1m2aSandbox

Two points if anyone recognizes that title
as a line from the theme song from “WKRP in Cincinnati”
–


I am, as many of you know, a bit of an organizational freak. I
actually enjoy organizing my pantry, or unpacking in a new home.
But even for me, the endless tedium of shepherding small children
through their daily lives – the backpacks and lunches and
snacks and extra underwear changes – starts to get a little
wearing.


My day starts the night before, actually, when I prepare for the
morning ahead. I pack Maddie’s lunch – cut up her fruit
and put it in the fridge, cube her cheese, make her yogurt,
whatever – and measure out a snack for her as well. We lay
out her school clothes on her chair so there’s no argument
the next day. Then I’m finished until the next morning.

“Why did the chicken cross the
road?” Maddie asked the other night at dinner.


“I don’t know – why?” I dutifully queried.


Maddie smirked. “To get to Norton Elementary, fly up on the
roof, and look in through the skylight!”


Cora stared at Maddie. “I don’t get it.”


Yes, Maddie has hit that stage where she wants to tell jokes.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t understand what’s funny.

Most mornings when Maddie and I walk to
school we make a nature walk out of it; we listen for different
bird calls and look for ducks at the pond, anything to keep her
moving and looking forward. Our favorite days are those mornings
after it rains, when the earthworms are out in force in the
puddles, and yesterday was such a day: we spotted over a dozen
worms – a personal best – just walking to school
alone.

As you probably know (if only from reading
my blog), Friday was Earth Day. And apparently Maddie is not the
only kid in kindergarten who is environmentally conscious, because
she and her friends started a recycling club.


Officially named the Green Team.

This morning I woke up while it was still
dark, as usual, and got dressed and ready for the day. When I came
out of my room, I noticed Maddie’s door was open and her
reading light on, highly unusual for my heavy sleeper who requires
a military band to wake her up.


I peeked my head in and saw her lying fully dressed on her bed,
staring out the window at the intense blue sky. She was wearing an
Earth Day t-shirt and snuggling hard on her lovey. Without a word I
climbed into bed with her and curled up.


“Look at the color of the sky, Mom,” she said.
“It’s so deep. It’s really pretty. And the birds
are already starting to sing, even though it’s still dark! I
wonder what the sky looks like where the birds are sitting.”
Suddenly inspiration struck me.

Cora is sick with strep throat.


Again.


Multiple rounds of dry heaving going on.


Oh, and it's Brian's birthday.


Happy birthday honey!

When Maddie was born, my mother-in-law
said, “Now is when you build a tight white fence right around
their little bodies. And you protect them and keep them safe. And
then in a little while, you’ll tear down the fence and set it
back up again, a tiny bit further away from them. And then
you’ll spend the rest of your life moving the fence further
and further out. And it will be hard. Really hard.”


This was very depressing to me.


But I got what she was trying to say, and thought I understood it.
More space, give them their independence, leave them free to fail.
Blah blah blah.