January 15, 2010 by Barbara.

Reid was trying to spell out “I love you” in finger spelling on the way to school yesterday. She remembered how to spell and form the letters I, L, O but needed help remembering how to form the V and E was forgotten because it is silent. I showed her the Y, O and U as well, since we were at a traffic light and I had a free hand. Reid asked for the W, though, and it took quite a bit of convincing before she believed me that there is no W in “you”. Finally, I had to resort to, “You’ll have to trust me on this one.” It sounds better than, “Because I’m the mom,” but it amounts to the same thing.

It made me think of a story Aunt Karin told me about when Reid was in Wheatley over the summer and Aunt Karin and Uncle Dave took her to Wheatley. Reid wanted them to play “I Spy” and Reid spied something that started with the letter Y. Uncle Dave and Aunt Karin guessed everything that the could possibly think of - there aren’t many words that start with Y - but didn’t guess whatever it was that Reid had spied and she wouldn’t tell them the answer, pleading for them to guess again. Aunt Karin finally said, “water” and Reid was delighted to say that that was the right answer. Aunt Karin explained what sound Y makes at the beginning of the word and they were all happy. Or maybe Reid was happy and the others were relieved that the game was over.

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January 14, 2010 by Barbara.

Reid is increasingly interested in reading, finally agreeing to sound words out when prompted. Her passion, though, remains math. Tonight she chose to work in an addition book while I got supper together. At first, Reid told me the numbers that she was adding together and then she gave the answer. After a bit, she started regrouping the pictures of items to be added and then asking me for the answer. When I told Reid that it was she who needed to practice addition, she assured me that she knew the answers but wanted to know if I did. When I hesitated in answering a question, Reid would offer the initial sound of the correct answer. I was tempted to defend myself - the delay was due to distraction not an inability to work sums less than 10 - but that would have seemed ungrateful since she was giving me hints.

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November 9, 2009 by Barbara.

I was listening to a story about H1N1 vaccination clinic in Toronto on the radio yesterday  when Reid asked me what “eligible” meant. I explained it meant that people qualified for or could get something. In a plaintive tone she said, “I’m sad that I’m not eligible.” I burst out laughing. I didn’t mean to, but I did. No sense denying it. I told Reid that she had had her shot last week because the rules were different in Ottawa. (Our health authorities said “6 months to 5 years” rather than “6 months to under 5 years”.) Reid said, “Oh, I didn’t know what it was called.” She sounded a bit relieved. I don’t know how much Reid has assimilated from reports on the radio about H1N1-related illnesses and deaths but I’m periodically reminded that she is always listening.

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November 5, 2009 by Barbara.

Reid and I took our car to the dealership for routine maintenance to have the snow tires put on this morning. When I mentioned yesterday that I had to complete this errand, Reid was insistent that she accompany me. I don’t remember any particularly enjoyable time spent in the waiting room at the car dealership but maybe I’m forgetting something. In any case, I couldn’t see the harm in Reid and coming and so she did. She was interested in why we drove into the building, why the service guy asked the questions he did and how toasty warm some parts of the garage were. She asked a bunch of other questions, too, but mostly I didn’t have the answers. Putting on snow tires is definitely a sign of impending winter, regardless of the date on the calendar.

As we walked the few blocks to her school, Reid noticed a fire hydrant with a bar on it. As I explained that the bar helped the city workers to find and dig out the fire hydrant after the snow plow had passed, Reid’s eyes started to sparkle. She has been talking about the snow banks we had two years ago - when she was able to sit in the branches of our tree - for a while and the hydrant bar made the link for her.

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July 28, 2009 by Barbara.

Reid has been at camp two days and this is what she had to share (once she’d coached me a bit):

Me: Hey, Reidie.
Reid: Hey, what?
Me: Hey, Reidie.
Reid: Hey, what?
Me: Show us how you disco.
Reid: First, I slide. (Slide arms out)
Then, I bat my eyes. (Motion with hands on either side of head like exaggerated blinking)
Then, I do the Freak. (Think John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever with his arm in the air.)
Then, I do the Super Freak. (Arm in the air again, this time the hand turning a circle with the pointer finger extended)
Me: D-I-S-C-O. That is how we disco.

Sometimes Ken or I got to do the disco part. Reid was so obviously proud of us when we got the words and actions right that I felt a bit insulted. How can she think we’re dumb and uncool when she is only 5? I thought that we had a couple more years of being taken seriously.

By the way, Google tells me that this is a variation of a cheerleading call. Who knew?

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July 23, 2009 by Barbara.

Reid has been refining how we “play baby” over the last while. Fortunately for my sanity, the baby - almost exclusively Reid - no longer cries as much as it used to do. I don’t know that I ever convinced her that she didn’t cry all that much as a baby or if she just tired of it. Either way, I’m glad the baby babbles more than she cries.

But we don’t start with a babbling baby anymore. We start with Reid curled into a ball and nestled against me because she is a baby in my belly. Given what a tall, almost 5-year-old she is - not to mention that I’m am somewhat vertically challenged - her head is on my chest and her feet are at my knees. While the baby is in my belly, I wonder aloud about whether I’ll have a girl or boy. I say, truthfully, that I hope that I have a girl so that I can call her “Reid Elizabeth”, just like I dreamed of doing since I was a teenage girl, Danielle and Shea’s age.

At a certain point, but not before I’ve said my part about hoping for a girl, Reid turns herself upside-down. She announces that she is in the birthing position and I should go to sleep. For reasons that I’m not clear on, Reid is convinced that babies are born while the mamas are asleep. Every now and again, I explain that mamas are usually awake when babies come, that mamas push the babies out of their bodies. We need to find a book that shows body parts because I’m not sure that I’m doing a good job explaining things. At least she knows about the birthing position, at least.

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June 2, 2009 by Barbara.

On Friday night Reid played a Clifford the Big Red Dog Phonics game for ages. I don’t what made her decide that she wanted to do so but she asked and I got her set up. Until now, Reid has required either Ken or me to sit with her while she played. Mostly, Ken was the one who helped her as I get motion sick from many of the games. But last night, she required only instructions from across the room and Ken and I managed some couple time while the sun was shining. I thought it was a pretty good thing. I miss Reid’s babyhood sometimes but there are clear benefits to her getting older.

At bedtime, though, it started to become clear that we might have a video game addict on our hands. Reid was talking about playing Clifford again before soccer. “Umm, no,” said I, the mean mama. Reid was amazed and outraged. The lure of planting our vegetable garden and reading stories was lost on her. Of course, come Saturday, we did plant our garden and Reid many stories and Reid enjoyed them. But when I was making supper, she asked again for Clifford. I think she has played enough to memorize all of the 3-letter words that are used in the game. I’m going to show her Reader Rabbit next and see what she thinks. As long as she doesn’t insist on Dora the Exlplorer, I’ll let the video games slide for a bit.

Any recommedations for other games worth trying out?

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May 23, 2009 by Barbara.

I made pancakes for breakfast today and Reid announced that she wanted to make hers into a sandwich. Thanks to Aunt Karin’s influence, this sort of thing is acceptable as long as no syrup is involved. Blame it on her and San Diego. My response was, “Fill your boots.” Reid asked, surprised, “What the heck?” While Ken tried not to laugh out loud, I explained to Reid that I meant that she should go ahead, like she had boots and she should use them. It’s an army thing I picked up when I worked for National Defence.

I was a bit surprised by Reid’s comment - for at least an hour - until I heard myself use the same expression when speaking with Grandma Joyce. It could’ve been worse. Ken has taught me some bad words over the years.

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April 4, 2009 by Barbara.

One day when I dropped Reid off at school a boy whose name I don’t know looked up and said, “Bonjour, ma belle.” In English that’s literally, “Hello, my beautiful one” but more like “Hello, sweetie.” It certainly is different from the short, “Hi,” that Reid usually offers. It’s a difference in the nature of the languages and the way we perceive them. Who is more emblematic of childhood romance than Pepe le Pew, after all? Having grownup hearing English almost exclusively, French still seems a bit exotic after 14 years (!) here in the nation’s capital. I remind myself that the francophone kids aren’t necessarily smarter because they can already speak French while I’m still working on it. I can definitely speak English better than them. Of course, it’s likely that Reid will soon speak French better than me - her accent is already better than mine - but that won’t bother me. I hope.

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March 28, 2009 by Barbara.

Reid likes to play baby, as I’ve mentioned. If she is the baby, she is an infant with remarkable verbal skills (to allow her to tell me how she wants to be parented or what sounds/movements mean). If I am the baby, I have to be a toddler since Reid can’t carry me. Just recently, I was walking down the hall in the midst of a game of “baby” and Reid called out, “Waddle! You’re a baby.” Now, I’ve got lots of self-confidence and a decent body image but I just couldn’t agree to waddling. I turned and corrected Reid, “It’s toddle, with a ‘t’. Like little kids are toddlers.” I can keep my knees locked to mimic a toddler’s gait but I can’t handle Reid commenting on my waddle. Even a mama has her limits.

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