put the action in satisfaction

look over here!
some anonymous individual wrote a fascinating (to me at least) article about letter carriers. even the comments at the bottom are illuminating, which never happens.

my favourite line:
"The walk to each door puts a little humanness into the machine; there’s pride and even contentment in delivering with care. Every day, I have a chance to do something ordinary, perfectly."

to amp up the preachiness, i think it works nicely with this:
"yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more, and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: you should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody." (1 thessalonians 4:10-12)

treasure island

i love those routines that are invisible to those who take part in them, how certain things are done the same way every time without any awareness by those involved.  jenny just pointed out to me something that forest has been doing for probably at least two years now.  right after storytime forest selects a small object, usually a toy.  he brings it to the bathroom (sometimes attempting to hold it while his teeth are brushed and his clothes are changed) and carefully sets it on the windowsill or the bathroom shelf.  when done in the bathroom, he brings it to bed and after we pray for him, he arranges the object(s) delicately on the bedside table.  if it is a new toy, i need to remove it and put it on the shelf outside the bedroom.  we've had a few cases of toy-insomnia.  then in the morning the chosen object is the first plaything of the day, brought downstairs and placed on the table beside the couch or at forest's spot in the dining room.

such a small detail, but i'm tempted to record it every day for a month or two.  it seems like it might be emblematic of the ebb and flow of our life as a whole.  in the last while we've had several lego minifigures and kinder-surprises, a necklace, an angel statue (with micro gift bag), a rock, a yoda action figure, a box of ballpoint pens, and my five-year pin from work.

tell me tell me baby, who wrote the book of love?

soleil still spends a large part of her day, maybe more now than ever, reading to herself.  i should point out the obvious fact that of course she cannot read words, although she can recognize some letters and numbers.  this doesn't stop her from poring over dozens of books a day.

it is largely a private endeavour, as she will often go up to her room, close the door, pick out a stack of books and clamber up on to her bed.  now that the season has changed, her other favourite spot is the sunroom.  today we borrowed a stack of old disney storybook records and set up the record player there.  as forest dutifully followed along with the story, turning pages whenever tinkerbell rang her chimes, soleil was loudly reading other stories beside him.

she reads purely to entertain herself.  if she catches us listening in too closely (or attempting to take a video) she will either fall silent, shoo us away, or completely change her style into what i call a 'performance mode' full of exaggerated cadences, knowing looks and giggling.  she has a few different ways/styles/modes/registers of reading aside from the performance mode.  sometimes she will recite a story from memory.  but she doesn't shy away from filling in the gaps in her memory with approximations and nonsense words.  most of the time she's following along with the pictures, giving the characters names if she doesn't already know them, switching between narration and dialogue (with voices!).  she's certainly not interested in logic, and will throw in stuff from other stories or videos or dreams or stuff forest pretends or conversations around her.  she's figured out what music notation looks like and will flip through a piano book, pointing at the notes and singing.  i've written before about her poetry - her perfect intonation, rhythm and rhyme serve to magnify the surrealness of the experience.  imagine reading jabberwocky out loud to yourself.  backwards.  in hungarian.  however, last week i was getting ready for work and listening to her on the monitor and i heard this all-english gem:

"puppies and kittens are so very nice
kittens, kittens they love their device"

i can't stress enough how much it seems that ritual of reading as a whole is what is so important to her.  the content of whatever book is certainly significant, but she derives just as much pleasure from books with no pictures at all.  as far as i can tell, the ingredients are as follows.

1. clearly defined space (if the space is too open, she will mark it off with a blanket or some other object)
2. selection of books (she will never bring just one book to the space)
3. companion (even if it is just her water bottle, there is always something else there)
4. book held upright in hand (she gets frustrated when a book is too heavy and must lay on her lap or when i'm changing her diaper and she can't turn the page)
5. feet crossed when possible (if in the car seat, she will often pull her legs up)
6. every page turned one at a time (attempting to interrupt or rush the process leads directly to tantrums)

for example, we went to a store and were having a gander at the toy section.  meanwhile, soleil grabbed a hula hoop, a teddy bear and three board books, marched off to the end of the aisle, sat down in the middle of the hula hoop and began to read.  trespassers were forbidden.  the rest of us were ready to go after the second book.  i picked her up and the store was immediately treated to sounds normally reserved for ambulances.  we all agreed that it was best to just let her finish the leslie patricelli masterpiece entitled 'potty'.

world without end

forest explains life and death at the playground.  i've condensed the conversation a bit, but these are all his words.

"well, i have some bad news for you.  bluie [our betta] died.  daddy buried him.  his body is in the ground and will grow into a beautiful blue flower.  if we make a gravestone, we will write on it 'have a nice life'.  because he isn't really dead.  i mean his body is, but his spirit isn't with his body.  kind of like a ghost.  but he has a life that goes on.  it's called heaven."

only del shannon understands

forest is still haunted by the two times he was lost.  both were in his third year.  the first was a classic department-store setup, something that mr dressup would act out.  jenny was off looking at clothes while faz and i were milling around aimlessly.  we both got distracted by different things at the same time.  both panicked and searched for each other in different directions.  but like a model citizen, he went straight to the cashier and told them he was lost and that his mama's name was jenny. we were instantly reunited and all was well.

the other time he went to visit my mom at work.  they were playing together in one of the sunday school rooms and my mom realized she needed to get something from her office, two doors down the hallway.  deep in play, forest didn't really register her absence until she was gone, despite her careful explaining and asking of permission.  the world ended.  all was lost.  when she returned moments later she found the bond of trust lying shattered on the floor.

he wouldn't use these exact words, but tattooed deep in his brain you can read: "responsible caring adults are there to help you.  stick with them no matter what."

not so with our dear soleil.

like the gingerbread baby, she takes delight not only in running away but in taunting and evading those who dare to follow.  unlike the gingerbread baby, she prefers to hide rather than keep running.

it started in our yard.  forest had hurt himself and needed some fairly focused attention. seizing this perfect moment, she walked over to our neighbour's house, rang the doorbell and invited herself in.  our sweet neighbour brought her over before we even noticed she was gone.  how embarrassing.

pleased with these results, she has attempted the same stunt on a near-daily basis.  the more irritated we get, the more strident her efforts.  i find myself staring longingly at the shock-collar fences at the hardware store.

which leads me to her newest field of endeavour: stores.  when forest is with us, all is well.  she tries to run away.  he shrieks "RUNAWAY BABY!", dashes after her, tackles her to the ground and holds her, kicking and screaming, until i come to pick her up.  those who aren't appalled chuckle knowingly.

unfortunately, forest isn't always present.  one time i had to ask the paint lady a question.  soleil disappeared around a corner and five minutes later i found her climbing a stack of wheelbarrows in the entrance.  eek.  capitalizing on that success, her new pattern is to sprint, change directions a time or two and then silently hide.  the bigger the store, the longer it takes to find her.  she has yet to show any fear or remorse.

the latest incident was at superstore.  jenny headed back to the dairy section for coffee cream, leaving me and the cuties to discuss the selection of crackers.  soleil had made some test flights already, with limited results.  but now she is off like a flash into the next aisle.  by the time i park the cart to one side and follow faz around the corner she is out of sight.  unbeknownst to jenny, we zoom from aisle to aisle, forest asking everyone if they have seen "my baby sister in a pink jacket".  finally we head to customer service.

efficient, somewhat worried lady - can i help you?
faz - MY BABY SISTER RAN AWAY!   AGAIN!
me -  yes.  my daughter has disappeared again.  she doesn't want to be found.
lady - what does she look like?
me - she is three years old, has long hair and a pink jacket.
faz - and the cutest little smirking face!
lady (on speaker) - we have a code adam in the store.

immediately, the entire management of the store is either guarding doors or going up to every pink-jacketed child in the store and asking them if they know where their mommy is.  meanwhile, jenny has located soleil hiding behind the kinder egg display, watched over by one of the customers whom forest approached earlier.  she is crouched in a ball, smirking and wide eyed.

jenny - hi. . .
hero - a little boy asked me if i had seen a girl in a pink jacket.  i saw her hiding here and i thought that i better keep an eye on her.
jenny - has she said anything to you?
hero - no.
jenny - how long have you been here?
hero - at least five minutes.

she stayed in the cart after that, despite vociferous protests.