The Building Zone

Friendly Murals are located at child-level

We took a field trip to the National Building Museum with some of Ian's buds. Obviously the main attraction was how much fun Ian had and how much he learned while doing it.  If you are a resident or visitor to our fine city, you should absolutely take your family to the Building Museum.  If the line for the Building Zone is long, borrow one of the Family Tool Kits and wait it out- it's worth it!  Family Tool Kits are available for a mere $5 checkout fee to non-members.  If your kid has given up naps like mine, consider timing your visit to the Building Zone around noon, when the line usually clears.

We didn't have time to explore the entire museum, but the parts we did see suggest that hands on activities are available everywhere you go.  The miniature building bricks in the Cityscapes exhibit were a nice surprise, and our gang of two and three year olds enjoyed their visit to this gallery.

Checkerboards define areas of play

Okay, so now that the totally unsolicited ad for the National Building Museum is over, let me tell you why I loved our visit.  Other than how much fun my kid had and how beautiful the building is, of course.  I obviously spend a lot of time thinking about ideal play environments, being as how I spend a great deal of time with my son.  I know there are those who will tell you that they think being a SAHM is fatal to the intellect, but I find that I just direct my creativity and problem solving into other areas.

I know it's ridiculous to research and calculate how much profit Mrs. O'Brien is making on her cookies until you think about what Ian might be learning from it.  Okay, yes, first of all he's figured out that Mommy is prone to bizarre enthusiasms that come and live in her head for a while and won't go away until you indulge them, but also he sees that it's okay to indulge your curiosity even if it seems a little silly.  And that you might find out something interesting as a result. But I digress.  Other than questioning the motives of fictional old ladies and trying to memorize every smile, giggle, and milestone, my brain does find ways to occupy itself.  As I said, with enthusiasms that come and live there.  Which brings us to play environments.  (Yes, I know we're getting here the long way around.)

Sturdy benches are seats or tables

When you visit the Building Zone, you'll notice first that the color is an incredibly friendly sky blue.  Attractive, friendly reminders are painted on the walls, like "Please Tidy Up."  And there are these beautiful murals that are simple in design but filled with vibrant, complex color.  And they are executed in a scale and location that puts them at the kids' eye level.  The abundance of natural light adds to the feeling of serenity.  High ceilings help keep the noise level down.  The max occupancy is 40 people, which is a lot for a single room, but it feels very spacious.

The designers took advantage of the practical, environmentally friendly carpet tile often used in public spaces to create a feeling of separate play spaces.  They added a couple of checkerboard areas, and, just peeping out under the playhouse, a square of grass-green carpet.  If you observe how the kids play in the room, you'll notice that they seem to follow these nearly subliminal indicators.  The "Block Stop" Legos, for instance, don't seem to wander around the room, but stay together.

Closing the Window

Next, notice that although there are a few large, fabulous items, the space is also filled with the same kinds of toys all kids have at home.  There's a book corner, a dollhouse, some puzzles, dress-up clothes, blocks, and toy trucks.    But the furnishings set this play area apart.  The room is almost exclusively furnished with benches that are the perfect height either for adults to sit on, or for small children to use as a play surface.  They are built of plywood and can be rearranged to suit the pattern of play.

I completely plan to apply some of my observations to the play areas available in my home.  Whether you plan to analyze the play dynamics or just want to watch the grin on your kid's face when he opens and closes the windows on the play house, be sure to put this one on your "to do" list!

Read more about our visit on the Building Blocks Blog.

Jurassic Dollhouse

The new doll house was a fabulous find, but the first thing Ian said to me after we set it up was, "Where's the family?"  That's right, it came with all the furniture, but no dolls.

I told him his Little People would be happy to play in it, and left it at that.  I knew he'd find some inhabitants for it soon enough, and I was right.

My favorite was when they took the doors off and pretended to use them as saws. It was quite an extensive remodeling project.

I'm fightin' fires!

On our way out for the day. 

The Big Boy Bed, Part Deux

Ian's first night in the big boy bed lasted sixty seconds before he walked out of his room.  After he went back, he was in there for 13 actual seconds (I timed him) before the door opened again.  I really don't think he actually got back into bed at all.  I think he just went in there and came back out.  Mommy informed him that no, nobody actually needs to go potty more than once a minute and sent him back to bed.  An hour and a half later it was apparent that he was actually asleep.

An inspection the next morning revealed half the contents of his bookcase in the bed or on the floor nearby.  I can live with that.  He is still super excited about his big boy bed, but tonight there was some fussing about not wanting to go to bed.  I told him to go get a book but not to let Mommy know he was out of bed.  He said, "Okay, Mommy!"

Door's still shut.  I win.

Big Boy Bed

Oh yes, I can get out, Mommy!

I need all of my animals!

Hi Mommy!

Caught!

We took the drop side off of Ian's crib today, because now that he's potty independent he needs to be able to get out so he can "go."  He was so, so excited about the idea of getting a "big boy bed," that I thought this would be the ideal way to try it out without scaring the bejeezus out of Mommy.  After all, we could always put it back, right?  Not to mention, this crib is one of several million that have been recalled because the drop side was unsafe.

So I popped it right off- it actually disturbed me a bit how easy it was- and took off the protruding metal track from the bottom.  Ian said he wanted me to take off the plastic track from the top, but I said no, I wanted to leave it for a while.

Well, apparently I did not secure the screwdriver, because I heard a suspicious noise a short time later.  When I went to investigate, I found him in the act of removing the last of the six screws holding the plastic tracks onto the crib.  He even stacked the removed hardware tidily on the dresser, just the way Raba would have done it.

I guess we're committed to this whole "big boy bed" thing.

My stupidest post ever.

Yes, I really think this is kind of stupid, but if I have to have this thing bookmarked on my 'puter and watch it several times a day, I'm going to make a note of it.  Of course, it might also help your kid, in which case it's suddenly not so stupid, huh?

Ian saw this commercial and has a perfect potty record ever since.  I'd be less excited, except the day he saw this started with him walking up to me and peeing on my foot.  Half an hour after he'd last used the toilet.  I wish I were kidding.  I realize he may have been coming to tell me he had to go potty, but it was still not the finest moment of my life.  Then he saw the ad and, apparently, had an epiphany.  By "perfect" I mean that I have not reminded him, he has not had any accidents, and he is handling the transaction completely on his own.  Apparently, he just needed to see it in action for the pieces to fall into place.

So the new rule in our house is that screen time is strictly limited EXCEPT for this ad, which Ian may watch on demand, up to three times in a row.  As often as he asks.  Because potty training, like few other things in life, is a time when you throw the proverbial book.  If there is anything you can say, sing, buy, or watch that will make your child "get" it, then THAT is what you do.  So, bring it on, Huggies.  We love your new commercial.

Ian's Personal Art Gallery

Small children actually enjoy fine art, and of course there are a bevy of experts telling you that you "should" expose them to it for their "development."  The dryness of that advice aside, we do like to give Ian the opportunity to see and experience fine art without having to practice his "museum manners" at the same time.

Daddy's idea of how to do this is a good one- when fine art calendars go on sale (usually in January or February) he buys a couple for peanuts, then uses spray adhesive and foam core board to create an art gallery in our hallway that is just at Ian's eye level.

This latest time Ian helped. Not only was he involved in the construction of the posters, Daddy said, "show me where to hang this," and Ian picked the height himself.  Then the judicious application of a level and adhesive velcro tape finished it off.

Mommy's approach to this is to laminate 5x7 art cards and put them in thrift store frames.  Here's an example from the "dress up" area:

Conversations with Ian

Ian: Mommy, I want to do my letters. How about H.
Mommy: (sounding out the letter) H... H... Hat. H... H... Hot. What else has "h?"
Ian: Cough.
Mommy: Uh... well, yes, that's true...

During a storm at midnight...
Ian: Mommy, that was Rama and Raba Thunder. There's Daddy Thunder.
(a particularly loud thunderclap.)
Mommy: Oooh, who was that one?
Ian: That's Aisling thunder. (shouts) Hi Aisling!
(another thunderclap)
Mommy: And who's that one?
Ian: That was Aisling talking back to Ian. (pats his belly) She is saying hi to ME!

Yeah, that's right...

I've got my own sense of style. And yes, in case you were wondering, my boots ARE on the wrong feet.

More debunking the children's literature

So I was able to find 1969 retail prices for most of the basic food items you'd use to make cookies here.  Someone more enterprising than I could probably figure out the utility cost of baking a dozen cookies using the other data provided. Although there were some gaps in the data, I came up with this:

1969 Price	Ingredient
0.06	3 cups flour
0.06	1 cup granulated sugar
	1 1/2 tsp baking powder
	1/2 tsp salt
0.42	1 cup soft butter
0.05	1 egg, slightly beaten
0.01	3 tbsp cream
	1 tsp vanilla
0.49	Cost for 24 Cookies

Which, of course, means that the ingredient cost alone would exceed two cents per cookie on the plain sugar cookies, let alone the Peanut Butter and Chocolate Cookies we are also informed she counts among her wares.  So we have now thoroughly established that Mrs. O'Brien, while charming, was obviously not in it for the money.

Perfect day for a run through the sprinkler

Ian, I'm sorry you have such a geek for a mom.

We are lucky enough, because Rama is awesome, to have my copy of The Tiny Little House from when I was a small child.  Ian loves it.  We read it three or four times a day.  As a result, I'm probably overthinking this passage:

Alice took some paper and made a sign.

Cookies for sale very good ones

She put the sign in the window.  Then she spread the cookies out on the tablecloth.

Soon some people came.  First there were two boys with a wagon, and then a girl who was minding her little brother.

"Where are the cookies?" they asked.

"Right here, two cents each," said Alice.  Then she turned to Mrs. O'Brien.  "Is that right?"

And of course, dear Mrs. O'Brien tells the sweet little girl that two cents will be just fine.

But, by my calculations, assuming her supplies cost her nothing and she did not pay for the utilites to bake these cookies (HAH!), Mrs. O'Brien would have had to sell 963 cookies a day to make the median income for a single woman over 65 in 1969, which was $7,025/year.

Also, she was baking these in a home oven. Even if you assume she could bake two sheets at once (doubtful), at the average cookie baking time of 10 minutes per sheet, this would be 6.666 hours of baking time, leaving her approximately 9.33 waking hours daily in which to sell 80 dozen cookies, all without the power of the internet.

I hope she had another source of income.  Also, I wonder what kind of mother is busy thinking about these things while reading to her angelic child.

Taking Big Boy Pants to a Whole New Level

Serenity? What?

A day of potty training should absolutely open with the Serenity Prayer.  But first you have to remind yourself that there are going to be darn few things you CAN change about today.  Just surrender to your higher power because you are NOT in charge.

Let me add, before I go any farther, that I am not one of those moms who posts photos of the contents of her kid's potty on her Facebook page like she thinks anyone cares.  I know nobody is interested.  Heck, I'm not interested.  All I'm interested in is never buying another doggone diaper.

 

But there is no denying that "potty training"- a term which has fallen out of favor in some circles, but which we prefer because our kid thinks there is a literal Potty Train and that he'll get to see it if he uses the potty ("Where's the Potty Train, Mommy?")- says something powerful and true about the human condition.

Chasing my kid's naked bum around with a Frog Potty is ludicrous, but also symbolic of all the other times I'll hover in preparation for letting go.

Ironically, after months of hearing Ian scream that he wanted his underpants with his "diaper first" prompted weeks of joking that we should just tell Ian there were no more diapers, I arrived at Target to discover that there truly were no more size six "kohl-kohl diapers."  You wouldn't think that anyone's world would come screeching to a halt just because Target was out of generic diapers in size 6, but since Ian has for months steadfastly refused to contemplate anything other than those blue and green polka dots, and also since he was actually wearing the last one we owned, this was an issue. (Mind you, we were not out of diapers altogether, since we still had a good half pack of assorted Pampers and Huggies he refused to wear once he'd met the Polka Dot.  Mickey, Minnie, Elmo, and Big Bird had languished unappreciated ever since. Go figure.)

After staring stupidly at the diaper display for several minutes while the rest of our grocery shopping trip slowly approached warmer than room temperature in the trunk of the car, I decided that on this, the Sunday following the third anniversary of Ian's birth, there was nothing for it but to just take the plunge.

Up the escalator I went and acquired a dozen "big boy undies" in Thomas & Friends and Toy Story variety and then out to the car I went, where I was greeted with, "Mommy, you gots my 'kohl kohl' diapers?" which gave me the opportunity to reply, "No, honey, they didn't have any more, you are just going to have to wear these big boy undies."

And in the morning we started "potty training" in earnest.  Not once that entire day did Ian actually go to the bathroom on the potty.  He sat on it.  He peed on the ground.  He peed on the floor.  He peed on himself, the furniture, and his bath, but not once did he actually hit the potty.  Which is when I felt the need for 1) a stiff drink (of Diet Coke, my personal poison of choice) and 2) intervention from my higher power.

Thankfully, moments when you are sure your child will never "get it" are followed by times like the one we had last night when Ian declared that he is a big boy and will not be wearing "baby diapers" any more.  Also, for our information, he pronounced that Frogs Do Not Wear Diapers.

The fact that he ultimately decided to wear a diaper to bed is irrelevant.  The mere fact that he understands that diapers are a temporary condition gives us the strength to persevere. 

That, and the fact that eight days into this project we finally started to hear more "Help, help, I need the potty!" than "Oh no, Mommy, I all wet!"

Looking for a kick start?  Check out "Potty" by Groovy Nate.

So long, Foofy

Rom, you were a good bud. Thanks for everything.

Now it's time to say good night
Good night Sleep tight
Now the sun turns out his light
Good night Sleep tight
Dream sweet dreams for me
Dream sweet dreams for you.

-The Beatles