School Dayz

So with all the hub-bub of me starting a new job, and what with the travel and unexpected passings, I've completely dropped the ball on reporting on a major event in Otter's existence: the start of her schooling.

Now that the wheels that will take her down the road of unfathomable success or epic failure have started turning, I can step back and assess SB's reaction to the start of the journey.

The first day was met with dubioius interest. On the upside, from the open house, she knew there was a bunny and toy cars there. And paint. And cookies for snack. And a brand new lunch pail, shaped like an owl that she could take. On the downside, aside from those certainties, she had nothing to go on. And in our household, strange = bad.

The first few days went well enough, with us staying in the classroom and Otter tentatively playing with the myriad new toys available to her. And then we took a trip to see grandparents - followed by a "no kids" trip to Vegas. And though Otter continued to go to school while Bree and I did up Sin City, upon our return SB began the "I don't want to go to school," routine.

But after days of using every tactic to get her into the classroom - from pointing out all the cool stuff there to telling her she can quit, but has to tell her teacher in person - it seems that SB has found her stride. She's now playing "school" at home - which involves us eating a lot of "snacks," - eating up the aforementioned school snacks with gusto, singing songs, and mentioning what the other kids did that day.

This morning, she rushed me out the door, saying "It's time for school!"

Apparently to a good end or bad end, this school thing is here to stay.

Sneak Preview or Daddy's Girl

I usually joke that Otter is almost 3 going on 13. And it might more true than I want to believe. In the last few weeks, I've been progressively getting previews of what's to come some ten years in the future, or now - whichever comes sooner.

It started innocently enough - being told to come back when she wasn't quite ready to get up in the morning. Then came the day I was sent away while she was playing train ride with Bree. Last week, when I accidentally nudged her with the door, she ran off, sobbing and burying her head in the guest room bed. She screamed, "Go away!" while I vainly tried to apologize. Eventually I had to retreat, only enticing her out by loudly telling the rubber duckies how sorry and sad I was, and reading them the bedtime story meant for SB.

And today the beginning of the end...well, began. After 2 nights of being late - an event that usually requires extra attention - I came home early enough for someone to go to the grocery store. But when she heard that Bree was heading out, she freaked. And when I asked her if she wanted her Papa to stay and put her down (again) while I left, she quickly, and happily, agreed. And why shouldn't she? Papa plays Elevator, Train Ride, Airplane Ride, and Picnic better than I ever will.

My place in the sun is temporarily (or permanently?) eclipsed.

And it's weird, and surprising, and a little liberating. Good luck, Papa!

Potty Mouth

While Otter may be having a tough time with the potty itself, it should come as no surprise that as far as a potty mouth is concerned, she's got it going on. There was no question that sooner or later (with all signs pointing to 'sooner') SB was going to adopt some of her parents...um, colorful expressions. The only debate was which of us would be responsible for the first utterance.

And the winner is...mommy! Adding to her already rich vocabulary of "Oh my God's," SB took the game up a notch. Don't snicker. I know what you are all thinking, but, for the record, Bree isn't exactly innocent of dropping Otter-inappropriate bombs on quite a regular basis. As my narrative will prove.

This morning, as Bree was putting enough butter on a waffle to deep fry a whole chicken in, I couldn't help but comment on it, in my own distinctive way. "Holy crap, poppa!" Otter gleefully parroted.

Amid looks of surprise and judgement mixed with barely suppressed laughter, Bree and I tried to make sense of this new linguistic frontier we had just so casually embarked upon. There were silent accusations of wrong-doing, expressions of surprise at how long it took for this to happen, an offhanded remark about being convinced it would be the other parent who would open Pandora's box, and finally, a curious confession.

"You know," said Bree, after having thoroughly reprimanded me for having befouled our child's previously virginal vocabulary, "she may have repeated something I said the other day, and dropped an f-bomb." Really? "But I'm not entirely sure," he quickly added. "And this is the first confirmed cursing."

Perpetrated by me. How convenient.

K2

SB is now officially a climber. Completing the training that she began back in the womb, when she threatened to tear through my chest cavity by climbing up Alien-style, she can now mount the bed and our dining room chairs. She does this all with lightening speed, occasionally upping the ante by carrying multiple stuffed animals and her water bottle (held tightly in her teeth) on the ascent.

Now, every time it gets too quiet, we race to find her, usually standing on the bed and, once in a while, sitting on the dining room table.

Early Achievement

The Terrible Twos have arrived with a bang, kick and scream about 6 months early. The most common victim of this new milestone is our long-suffering dog, whose daily regimen of being assaulted with hugs and being force fed various bits Otter finds on the floor (some of it even edible) has been augmented by pokes, smacks and the occasional wheeled toy hit and run.

Attempts at curtailing this barrage of abuse are generally met with kicking, punching and screaming (and that's just MY reaction ;) ). As I searched for a more workable solution, I've run across the gamut of suggestions, everything from Dr. Happy's advice that involved mirroring SB's feelings in Toddlerese, along with some clapping and growling, to Internet boards offering everything from loving hugs and pretending to cry to beating your child with a staff in the name of the Lord. I wish I was kidding.

The dog concedes his defeat before the abuse with a characteristically morose outlook, fleeing when the barrage becomes to intense. Such is his lot, balanced somewhat by nighttime bed privileges and mealtime snacks courtesy of the Otter.

As for me, I'm trying to lovingly acknowledge her emotions while dodging and weaving, holding down the legs with all my might, and starting to research boarding schools.

17 Months

She does the Booty Dance on request.

She loves Barney's "I Love You" song - god only knows how, since we've never shown her a Barney show.

She has 6 teeth.

She hugs the dog. And everyone else.

She feeds the dog. Everything.

She no longer fits in the baby bath.

She loves koalas, pandas, tigers, octopuses, kangaroos, penguins and ducks.

Her favorite outfit is the pink doggie onesie, which she asks to wear every day.

She enjoys rolling on the floor.

She knows all the Sesame Street characters.

She's almost a year and a half.

Otter-tionary

An updated dictionary of SB's growing vocabulary, as well as her interpretations of the English language:

gaga - tiger

mama - 1) mama; 2) lemon

papa - papa

doggie - any and all animals

baba/nyumy nyumy nyumy - bottle with milk

mooo - what cows say

up - up

appa - apple

ba - ball

neow - what cats say

constipated poopy noise impossible to spell - what horses say (also what sea horses say)

mouth opening and closing - what fish say

sniffing - what rabbits say; also the smell of socks, clothes etc.

nana - banana

ni-ni - good night

naaaa - nose

maaa - mouth

agua - water

gabtey gabtey - what turkeys say

neena - nina (little girl)

TEETH!!!!!!!

I admit it - for a while, I suspected my child might be part rodent. That her 2 bottom teeth would remain her only means of chewing, growing for her whole life, and requiring her to gnaw on furniture to keep them from growing too far.

While all our baby friends sprouted incisors and molars, Otter teethed with a vengence, drooling, chewing, sucking and being cranky with absolutely nothing to show for her suffering.

But today - oh joy of joys - as I flipped her upside down, I saw them. Not one but BOTH of her front top teeth peeking out! In days, we'll have doubled our tooth supply. Not bad for a few weeks' work.

16 to go...

From the Mouths of Babes

Otter's been babbling up a storm. Some of it is even been comprehensible... So here is her vocabulary, to date:

Mama - meaning "mama," but also "give me" or "I want"

Papa - meaning "papa"

Nyum-nyum - meaning "hungry" and "good" (as it pertains to food)

Doggie - used to signify dogs and virtually all other animals. On the other hand, often used to identify dog barks, which is quite perceptive.

Night-night - goodbye

Uh-oh - not sure if she knows what this means, but loves to say it, and uses it to ID the "What Does Baby Say?" book that first introduced us to that phrase.

Agua - water (yeah, in Spanish - my child is multi-lingual you see)

Small Steps, Giant Leaps

Today, Otter turned 13 months and is officially into her 2nd year of life. Kinda crazy and wild. The last month has been a series of leaps that seem huge in retrospect, but which snuck up on us so that we barely noticed they happened.

Somewhere down the line, SB was weaned. It happened gradually, beginning, perhaps, when I first went back to work (when she was 5 months old) and she began getting her milk from the bottle rather than from the tap. Sure, it was still breast milk, but the separation of boob and food had begun. Then came the days of milk cocktail, with cow milk gradually gaining a presence until finally, all that remained was a morning feeding that was symbolic at most. Once Otter realized that she could get the good stuff much faster out of bottle we now offered in the morning, she dumped the boob like yesterday's newspaper. Suddenly, I had my body back.

Our breast feeding journey ("journey" - how La Leche League of me) had been at times painful, frustrating, at times shockingly bonding, often humbling, occasionally hilarious. We've made it a year, weaning on Otter's schedule without her ever having tasted formula.

In other breaking news, Otter took her first unassisted step today. Initially, she tried walking on the bed while holding a pillow, which led to a long debate as to what exactly constituted a first step. Were pillows allowed? Did it have to be on the floor? But Otter saved us from further argument by repeating her milestone on the floor. Lest we get too excited though, she promptly fell to the floor and continued crawling.