Enough cheeky satire. All is basically well in these parts. Like most folks on the planet, the kids have weathered a lot of transitions lately -- in particular, a string of caretakers who Ellie has referred to as "the bisitors." The college-aged babysitter who joined us for summer mornings, Nell, has gone back to college, which Ellie believes to be a dreamlike world in which chocolate cake is served around the clock. Following Nell's departure, a carefully selected nanny, Vivian, who Ellie referred to as "Miss Bibian" joined us for eight unsmiling hours, asked to be paid at the end of the day, and reported a family emergency the next morning. I promise that we did not floss our teeth with our hair in front of Vivian. I may have suggested that the kids enjoy art projects and outdoor time...in a written document that also included emergency contact phone numbers. Two days later, we were blessed with Jane, who is cheerful, loving and so thoughtful -- so naturally, Ellie loves to test boundaries and give her a difficult time sometimes. Nothing that happens before you have children can be prepare you for the long string of embarrassing episodes that is parenthood. On Jane's first day, Ellie announced repeatedly that her parents had told her she (Ellie) would die someday, but probably not soon.
Ellie is verbally precocious, energetic, and terribly observant, especially about things one might rather she not notice or repeat. Her favorite song at the moment is Love Really Hurts Without You, which I listened to once in her presence after it was featured in a TV show. She calls it "Nothing it hurts without you." As her world has narrowed, because we decided not to send her to school this fall due to the pandemic, her attention and affection is increasingly focused on Nitin and me. I have been terribly torn between safety, which ultimately determined our decision about school, and the social development opportunities that her loving school community provided. We especially loved Ellie's teacher, Anne. When we told Anne that Ellie would be leaving for a while, she said, "If I had to choose a child to lose...she would not be the one I'd choose. She's a special kid from a special family." So many tears. We're eager for the day when it is safe for her preschool to operate normally. But I can't think of anyone who isn't looking forward to something like that -- preschool for kids, flights to see relatives, a casual trip to a grocery store, snuggling on a friend's sofa to catch up over tea. Patience outlasts the other virtues.
I recognize, though, that though she is missing playground times with her friends, she has spent more time with Nitin, Myles and me over the past six months than she ever would have otherwise. And nothing can be done, truly. I plan playdates with her friends. We trek to the woods to take nature walks as a family. We blend smoothies, chop vegetables for pizza, stir brownie batter. She exploded science experiments with her Dad and painted with Nell and played Uno with Jane and FaceTimed with her grandparents and wrote postcards with me. Childhood is altered but not canceled.
At some point, I need to report on Myles first in these updates, before I begin to lose steam! We call Myles "Myles-y" and "little guy" most often. And boy does little guy seize the moment when our backs are turned, usually because we are entertaining the requests of his sister -- he loves to jam Zoe's kibble in his mouth, gleefully splash in her water bowl, or sneak items from beneath the bathroom sink. He also favors removing items from the recycling, placing other household items in the recycling, and opening drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. Like his sister, he lacks ordinary social outlets, and has befriended our robotic vacuum cleaners. While they are working, he follows them, freeing them if they become stuck, and shouting, "uh oh," with a furrowed brow.
He is a fairly joyful little fellow and though we see signs of increasing awareness of his surrounding, he still frequently inhabits his own world, running urgently on tiptoes to invisible destinations. At his most frustrated, he has the curious habit of placing his head on the ground with his bottom on the air, in a modified downward down position. He loves being read to and inexplicably, enjoys having his teeth brushed more than his sister ever did. It gives me a sinking feeling because I suspect that he enjoys the individualized attention!
My favorite time with Myles is our bedtime routine. After dinner, I bathe Myles at lightning speed, to prevent him from thrashing his bath water and drenching the bathroom. Then we climb into his crib together with a bottle of milk and a bundle of books. I have begun reading, I wanted you more than you ever will know -- the book that I read Ellie nightly as this age -- to him at the end of each night. Then we listen to instrumental lullabies, including Are you Sleeping, and I sing to him -- "Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, little guy, little guy? Morning bells are ringing..." I give him a goodnight kiss, and about half the time, he bops me on the nose and laughs hysterically.
At the moment, most of Myles's communication is non-verbal, but there are some exceptions. In addition to "Ba" for bottle, Mama, and Dada, he says "What's that, What's that, What's that" when something has grabbed his attention. He also says "Buh bye," often even at a socially appropriate time. And to our shame, one of his ten first words is "Google," which he walks around muttering after hearing our various inquires to Google throughout the day.
Nitin and I have noticed lately that Nitin mixes up my name and Ellie's, and Myles's name and Zoe's. Which is about right. So, we are more or less doing fine. There is a lot to be grateful for, and a lot to be utterly gobsmacked by.
Without further ado, recent quotes from Ellie:
A work in progress:
"My friends at home are you, Daddy, and Zoe, and I'm still working on loving Myles."
Kids are brutal:
Ellie: "Do you have a dad?"
Nell: Hedged for a while, paused, said I don't know, then said my dad passed away, he was in an accident.
Ellie: "Do you have another dad?"
Nell: "No, my mom didn't remarry, so it's just me and my mom and our dog and our cat."
Ellie: "Oh! I want a cat! But I'll have to keep it away from my mom."
[They proceed to discuss cats]
Meteor shower edition:
Nitin: "Look, Ellie, a deer!"
Ellie: "Bye deer, I hope you find everything you need."
Nitin: "Ellie, did you have a nice time today?"
Ellie: "Sure did!"
Making parents feel guilty, part 102:
"We should snuggle more with Mylesy, he is a friendly little boy."
Reading a book about a boy who's afraid of lightning:
Nitin: "Are you afraid of lightning?"
Ellie: "Eh...not so much."
Unfortunately:
Ellie: "Can I draw you a picture?"
Nitin: "Sure."
Ellie: "I need paper."
Nitin: "Where's the paper?"
Ellie: "Unfortunately, it's down the basement."
After Nitin helped her with her workbook:
"Thanks, Daddy coach!"
At bedtime, while reading a book with a quiz at the end:
"I'm kind of an expert at quizzes."
Super:
Ellie: Will I have a mole like you?
Bridget: Maybe. Every body is a little bit different. Sometime people get moles when they are grown ups.
Ellie: "You'll probably already be dying when I'm a grown up."
After following me into the bathroom with Peppa stuffie and Myles:
Ellie: "Do you want some privacy from these three characters in the bathroom?
In response to Nitin making a dad joke:
"Oh, Nitin."
