Number Nine: Compassion.
Morgan has a very sensitive and compassionate heart.
She doesn't like to see her parents sad. She has made me many beautiful pictures (rainbows, mostly) when I've been going through difficult times.
She loves to feed and clothe her baby dolls.
She would love a pet.
When she sees a younger child, she loves to take him/her by the hand and walk with them.
When she prays at night, she prays for people she loves.
I'm so grateful for her compassion.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
SWC
Confession Time: I have a strong willed daughter.
It was bound to happen. Dan is freakishly intelligent. I am an overly-emotional artsy type. Poor thing had little left to work with in the genetic code. Her options were: Not being born or Strong Willed Child. (For all my balking, I'm glad she "chose" the latter.)
This strong will has put somewhat of a damper on our family life. And, as much as I can joke about it, the plain truth is that it is just plain difficult at times.
Cue solution: I am currently reading a very interesting book: You Can't Make Me, But I Can Be Persuaded by Cynthia Tobias.
The book lets the parent reader know that:
1. They are not alone. Many strong willed children exist.
2. Parents of the Strong Willed Child (SWC) will age more quickly than other parents; invest in wrinkle cream.
3. Parents of SWCs probably won't want to continue producing offspring
4. There is very little one can do to change the mind of a SWC.
For some reason, I spent the first years of my life judging helpless mothers as they carted screaming children through grocery stores. Then, I became a parent. More correctly, I became that parent. Now I give those parents reassuring glances in the store. Been there.
If you are wondering if you have a SWC, simply take this test:
Does traditional discipline work on your child? It won't on a SWC.
When you tell your child that they have earned a "time out", do they say, "bring it on"?
Do you have more confiscated toys in your bedroom than your child does in her bedroom?
If so, then join me, gentle reader in this journey of parenting. Pick up a book or two on the strong willed personality. I don't have the answers, but I'm willing to learn them.
According to this book, I may be raising a "born leader". (That's their way of putting a positive spin on it.) Maybe. But right now I don't care who she leads. I just care who she follows.
It was bound to happen. Dan is freakishly intelligent. I am an overly-emotional artsy type. Poor thing had little left to work with in the genetic code. Her options were: Not being born or Strong Willed Child. (For all my balking, I'm glad she "chose" the latter.)
This strong will has put somewhat of a damper on our family life. And, as much as I can joke about it, the plain truth is that it is just plain difficult at times.
Cue solution: I am currently reading a very interesting book: You Can't Make Me, But I Can Be Persuaded by Cynthia Tobias.
The book lets the parent reader know that:
1. They are not alone. Many strong willed children exist.
2. Parents of the Strong Willed Child (SWC) will age more quickly than other parents; invest in wrinkle cream.
3. Parents of SWCs probably won't want to continue producing offspring
4. There is very little one can do to change the mind of a SWC.
For some reason, I spent the first years of my life judging helpless mothers as they carted screaming children through grocery stores. Then, I became a parent. More correctly, I became that parent. Now I give those parents reassuring glances in the store. Been there.
If you are wondering if you have a SWC, simply take this test:
Does traditional discipline work on your child? It won't on a SWC.
When you tell your child that they have earned a "time out", do they say, "bring it on"?
Do you have more confiscated toys in your bedroom than your child does in her bedroom?
If so, then join me, gentle reader in this journey of parenting. Pick up a book or two on the strong willed personality. I don't have the answers, but I'm willing to learn them.
According to this book, I may be raising a "born leader". (That's their way of putting a positive spin on it.) Maybe. But right now I don't care who she leads. I just care who she follows.
Valentine's Countdown: Morgan Kay
It's that ooey-gooey time of year again. For all my readers who *gag* when I gush about Dan, then you'll be glad to know that THIS time, I will gush about Morgan. She's been a handful lately and this list will be much more for my benefit than yours, but you'll still get to know her nonetheless.
So here goes: Top Ten Reasons I Love Morgan
Number Ten: The Negotiator
Emily: "Morgan, I will give you 4 M&Ms if you can do your potty time by yourself."
Dramatic pause.
What a reasonable child would say: "Great!"
What Morgan says: "Eight. I want 8 M&Ms."
Trying not to laugh.
Emily: "Five."
Morgan: "Okay. Five."
So here goes: Top Ten Reasons I Love Morgan
Number Ten: The Negotiator
Emily: "Morgan, I will give you 4 M&Ms if you can do your potty time by yourself."
Dramatic pause.
What a reasonable child would say: "Great!"
What Morgan says: "Eight. I want 8 M&Ms."
Trying not to laugh.
Emily: "Five."
Morgan: "Okay. Five."
Monday, February 4, 2008
Morgan Stories
Morgan found a bruise on her arm. Naturally she had to make a story to go with it:
"Mom, someone beat me up the other day. Look. And then I got nipples all over me (she points to her neck) and then the doctor gave me a bruise instead."
Side note: Morgan confuses pimples with nipples. We're not sure why. And we don't talk about nipples with any frequency either, so we have no idea why she uses this word. I hope she uses it in church. That would be great. :)
_______________________________________
Morgan: "Mom, I know how they make DVDs. First they pat it. Then they squeeze it. Then they bake it in the oven. Then they let it cool and put a picture on it." (Hmmm... similar to the gingerbread man?)
Emily: "Wow, Morgan... where did you learn that?"
Morgan: "My uncles."
Morgan attributes almost all her knowledge to her preschool or her uncles.
_______________________________________
Morgan is getting a cold. She describes her symptoms this way:
"Mom, I have a 'edache'. It's not a 'headache' like Daddy gets. I get 'edaches' but Daddy gets 'headaches'. My uncles get 'wedaches'. It makes my head feel funny."
"Mom, someone beat me up the other day. Look. And then I got nipples all over me (she points to her neck) and then the doctor gave me a bruise instead."
Side note: Morgan confuses pimples with nipples. We're not sure why. And we don't talk about nipples with any frequency either, so we have no idea why she uses this word. I hope she uses it in church. That would be great. :)
_______________________________________
Morgan: "Mom, I know how they make DVDs. First they pat it. Then they squeeze it. Then they bake it in the oven. Then they let it cool and put a picture on it." (Hmmm... similar to the gingerbread man?)
Emily: "Wow, Morgan... where did you learn that?"
Morgan: "My uncles."
Morgan attributes almost all her knowledge to her preschool or her uncles.
_______________________________________
Morgan is getting a cold. She describes her symptoms this way:
"Mom, I have a 'edache'. It's not a 'headache' like Daddy gets. I get 'edaches' but Daddy gets 'headaches'. My uncles get 'wedaches'. It makes my head feel funny."
Friday, February 1, 2008
Babushka Babe
I know I should play along with my daughter, but I simply can't take her seriously in this getup. She looks like a dilapidated babushka. Plus, she keeps wearing our address labels on her chest, as if she were brought to us via mail.
Snow Day
If you're in Illinois, you know that school is closed today. I found this out online.
The also broadcast it on radio, TV and by Harry Potter's owl, Hedwig. It was pretty darn impossible to say, "By jove! I had no idea there was a chance that school would be cancelled today. No idea whatsoever."
Nevertheless,.. I'm one smart Sherlock. School is closed.
When I was a kid, I sat as close to the radio as possible on snow day mornings (remember the turn dial "radio"?), waiting to hear, "Montgomery County schools closed". Happy dances would ensue.
We'd eat fresh snow with syrup drizzled on top. (This was before the acid rain scare.)
We'd make scoliosis-bound snowmen.
And we'd have those awful knit mittens that had a long yarn (about a yard long) attached between them so that you wouldn't lose your mittens. (If you have no idea what this is, put on a jacket and then pull some barbed wire through both arms and behind your back.) I didn't feel too uncomfortable unless you really pulled forward and could feel the yarn tug.
But we didn't care. It was a snow day, confound it, and we were going to have some cold, wet fun.
Today, when I hear "snow day", I know that Morgan won't be going to preschool. I'm not groaning, but I'm not doing the happy dance either. I'm a *gulp* parent.
This also means: First, acid rain, schmacid rain. Eat the syrup snow, kiddo.
Next, snowmen are still cool. Snow on my hardwood floors is not.
Thirdly, they don't even MAKE those mittens with the ouchy attachment anymore. However, I would be in favor of anything that would 1) keep mittens on my daughter and 2) have her suffer similarly. Builds character.
In short, it's a snow day. I predict wet hardwoods, pink cheeks and hot cocoa.
The also broadcast it on radio, TV and by Harry Potter's owl, Hedwig. It was pretty darn impossible to say, "By jove! I had no idea there was a chance that school would be cancelled today. No idea whatsoever."
Nevertheless,.. I'm one smart Sherlock. School is closed.
When I was a kid, I sat as close to the radio as possible on snow day mornings (remember the turn dial "radio"?), waiting to hear, "Montgomery County schools closed". Happy dances would ensue.
We'd eat fresh snow with syrup drizzled on top. (This was before the acid rain scare.)
We'd make scoliosis-bound snowmen.
And we'd have those awful knit mittens that had a long yarn (about a yard long) attached between them so that you wouldn't lose your mittens. (If you have no idea what this is, put on a jacket and then pull some barbed wire through both arms and behind your back.) I didn't feel too uncomfortable unless you really pulled forward and could feel the yarn tug.
But we didn't care. It was a snow day, confound it, and we were going to have some cold, wet fun.
Today, when I hear "snow day", I know that Morgan won't be going to preschool. I'm not groaning, but I'm not doing the happy dance either. I'm a *gulp* parent.
This also means: First, acid rain, schmacid rain. Eat the syrup snow, kiddo.
Next, snowmen are still cool. Snow on my hardwood floors is not.
Thirdly, they don't even MAKE those mittens with the ouchy attachment anymore. However, I would be in favor of anything that would 1) keep mittens on my daughter and 2) have her suffer similarly. Builds character.
In short, it's a snow day. I predict wet hardwoods, pink cheeks and hot cocoa.
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