The bashful graduate

Anna graduated preschool last Friday. As much as this child loves attention, she does not enjoy the spotlight being thrust upon her, especially when there's been a lot of build up. The pressure causes anxiety and while she doesn't have the spectacular meltdowns she had a year or so ago, she does kind of shut down when she feels overwhelmed.

So she sang her song with her class, participated in her skit and accepted her "diploma." But that was it. I barely got her to pose for this photo taken on my BlackBerry before she insisted that all fussing come to an end. "Stop being happy," she ordered.

She did however accept Grandma Mel's offer for lunch anywhere she wanted to go. Anna's choice for this important day? Bob Evans of course. Somewhere around the time the chocolate chip pancakes arrived she even allowed me to be happy.

Generosity

Anna is raiding the kitchen cabinets. She's on some kind of growth spurt and has basically eaten me out of house and home. She raises up on her tippy toes and reaches for a box of crackers.

"Can I finish these?" she asks, even as she plunges her hands into the almost-empty box.

"Sure..." I say to her back as she disappears into the family room.

"Rachel, do you want some of these?" I hear Anna ask her sister. I smile to myself at Anna's offer to share. She's such a good big sister, I think. Then she continues.

"You can have three crackers and that's all. And do NOT whine and cry like a little baby if you want more."

Today's game

Anna: Let's play dogs.
Rachel: Yeah, you be Charlie and I'll be Annabelle the stupid dog!
Anna: Oh yes! (barking)
Rachel (giggling): She's so stupid.
Anna (barking and panting): And she's the angel of death!

A dog fixation and a few Torah lessons can be a dangerous combination.

Rachel's new favorite word and other scenes

One afternoon I find my girls in the family room watching a movie, one child sitting in a cardboard box, the other crawling through one. Rachel pulls a broken box over her body and announces that it is her new outfit.

"My outfit is stupid," she tells us.

*******

Anna was recently given a Hannah Montana balloon. One side of the balloon features a picture of Miley Whatsherface, the other side is Hannah. Rachel is walking around with that balloon, chatting away to it and acting out little scenes.

She comes to me and says, "Mommy, my baby has two faces!" She tugs on the string of the balloon and tells me, "But just one leg."

After a minute she adds, "Mommy, my baby is stupid."

*******

I drag myself into the kitchen to find a snack for Anna who, judging the way she's been eating for the past month, is about to become three inches taller. I have a bit of a cold and my head hurts and my back aches as I stretch to reach the box of granola bars in my cabinet. I look down at my salivating oldest child, her hands twitching as she watches me reach into the box. "Please ask your sister if she wants a granola bar."

Without moving an inch - or taking her eyes off of the food - Anna screams: "RACHEL! DOYOUWANTAGRANOLABAR?!"

*******

Just when I think I'm totally losing my mind I give Rachel a bath - a task that would normally send me over the edge completely. Tonight though she gives me a break and is unusually calm and complaint-free. I start to relax when she "swims" up to the side of the tub and places her wet, broadly smiling face an inch from mine. She studies my face for a long moment and then giggles. "Ahhh, we have the same eyes." She pats my cheek with her wet hand and "swims" away.

She didn't even call me stupid.

I fully admit I have only myself to blame

This morning my baby stood in the doorway of the kitchen and bellowed the following at me:

"HEL-LOOO! I am still waiting for my water!"

Sigh.

Overheard in the three-year-old classroom

When I first started working with three-year-olds I was warned about the pitfalls - the tantrums, the messes, the inordinate amount of bodily fluids. I've been lucky enough to have amazing kids in my classes though - bright, sweet, adorable and endlessly entertaining. One of the best parts of my job is the moments of unexpected hilarity, courtesy of the preschool mind.

Girl 1: I like your dress.
Girl 2: Thank you. It's MINE.

*******

Boy (holding toy phone): Emergency, emergency, come quick, my baby is sick!
Girl (runs across room and sits in front of Boy)
Boy: This is only for the emergency.
Girl: I AM emergency.

*******

Boy: Did you know my Grandpa?
Teacher: No, I didn't.
Boy: He died.
Teacher: I'm sorry to hear that.
Boy: Yeah. Hashem killed him.

*******

Boy (exiting bathroom stall): You know, when I just go pee-pee I only wash my hands with water.
Teacher: Well toilets have lots of germs, so whenever you touch a toilet you should use soap.
Boy: But when I just touch my penis it's ok.

*******

And finally, this gem, shared with me by a parent:

Boy: Guess what? Today we learned about vulva!
Mom: Really. What did you learn about it?
Boy: Well, it's really dangerous. And hot. And you never ever touch it.
Mom: Ok... so, where do you find this vulva?
Boy: In volcanoes.

And this is four?

The past 48 hours have been rough for Rachel. I'm not sure why exactly, I'm just going by her general demeanor. Which has been cranky. Frustrated. Extremely put out. Nothing has made this child happy for days.

Last night Rachel's bath water was too cold and then she didn't want to sit in the available spot in the tub. Then she complained about the body wash and then, oh my goodness, I did not hand her the washcloth fast enough. As she was expressing her displeasure she waved her hands around - the better to make her point - and her right hand splashed into the water. At which point she screamed, "I don't want to be WET!" Which made me laugh. I'm only human.

My unfortunate parenting misstep caused an F4 level storm of rage to spew forth from my baby. Anna glanced over at the tantrum going on next to her and calmly asked if she could get out. I'm pretty sure she actually rolled her eyes as stepped past her sister out of the tub.

Twenty minutes later the whining continues, with some foot stomping thrown in for variety. I seek refuge in Girl Scout Cookies and get caught. Rachel sees me sneaking one in the dark kitchen and immediately begins her interrogation.

"WHAT is THAT?" she demands and holds out her hand, somehow expecting to be rewarded for two hours of screaming. I take a deep breath and tell her she may have one as soon as she eats her dinner. I think briefly about fleeing before the next onslaught but I am too late.

"I don't want dinner! It's yucky and disgusting! I don't want you to talk to me! Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! I don't want..." Suddenly, and for the tiniest second, she stops. She turns around and marches back to me. "I WANT YOU!" She throws herself onto my leg.

Four on Rachel looks so very different than it did on Anna.