1m2aSandbox

While our side yard has been a veritable
nursery this year, with the caterpillar-cum-butterfly and the dove
nest, our larger neighborhood has caught baby fever as well; for
the past couple of weeks the yard in front of our neighborhood pool
has hosted a duck nest, replete with eggs and an anxious mama.


A few days ago, the eggs hatched, and the neighborhood’s been
a-flutter with kids and parents alike all trying to catch a glimpse
of the two babies. Alas, natural selection prevailed and one of the
babies was eaten by some animal larger than a duck, but so far the
second baby is hale and hearty.


And as of Friday morning, taking a nice swim in our neighborhood
pool.

Last night Maddie and I had a run-in, and
it wasn’t pretty. The episode occurred at the very end of the
night; it started with her usual prayer time and ended with sobbing
and crying.


The details of the stuff in the middle aren’t important;
suffice it to say that she’s had a hard time recently with me
telling her “no” – as in, I’ll tell her
“no” and she’ll try to argue or bargain down to a
lesser sentence – and I’ve warned her that if it
continues the consequences would be more severe. And last night, it
continued, and ended with me having to put several of her favorite
stuffed animals in her closet for the night.

I was busy doing something in the kitchen
yesterday when I noticed Cora looking stranded in the living room,
as if she were adrift and not quite sure where to land.


“Are you ok, Cora?” I asked.


Cora blinked, coming back to reality. “Yeah, I’m
fine.” And then she turned back to her unfocused look,
clearly working on solving some logistical puzzle in her head.

Maddie’s kitten is getting restless,
no longer content to be shut up in either Maddie’s room or
the bathroom. Our next step is to allow the kitten to roam free
upstairs, but we’ve got a couple obstacles. First, I can put
the baby gate across the top of the stairs, but she can climb it
effortlessly. Second, she is small enough that she can squeeze
through the banister rails and plummet to her death. Not so much an
option.


I’d just let her have the run of the whole house, but our
house is rather large and I’m afraid it’ll take her
some time to get the lay of the land and in the meantime forget
where her litter box is. I’m just not up for more
spot-cleaning of the rugs. Which means we needed to figure out how
to keep her upstairs.

Swim lessons just wrapped up last week,
but there’s no rest for the weary around here; yesterday
morning saw the start of Cora’s four-day ballet camp. How was
Cora going into it?


In a word, ecstatic.


We actually had Cora signed up for a ballet camp last summer
– she’d just turned three, the minimum age at which a
camp is offered at our ballet studio. Unfortunately, Cora was
apparently the only three-year-old interested in a week-long ballet
camp, and the class was canceled. Cora was devastated, and I ended
up doing a one-day ballet camp of our own at my theatre studio,
just for Cora and Maddie and a friend.


This year, though, Cora’s camp held together, and we received
confirmation of it last week. Cora’s been excited for weeks
and couldn’t wait to “move up” on the color
chart: three-year-olds wear pink in class, and Cora spent all last
year in pink every Tuesday. Now that she’s four, though, she
can wear light purple, and Cora’s had Maddie’s old
purple leotard and skirt ready to go for a long, long time. Sunday
night it was laid out very carefully and lovingly on her chair, and
I could see Cora shivering in anticipation as she went to bed.

We’ve just finished our annual
two-week swim class here at our house, and I have to say that for
the first time ever, Maddie really enjoyed it and is anxious for
more.


Maddie’s had a long love-hate relationship with swimming; she
loves the water and playing around in it, but spent her first few
years being incredibly fearful of putting her head under water. She
was so fearful that we had to do private lessons when she was
three, and by the end of that summer she was barely putting her
face in. Each year she grew a bit, and by the end of last summer
she was swimming underwater regularly – but still a bit
worried about jumping in or going where she couldn’t
touch.

Maddie’s got her first well-kitten
appointment today, and I’m not quite sure how she’s
going to handle it. She’s already asked if I can do it for
her, to which I firmly replied, “No!”


Not that she’s squeamish – I think she just
doesn’t want to watch her kitten get a shot, and then be mad,
and possibly link shots with Maddie in her feline mind.
Maddie’s done a great job staying on top of the
kitten’s litter box, exclaiming enthusiastically every time
the cat poops, then cleaning it up with no complaints. So I know
it’s not a soft stomach – just a soft heart.


Wish us luck – this should be interesting.