My Three Year-Old Daughter Practicing For Pesach

"Ma nishtana hawhywah hazeh mikol hawaywos"

What an Honor!

There is somewhat of a custom in my brother OD's yeshiva to give something called a "kibud" in honor of the birth of a daughter. (Kibud means honor.) As there is no bris, but to have a full-blown kiddush would be a little much (and expensive!), this is done instead: Basically, set up a few tables in one of the larger rooms downstairs, serve some doughnuts, cookies, and the like, and everyone wishes the proud father a hearty mazel tov.

My brother usually is the one in charge of the kibud, which entails buying everything, setting it all up, and cleaning up after it's all over. A couple of days ago, this caused the following conversation between his son Ben (3!) and his wife SIL.

Ben: Where's Daddy?

SIL: He's doing a "kibud".

Ben: Oh.

(pause)

Tell him I like doughnuts.

;)

Eh!

That was our new daughter Elianna's response to Cruisin' Mom. ;)

[Sorry, just a little excited - thanks CM!]

Sibling worship

I came into the living room this afternoon and was met with sight of Mordechai(6) and Sari(3 1/2) bent over a world map spread out on the floor.

Mordechai: Savta's in Israel now. I'll show you where it is, k?

Sari: Yeah, yeah! Where is it?

Mordechai: It's this little one, right here. See it?

Sari (sighs and gazes at him in wonder): Mordechai, do you know everything?

Science Wonders for Kids

My 6 yr old daughter is very curious about science and is always asking me questions, which I can't ever answer. I suggested that she create her own blog and post her questions and thoughts on it and perhaps she will get feedback. She came up with the name of the website herself.

It's Science Wonders for Kids at http://sciencewonders4kids.blogspot.com/.

We still need to fine tune the site, but she still wanted to post some of her recent questions.

Please check it out and if you or your kids know any of the answers, she would love to hear from you.

Tiny and New

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm anxiously waiting to hear what Ezzie's little girl has to say!

How to Return a Compliment

Abba: I like your jeans.

The PT: Fanks....I....like your pants. They're beautiful. Also your shirt is beautiful.

tortured artist

Chana (6), on the way to school this morning:

"Dad, you know how I like to draw a lot? Well, I drew everything. I don't know what else to draw."

Overheard

Child tasting a piece of candy at Mordechai's siddur party, with look of extreme distaste punctuating his visage: Eeew! It tastes like salad!

Misunderstanding

Some kids, by the time they're four, can talk almost as well as adults. Not Sweetie. Some things she says, it takes all my synapses to figure out what she means. The worst was 'tanahat' which turned out to be "Cat in the Hat". I think that took a few days. The funniest is "Holy-you-ya!" Fortunately, she's very patient. I repeat what I thought I heard, and she says it again with slightly different emphasis until I get it right. But now, sometimes she takes advantage of this arrangement, by saying gibberish on purpose, but changing it slightly everytime so that I never win. This is a very funny joke to her, and she tries to keep me going even after I protest that she's pulling my leg.

Tiny has the same problem, but zero patience for my confusion. I usually only have two tries before Tiny starts screaming the phrase, which makes her even harder to understand. (We're still working on the commandment, "Thou shalt not scream") But when I'm lucky, Sweetie is there to translate. Somehow she understands everything Tiny says, even though their pronunciation habits are completely different.

Another game Sweetie likes to play on me is asking the same question repeatedly until I accidentally give a different answer, or asking several questions in rapid succession so I get confused. When in my distraction I give the answer she wants, she tries to hold me to it.

- Can I play in snow when we get home?
- No, you need a nap before church.
- Can I have a snack?
- We have crackers right here.
- I want different kind.
- <checking blind spot> This is what we have.
- When we get home.
- When we get home you're taking a nap.
- I don' wan' take a nap.
- Do you wanna go to church?
- Yes...
- Then you need a nap.
...
- Can I play outside when we get home?
- <waving pedestrian to cross> No, you need a nap.
- Can I sleep with my baby?
- Sure.
- Can I have crackers?
- Right here.
- Can I have a drink?
- Wait till we get home.
- Can I play in snow?
- <looking for space in traffic> Yeah.
- Yay!
- <confused> No, wait a second, you can't play outside...
- But you said I could.
- That's cuz you were confusing me!
- <grins, giggles>

A Mill by Any Other Name

I was talking to my middle child yesterday about the health club I used to belong to.

She asked about what I used to do there, if I used to swim, use a step machine...if they had a windmill.

A WINDMILL? I tried to think about what kind of machine resembled a windmill, what she might be referring to?

Again she asked if they had a windmill there.

Then it hit me: a treadmill.

And so I told her: "It's not called a windmill, it's called a treadmill." She convinced me that she knew that, but her older brother calls it a windmill, and therefore she does too!

What am I?

The PT (age 4) was in one of her whiney moods last night:

The PT: Abaaaaaa....I need a snack.

Abba: Ok, let's go in the kitchen.

The PT: Abaaaaa....what am I?

Abba: Uh...what do you mean?

The PT: What am I?

Abba: ...a little girl.

The PT: Nooooo....what AM I??

Abba: A kid.

The PT: NOOOO...What AM I???

Abba: A little bird?

The PT: NOOOO!!!

Abba: An elephant?

The PT: WHAATT AMM III???

Abba: A monster?

Abba: A nudnick??

Abba: A pest??

Abba: A dog???

Abba: A human???

Abba: A maniac???

The PT: NOOOOO!!!!! WHAT AM IIIIIIIIIiiiiIIIII??????

Abba: ....

Abba: I don't know what you want me to say.

The PT: Ugh....

The PT: Am I milchig or fleishig????

Abba: ....

Abba: I'm going to eat you now. I'll let you know.

The PT: (maniacal laughter)

Barber shop banter

Mordechai's (6) having his siddur party tomorrow. For the occasion (and because his hair was starting to resemble that of the Beatles), I gave him a haircut tonight. It is my custom to play the part of "barber" when I cut his hair because it distracts him enough to give me another few moments of wriggle-free trimming. As any good barber does, I engaged the customer in conversation...

Me: So what's the occasion for this haircut, sir?

Mordechai: Oh, I'm having a party tomorrow.

Me: Oh! What kind of party?

Mordechai (apparently assuming I was either a gentile barber or a non-observant Jew): It's a book party.

Me: A book party? Why would you make a party for a book?

Mordechai: It's a holy book.

Yes, you're strong

Sweetie(6) is a very strong little kid, as strong as I am with the fibromyalgia. I tried to arm-wrestle her once, but she didn't get it. I'm sure by the time her arm is long enough, she'll beat me easily. One day we were at Kmart and I was looking for some particular electronics item in a display of many choices, and as usual she wandered:

- Look, I can lift this. I'm so strong!
- Yep, you're stronger than I am.
- Come look!
- I'm busy, hang on...wait a minute, I wonder what she's lifting. It might be breakable... I better go check.
- OH MY GOODNESS, PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU DROP IT! Yes, you're very strong, I'm so impressed, but you can't lift something that might break, from now on you better ask before you lift something heavy at a store.
- But I didn't drop it...

I wish she'd show off when it's time to carry groceries. I have occasionally had to refuse to let her in the house until she brings the assigned bags. She claims they're "too heavy", but if a grocery bag was too heavy for this child the handles would certainly break.

Time To Move

My brother and sister-in-law's apartment is getting a bit cramped, now that they have two kids - Ben, 3, and Henna Bayla, 1. While most kids try to avoid going to bed in ingenious fashion, I thought Ben's latest was pretty good...

(From an e-mail from SIL)

All little kids try to avoid going to bed - there are so many excuses - thirsty, etc. Here is Ben's from last night:

He had decided to drive his car from the kitchen to his room. I was already sitting on his bed, waiting to read him a book but he kept telling me he couldn't come yet... becuse he "couldn't find a spot"!

Ah, New York... :)

Kindergarten politics

Mordechai was talking to Dovid and giving him the rundown of how things stand at school (names were changed to protect classmates' anonymity):

Reuven is leader of the bad guys. He gets in trouble all the time. I'm the leader of the good guys. Shimon thinks he's the leader of the good guys but he's not. He walks around and shows off about how many stars he has and the other boys don't like that because he's trying to make them jealous. And Levi thinks he's so cool because he has gedolah* [sic] cards.

* Gedolim cards are collectible cards featuring Jewish religious leaders, past and present.

reptilian delicacies

Chana, 6, who is getting pretty good at reading, as we pass a gas station that features a "Snack Shop":

"That place has a snake shop!"

Sweetie speaks

(Sweetie is six)

- My leg hurts!
<I ignore this because she isn't screaming.>
- I feel like I need go hostapul and break it and get a new one.
- I'm gonna write that down.
- Can you call 911?
- No.
- Are you gonna write that down too?

*********

- Daddy's home! <looking out the window> He has a paper!
- Why is that so exciting?
- It's not 'citing!

*********

I was looking for Disney Princess coloring pages on a German website, but finding only pictures from the individual movies.

- What, don't they have Disney Princess in Germany?
- Nope.
- How do you know?
- 'Cause I went there.
- You went to Germany?
- Yeah.
- <skeptical>
- I'm serious, I went there!

(She has no idea what Wisconsin is, much less Germany.)

A bald statement

Cousin Alex, whose hair is rather "thin", to put it kindly, was engaged in conversation with Mordechai (6):

M: Where's you hair?

A: (pulling at hair over ears) I have hair. Right here!

M: Did you get, like, a hundred haircuts?

missing the point

Rivka, 4, runs into our bed when she wakes up. Every morning. No matter what time it is. So we had to explain to her that she's not allowed to come in before 6. She has a digital clock in her room, and we told her that if she wakes up before the "6" appears to the left of the "two dots," she has to wait in her bed. So yesterday morning, around 5:45, we are awakened by her shouts: "Where are you, six? Turn to six!!!"