One of my greatest parenting joys has been watching the creativity my 3-year-old exhibits on a daily basis. From creating drawings that everyday look a little more like whatever creature she's actually trying to draw, to making up songs on the fly that are better rhymed than some of the radio's pop songs, to narrating elaborate dollhouse dramas that would leave Modern Family writers in a standing ovation; she seems to be a bottomless pit of ideas. In an effort to document some of her more epic tales, I decided to include them in my blog for everyone's enjoyment.
These were all from today. She wanted me to write down the script for her plays that she was about to act out, prior to which involved closing all of the curtains, turning off all the lights, her putting on a costume of sorts, and giving the stuffed animals a run down of their scenes. The following are what she dictated to me.
Script 1:
Once there was a happy butterfly, flying around the government. The government is a far place. It's a dangerous place with dragons and hippos. They do not always want people to come near them, so you've got to be careful.
The End.
(This could explain a lot about our current economic crisis).
Script 2:
Once there was a super spy who was gonna fight a dragon. She was very, very, very brave, so she could go out there. But, you must have to be careful. The dragon almost ate her, but he didn't, because I spied him and smashed him with my magnifying glass. But, my magnifying glass didn't break.
The End.
Script 3:
The first little pig and the rabbit builded their house so they could stay away from the big bad elephant. They said, "No! He is not going to come in." Rabbit said, "He likes ice cream better." But the big great elephant came and woke up the first little pig, but the rabbit blew away. He had to get the rabbit back, but it was too late. He was already in a cage. BUT, he could get out.
The End.
Script 4:
This was a story about the little girl. The little girl needed a rest. But then three giant bad kittys come up and said, "No coming near us!" And they ate the little girl up, but then she got back out.
Then they had another idea. They had to trap her in jail. But they were already dead. So the little girl winned.
The End.
Epic, I know. The little girl definitely "winned."
Showing posts with label Toddlers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toddlers. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2012
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Survival of the Sickest...
My apologies to those who have been faithfully reading my blog, but with a house full of sicklings I've felt less than energized the past 3 weeks. Thankfully, the women in the house are now much better and the male is on the mend.
I thought I'd share my doctor experience with you. It was my first hospital trip in China. Honestly, I'd be fine if it was also my last.
When my 3 year old woke up with a 102 fever after being sick for over a week, I knew it was time to do that which I had been dreading - figure out how in the world to go to the doctor. There is a small clinic in our city where they speak English, but it's almost an hour away by taxi and I didn't want to have my little ones out in the cold and feeling miserable. So, I called my Chinese friend who has good English, has children, and lives just around the corner. She said she would gladly take us to the hospital she takes her kids to and that it was very near.
I got us ready to go, and tried to psych myself up for what was about to happen, but nothing I was putting in my diaper bag could have classified me as prepared.
In the taxi on the way, my friend called one of her Chinese friends and asked if foreigners can take Chinese medicine. I started to wonder myself. Could there be some physiological difference I was unaware of? Maybe Chinese antibiotics only worked on Chinese people!
My nerves are on high alert when my kids are sick, and both my 3 year old and my 3 month old were not feeling well. Needless to say, when we arrived at the hospital and I saw there was a mob formed around the check-in window, I felt that piece of me that screams for a single file line well up within me. Luckily, my friend is pretty pushy - apparently you have to be to survive in this country. I handed her some cash to pay and retreated to some seats against the wall, ready to wait until they called our name...
There was no name calling. My friend waved for me to follow her down the hall that was only big enough to fit one and a half persons across, and we were meant to go into exam room 1, where there were currently twenty plus people, standing room only. There were two doctors behind a table, and from my estimation, they examined whoever was the pushiest, or whoever coughed the most on everyone else in the room.
I backed out into the hallway for some air, only to look into the room across the hall where there were 20 more children all with IV's. I had heard that China was IV happy, and now I know it firsthand.
My 3 year old whimpered she wanted to go home. I choked back my own whimpers and tried to sound encouraging, but I was ready to break the door down and set off a lysol bomb.
My friend shoved her way forward and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the doctor. She motioned for us to come. We sat and the doctor did the quickest exam I had ever beheld. There was no chit-chat. No reassuring bed-side manners. It was get in, get out. She asked her symptoms, listened to heart, looked at throat, checked for fever, and whisked us out of the chair with a rip of her prescription pad. Back to mob window to pick up the prescribed drugs, and we were on our way.
My little girl was more of a trooper than I was. All in all, we were in the hospital for about thirty minutes. One time in the states, my daughter was sick with the flu and we were in the doctor's office for four hours. Yet something in me feels like it wants that one at a time, take-your-time-diagnosing-me method over the expedient, over-crowded and slightly more disturbing method. I find I crave the familiar, no matter how inefficient, costly, or inconvenient, especially when faced with uncontrollable circumstances. But I'm learning to loosen my grip.
Once home, (and once my friend finished translating all the directions for taking the Chinese medicines into English), my daughter beamed with pride, "I was brave, wasn't I Mama?" I smiled and kissed her and said she was. And my husband smiled and kissed me and said we both were.
Today I am thankful for really fast check-ups, for health, and for friends who will brave mobs of sick people to take me and my kids to the doctor.
Oh, and turns out foreigners can take Chinese medicines just fine.
I thought I'd share my doctor experience with you. It was my first hospital trip in China. Honestly, I'd be fine if it was also my last.
When my 3 year old woke up with a 102 fever after being sick for over a week, I knew it was time to do that which I had been dreading - figure out how in the world to go to the doctor. There is a small clinic in our city where they speak English, but it's almost an hour away by taxi and I didn't want to have my little ones out in the cold and feeling miserable. So, I called my Chinese friend who has good English, has children, and lives just around the corner. She said she would gladly take us to the hospital she takes her kids to and that it was very near.
I got us ready to go, and tried to psych myself up for what was about to happen, but nothing I was putting in my diaper bag could have classified me as prepared.
In the taxi on the way, my friend called one of her Chinese friends and asked if foreigners can take Chinese medicine. I started to wonder myself. Could there be some physiological difference I was unaware of? Maybe Chinese antibiotics only worked on Chinese people!
My nerves are on high alert when my kids are sick, and both my 3 year old and my 3 month old were not feeling well. Needless to say, when we arrived at the hospital and I saw there was a mob formed around the check-in window, I felt that piece of me that screams for a single file line well up within me. Luckily, my friend is pretty pushy - apparently you have to be to survive in this country. I handed her some cash to pay and retreated to some seats against the wall, ready to wait until they called our name...
There was no name calling. My friend waved for me to follow her down the hall that was only big enough to fit one and a half persons across, and we were meant to go into exam room 1, where there were currently twenty plus people, standing room only. There were two doctors behind a table, and from my estimation, they examined whoever was the pushiest, or whoever coughed the most on everyone else in the room.
I backed out into the hallway for some air, only to look into the room across the hall where there were 20 more children all with IV's. I had heard that China was IV happy, and now I know it firsthand.
My 3 year old whimpered she wanted to go home. I choked back my own whimpers and tried to sound encouraging, but I was ready to break the door down and set off a lysol bomb.
My friend shoved her way forward and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the doctor. She motioned for us to come. We sat and the doctor did the quickest exam I had ever beheld. There was no chit-chat. No reassuring bed-side manners. It was get in, get out. She asked her symptoms, listened to heart, looked at throat, checked for fever, and whisked us out of the chair with a rip of her prescription pad. Back to mob window to pick up the prescribed drugs, and we were on our way.
My little girl was more of a trooper than I was. All in all, we were in the hospital for about thirty minutes. One time in the states, my daughter was sick with the flu and we were in the doctor's office for four hours. Yet something in me feels like it wants that one at a time, take-your-time-diagnosing-me method over the expedient, over-crowded and slightly more disturbing method. I find I crave the familiar, no matter how inefficient, costly, or inconvenient, especially when faced with uncontrollable circumstances. But I'm learning to loosen my grip.
Once home, (and once my friend finished translating all the directions for taking the Chinese medicines into English), my daughter beamed with pride, "I was brave, wasn't I Mama?" I smiled and kissed her and said she was. And my husband smiled and kissed me and said we both were.
Today I am thankful for really fast check-ups, for health, and for friends who will brave mobs of sick people to take me and my kids to the doctor.
Oh, and turns out foreigners can take Chinese medicines just fine.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Bedtime Shenanigans
In our house we try to have a bedtime routine. Take a bath, brush your teeth, read 2 books, say prayers, and goodnight. It looks flawless on paper. However, my 3-year-old has her own ideas about how the bedtime routine should go.
"I'll take 3 hops, 4 skips, and 2 twirls. Then I'll put on my pajama shirt. Then I'll climb in bed and back out, do a forward roll, and put on my pants. Then I'll do 3 hops to the bathroom and brush my teeth. First my turn, then your turn. Then..."
I may have created a monster. My daughter is more in love with making plans than I am. Sometimes I even have to write her a list that we can check off, and she makes sure I include each step so there are more checkable items to which we must adhere. I'm all for structure and routine, but I feel things are getting away from the adults in this house!
Lately its the post-goodnight routine that is taking its toll on the over 30 crowd. (Only over by a few months I'd like to add). We say goodnight and close the door, tiptoe to the couch and wait. We know it's coming.
"Daaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyy! I need to go potttttttyyyyyy!"
There's something within me that just feels wrong about telling her she can't go potty, but I know not a drop of pee is going to come out when we get to the toilet.
So, we wise up and add "go potty" to the pre-bedtime list. Now we've got this parenting thing down... until the next night.
"Mooooooooommyyyyyyyyyy! I need a driiiiiiiiiiinnnnnkkkkkkkkkkkk!"
Rats. Didn't see that one coming. Also added to pre-bedtime routine.
Within the course of 2 weeks, my daughter successfully added 5 new line items to the bedtime routine, including singing a lullaby, rubbing her back, making pooh bear talk, reading pooh a story, and laying down with her. And after all of these shenanigans, the grown-ups trod wearily to bed. Finally, we have won. We will now accept our post-graduate degrees in parenting. We are not letting her manipulate us with bedtime. We have successfully headed her off at the pass, creating a routine that will not bend! Parenting magazines, feel free to use us as your feature article.
"Daaaaaaaddyyyyyyyy! I need a tissue!"
I never did like routines and tight schedules. Today I am grateful for flexibility and for a three-year-old mastermind who makes me laugh.
"I'll take 3 hops, 4 skips, and 2 twirls. Then I'll put on my pajama shirt. Then I'll climb in bed and back out, do a forward roll, and put on my pants. Then I'll do 3 hops to the bathroom and brush my teeth. First my turn, then your turn. Then..."
I may have created a monster. My daughter is more in love with making plans than I am. Sometimes I even have to write her a list that we can check off, and she makes sure I include each step so there are more checkable items to which we must adhere. I'm all for structure and routine, but I feel things are getting away from the adults in this house!
Lately its the post-goodnight routine that is taking its toll on the over 30 crowd. (Only over by a few months I'd like to add). We say goodnight and close the door, tiptoe to the couch and wait. We know it's coming.
"Daaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyy! I need to go potttttttyyyyyy!"
There's something within me that just feels wrong about telling her she can't go potty, but I know not a drop of pee is going to come out when we get to the toilet.
So, we wise up and add "go potty" to the pre-bedtime list. Now we've got this parenting thing down... until the next night.
"Mooooooooommyyyyyyyyyy! I need a driiiiiiiiiiinnnnnkkkkkkkkkkkk!"
Rats. Didn't see that one coming. Also added to pre-bedtime routine.
Within the course of 2 weeks, my daughter successfully added 5 new line items to the bedtime routine, including singing a lullaby, rubbing her back, making pooh bear talk, reading pooh a story, and laying down with her. And after all of these shenanigans, the grown-ups trod wearily to bed. Finally, we have won. We will now accept our post-graduate degrees in parenting. We are not letting her manipulate us with bedtime. We have successfully headed her off at the pass, creating a routine that will not bend! Parenting magazines, feel free to use us as your feature article.
"Daaaaaaaddyyyyyyyy! I need a tissue!"
I never did like routines and tight schedules. Today I am grateful for flexibility and for a three-year-old mastermind who makes me laugh.
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