything with the young family to be exceptionally good. I cannot see them as often as I would like and so when I do see them, I want everything to shine!
(Dressed and ready to go)
(The happy threesome!)
Today we go to the Lonesome Rose, a wonderful Mexican place just north of where they live.
("Can I take off my sweater?")
I could sit at the table and watch them for a long long time, listening to the sound of voices I know and love so much. But, a good visits always should end before you really want it to. I play "I'm an elephant" "I'm a butterfly" and a new one today that makes Primrose giggle as she puckers her mouth -- "I'm a fish" -- one last time, then hand her over to her wonderful parents and make my way up to the L platform to begin my trip home.
It's raining in Madison (because what we really need is rain, right?!). I hear that Snowdrop is quite sick. The cats are very slowly learning about the sheep shed. Ed has chopped down a tree.
I am home once more.
