Yet another freezing rain onslaught last night, coupled with mountains of snow (the snow on each side of the driveway is again taller than me--taller than hubby as well, actually). The good news was, the buses for our schools were cancelled. I decided to take a "family responsibility day" and stayed home with a delighted Spills.
We didn't make custard. We did make corn chowder from scratch, and had it for lunch. Spilly is getting better and better at measuring things out and pouring them. She has also discovered that she does not like raw potato.
We practised writing things. We took a ballet class led by me (no mean feat, considering I don't know the first thing about ballet). We watched Finding Nemo for the first time and talked a lot about the death of Nemo's mother.
At lunch, while being Sanjaya, Spilly treated me to an extended musical lecture about the solar system, sung from beginning to end in an American Idol style. Never has the solar system sounded so hip and current. I kept a solemn face throughout, even when it morphed in the last few minutes into the song "Hollywood." Technically Hollywood is in the solar system so I guess it fit the song.
The highlight of the day by far was the marathon reading session, broken into palatable chunks. We dug out one of the original Raggedy Ann stories by Johnny Gruelle (I think that's his name), first published in 1918. It took a few hours to get through the whole thing, especially when you factor in questions and commentary from Spills. It was delightful sitting together on the couch with the fire roaring, and the snowstorm roaring, and having a small person nestled in close. And when we had finally finished, we went and found Spilly's own Raggedy Ann and Andy, handmade for her by her Grandma (complete with the embroidered "I Love You" on the heart) and presented to me at my baby shower.
Spills held them with some awe and asked softly, "Do you think that toys really come to life when kids are sleeping?"
"I have never been quick enough to catch them," I said. "But I keep trying."
"I keep trying too."
Showing posts with label American Idol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American Idol. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Bathtime and Sanjaya
My four year old, Spilly, is having a conversation with Sanjaya Malakar while sitting in the bath tub. He is squeaking in a high falsetto, and so is she. From what I can tell, they are discussing her plastic cow, who is wearing a stretchy squid toy around its waist. Every so often, I can hear things being thrown around.
All right, so Sanjaya is not actually in the tub. But he might as well be, because he is certainly talking up a storm in there. Spilly has quite a thing for Sanjaya, after meeting him by accident last year around this time, in our living room, well after bedtime. She'd wanted to see what we were doing. We were watching American Idol, and as the evil fates would have it, Sanjaya was performing at the time.
She stood in awe, clutching her stuffed pets Monty and Ribbon, obviously wondering why we hadn't told her that someone so marvelously talented came on television after she went to bed at night. After that, we taped an episode for her and she watched him perform over and over again (without watching the judges' commentary, of course, which might have spoiled the magic). She also started talking to him, and he began talking back. And singing, and dancing in our hallway. And having outrageous adventures, all of which Spilly requested in her reading chair at night, when the lights were out, as the last ritualized step in the long road to bed.
From the point of view of parental peace, we know we shouldn't have taped that first episode. We also know that we probably should not have driven our kid six hours into the USA in order to watch Sanjaya perform live, and should definitely not have purchased the Sanjaya poster and fridge magnet that adorn our house. The toy guitar and microphone were a big mistake as well.
And now, almost a year later, we are still paying the price, because we share our house daily with Sanjaya. He also comes with us in the car and probably hangs out in Spilly's junior kindergarten class too. Well, he and Buddha, and the Beatles, who are also favourites.
All right, so Sanjaya is not actually in the tub. But he might as well be, because he is certainly talking up a storm in there. Spilly has quite a thing for Sanjaya, after meeting him by accident last year around this time, in our living room, well after bedtime. She'd wanted to see what we were doing. We were watching American Idol, and as the evil fates would have it, Sanjaya was performing at the time.
She stood in awe, clutching her stuffed pets Monty and Ribbon, obviously wondering why we hadn't told her that someone so marvelously talented came on television after she went to bed at night. After that, we taped an episode for her and she watched him perform over and over again (without watching the judges' commentary, of course, which might have spoiled the magic). She also started talking to him, and he began talking back. And singing, and dancing in our hallway. And having outrageous adventures, all of which Spilly requested in her reading chair at night, when the lights were out, as the last ritualized step in the long road to bed.
From the point of view of parental peace, we know we shouldn't have taped that first episode. We also know that we probably should not have driven our kid six hours into the USA in order to watch Sanjaya perform live, and should definitely not have purchased the Sanjaya poster and fridge magnet that adorn our house. The toy guitar and microphone were a big mistake as well.
And now, almost a year later, we are still paying the price, because we share our house daily with Sanjaya. He also comes with us in the car and probably hangs out in Spilly's junior kindergarten class too. Well, he and Buddha, and the Beatles, who are also favourites.
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