My 3-yr-old may be smarter than me

It was the kind of morning I always dread. Too tired from a busy and never-long-enough weekend, hearing the sounds of sniffles coming from my daughter's cozy pink bedroom. When we got her up this morning to get ready for school, she insisted she was  fine. She wanted to go to school and play with her fellow preschool friends.

So after our usual morning routine of strawberry milk, a breakfast snack, and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, we headed off to school. I kissed her head and gave her a hug before driving myself across town to work.

Then, around 12:15, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and groaned.
Her school.

"Amelia is in my office, and can't stop crying. She says she doesn't feel good and needs you."

I wasn't thrilled to hear this news, but wasn't extremely surprised. So off I went again, back across town, to pick her up.

I arrived at her classroom and peeked in the door. She took one look at my face and lit up like sunshine.

"Hi, Mommy!" she exclaimed, waving. Then she bounded her happy little self over to me.

I questioned her about her crying incident. I asked her if she was sick.

"No, Mommy. I am fine now!" Grinning. Grasping my hand. "Let's go home."

Um... what?!?

I think a three-year-old may have just duped her mama, two teachers, and the assistant director of her school.


You live you learn... I guess.
(Mama feels like a fool!)


Dark or light? A 3-year old discovers skin color

Like all three-year-olds, my daughter is a knowledge sponge. So much of the world around her is brand new and wonderful.

Much of our time together is spent talking. We discuss her various observations of the world and chat about her numerous 'likes' and her few 'dislikes'. Often, I find myself explaining new words and answering the never-ending rounds of "what's that?" and "why?".

Recently, Amelia began talking about how people look different from each other. Some have brown hair, some have red hair, some have blue eyes (just like hers, she will always say), and some have brown eyes. And last week, she explained to me (in her most serious preschool voice) that everyone has different color skin too. Some skin is dark, some skin is light. 

"Brandon is brown."

"Elizabeth is light."

"I am light."

"Mommy? Why are kids all different colors?"

To which I answer (in my best Mommy voice), "because God made us all special. Everyone is different, and that makes our world prettier."

Amelia (once again with her serious face) pondered this for a moment. She tapped her little finger against her chin in a classic thinking pose.

"Yes," she finally answered.
We have different colors in my class, and my class is beautiful."

Well said, my dear.
Well said.

Another year, another open doorway

Preschool open house chokes me up a little bit every year. Despite being with the same school since Amelia was three months old, despite being a total preschool pro, there is always at least one little thing that hurts just a bit.

We entered a familiar school building last night, but we passed all the familiar rooms. We waved hello at the familiar teachers, but kept on walking. This time, we turned a corner. We turned a corner away from the toddler room, away from the two-year-old rooms, and stepped instead towards the new three-year-old classroom. A classroom in which we learned about new things ahead: cooking lessons, show-and-tell, and even an introduction to Spanish language.

The smart mom in me is proud to have such a fantastic school and unique curriculum for my child.

The sensitive mom in me wants to know where my baby went.

Soon, Amelia will be helping me in the kitchen. Soon, Amelia will be teaching me basic words in a language I do not know. Soon, she will be grasping my hand as we hunt around the house for a show-and-tell item that begins with the letter of the week.

She only knows three kids in her class this time around. I hope she also brings home many stories of their adventures and laughter together as friends. Soon.

Change is difficult.

Even when we know it is for the best.

Say cheese! (How to survive a photo shoot with a preschooler)

I had a brilliant idea to get my favorite photographer to do some outdoor portraits of the family while visiting my hometown this weekend. I failed to remember the heat wave. I failed to realize the limits of 3-year-old behavior when her entire vacation agenda is PLAY. I failed to humidity-proof my new hairstyle.

Need some tips for managing a preschooler in a humid morning photo shoot? Look no further.

Tip #1: Start out with a couple group shots. Get in the picture together to make the event a little less scary.

Tip #2: Don't be shy behind the camera; pretend to attack the photographer with bear claws. "Cut" the photographer's hair with garden clippers. Jump around behind the photographer and act like a complete fool. Pretty much anything goes. As long as the kid is smiling.

Tip #3: When all else fails, bribe. My child was eating a big bowl of neapolitain ice cream at 10:15 that morning. But it worked. I have a feeling we will end up with some beautiful captive memories.

Not ready for this

I am all too familiar with the dramatics of growing up a girl. I have little affection towards memories of issues with friends and my concerns with self-worth.

My stomach lurched when I found my self right smack in the middle of this conversation. With my THREE-year-old:

ME:  "Amelia, are you so glad your friend Emily is back at school this week?"

Amelia:  "Yeah, but she kept running from me."

ME:  "What do you mean, running from you?"

Amelia:  "I wanted to talk to her about vacation. But she just kept running... I don't think she likes me anymore."

ME:  "But of course she likes you! You are friends! Why do you say that?"

Amelia, with a sad face:  "I don't know why she doesn't like me, Mommy. But I don't think she likes me anymore."

I am speechless for a moment.

Amelia, grasping my hand:   "Mommy? We will always be friends."

Sigh.

- - - -

Luckily, like most girly friendship issues, the sad feelings were gone within a day. Emliy and Amelia are very good friends again. Or, I suspect, they always were.

But wow, did my eyes open wide with that conversation. I didn't even know she knew what "doesn't like me" means! I suppose I'd better start getting prepared for the pre-teen years to come.

Yikes.