Presents!

I bought a birthday present for one of my favorite little people.  I’m feeling a bit guilty about it as it is one of those gifts that can be kind of annoying for the adults involved.  Honestly, a lot of presents for kids are annoying in some capacity; even Legos lose their allure when stepped on with a bare foot.   Regardless of what the parents think, I think I got the little guy a pretty kickass birthday gift.  In addition to catering to his interests, it also hits on a developmental area in which he has “potential for further growth and development.”   At least I didn’t get him a drum set; he would not like that anyway.

When I Grow Up…

Oy, it’s been a busy week – both at work and at home.  However, according to The Boo, my future plans involve changes to at least one of those places.

Scene: The playroom, blocks of various colors and shapes are strewn about, Boo and I are in command of a large fleet of trucks.

Boo: When I grow up I am going to drive a dump truck.

Me: That sounds great buddy!  What sort of projects will you work on?

Boo: Well, Nanny, when you grow up, you are going to drive a digger and we are going to make foundations for big, big buildings.  Together, like a team.

At the time I found it too cute and sweet to ask, but now I’m sort of wondering: We clearly will need (at least) a cement mixer to make these foundations…who’s going to operate that?  Also?  I don’t really plan to grow up..

Eventual Kids and Grammar

Some of my eventual-kid plans get inflicted on my current, not-my kids.  Case in point: grammar.  One of my biggest pet peeves is the syntax (which is generally poor) of children’s books and television.  I am not sure who thought it would be a good idea to take a group of people (because kids are people, yo) who are just learning language and model poor language.  Sounds like a recipe to make language learning even harder – like pronouns aren’t hard enough on their own.  Try to explain pronouns to someone with limited verbal skills and comprehension sometime.  For additional fun and frustration, assume that person has a maximum attention span of twenty seconds – void immediately if there’s a garbage truck sighting, candy nearby, or anything remotely shiny/sparkly catches their eye.

Boo and I rarely watch television, which takes care of that problematic influence pretty handily.  It’s hard enough for a toddler to figure out the first person, without shoving a furry red monster with a big orange nose and third-person speaking tendencies down their throats. I mean, yes, it’s an easy shove, but still: it’s hard enough.  I understand keeping the language basic, for comprehension, but basic doesn’t have to mean wrong. 

My solution is to change things; I do think I know better than the professionals.  Boo can’t read, and if he could, I’d be less concerned with his developing speech – if for no other reason than he had the language ability to read at two.  I’d read (ha) into that as him possessing some natural ability in that area of intelligence.  When I read to Boo, I change things.  A lot.  Since I’m consistent with my changes, he’s still unaware and doesn’t complain.  As a mental exercise for myself, I try to keep my changes true to the characters and their stories, and rhyming bits still rhyming.  (When I’m desperate, the latter involves two changes.)  I don’t know if there’s some sort of standard to amputate the –ly on adverbs in children’s books, but it’s pretty much an epidemic.  I religiously replace them.  I dutifully fix them. We might not watch Elmo on the tv, but the kid has a bunch of books about him.  Any Elmo read by me is a master of pronoun usage and speaks in the first person. 

Firsts and Milestones

One of the great joys of being a nanny is the privilege of sharing in “firsts.”  There are baby book firsts, such as first word; intentional firsts, such as first time ice skating; and cutesy firsts, such as first playground kiss.  As with any position, there is an element of tact.  Not many parents dream of coming home after the market takes a nosedive to hear that they missed their baby’s first steps.  The parents will always be the parents, naturally, but when a kiddo spends the bulk of their awake time with a non-parent, it is pretty inevitable that that person will be there for some of their milestones.

Obviously anytime safety is involved, I believe that it’s my duty to inform the parent(s) – e.g. Hey, yo: Your kiddo can pull herself up. It’s REALLY time to lower that crib mattress. For the most part though, there’s an unwritten protocol for each type of first.

 

Grocery Shopping With the Boo

Boo and I spend a lot of time rhyming these days.  We aspire toward using up with legitimate words when we rhyme, but there’s some flexibility – the kid is two.  We go grocery shopping for his family at least once, usually twice, per week.  One such occasion was this afternoon, after his nap.  While grocery shopping, we play a lot of “I spy” and he “helps” me with our list – picking things, counting out a specific quantity, “reminding” me what color things (e.g. spinach) are, etc.  I talk a lot (no, really!) so between the two of us, there’s pretty much constant dialogue.  Today, I was looking through the chicken and Boo spontaneously bust out with, “NANNY!*   MEAT.  NEAT.  Meat, neat, meat, neat.  Neat.  Meat.  Meat is neat. Meat, neat.  Neat, meat…”  It went on, as did my laughter.

Sometimes I secretly wonder if he’s more “my” kid than my future offspring will be.

*Except he used my actual name.

Fashion Sense

Man, oh man, do I want this shirt:

Raptor Shirt: NomNomNom

 Seriously, I think it’s pretty sweet and I’ve been meaning to wear more green.  I could wear it to work AND afterwork.  Imagine:

“Boo, please help pick up your trains…OR MY ARMS WILL CHOMP YOU.”   Seriously, forget that 1-2-3 Magic and timeout biznass.  Chomping.

Or…

“Boo, Raptor says: EAT YOUR VEGGIES OR I WILL EAT YOU RARRRRRRR.”

I can see some real workday potential.  Like, I-could-probably-claim-it-on-my-taxes-as-a-business-expense potential. 

Or for after hours…

“What do you mean you are out of playoff tickets?  Is it because I am a raptor?  Do you have some sort of raptor-discrimination policy?  I don’t see anything posted prohibiting raptors…”

And a woman’s gotta eat…

“Oh, is that the last slider on the buffet?  Note that I am a raptor and a hungry raptor is not a good thing.  Perhaps you should head over to the edamame.”

Really my only debate is what size to get.

Beyond Jennifer and Jason: A Kid Tip

The Boo and I have been spending A LOT of time together lately, meaning we are also having A LOT of conversations.   Like most of his peers, Boo is starting to figure out that there is a whole big world out there and there are questions he can ask about every aspect of that whole big world. 

To Boo, things are as alive as people – they feel, have personalities, and their basic needs must be met.  He does not yet discriminate amongst nouns.  Neither marketing nor the media help much with clarifying this.  Trains and cars have more personality than half of the people whom I know.   Bugs aspire towards loftier goals than three-quarters of the people whom I know.  A Velveteen Rabbit loves truer than 97% of the world’s population.  Monkeys, well, monkeys do a heck of a lot more than eat bananas and throw their poo.   It’s all very real to Boo.

Cooking With Kids: A Figure-Maintaining Tip

Cooking with kids is a great way to kill both a morning and a diet/hourglass figure.  However, I have come up with a foolproof way to cook with Boo WITHOUT gaining an ounce.  If I screw it up, I’ll lose weight!  It’s like magic.  Also, for my purposes here, I’m going to use “cook” to cover both ”cook” and “bake” – it’s easier for us all, although I do know the difference.  We happen to do both at la Casa de Boo.

Boo loves to cook.  On the days when one (or both) of us are a bit (or a lot) grumpy or the weather is horrid, cooking has prevented one (or both) of us from being defenestrated.  When I ask Boo if he wants to cook, he always lights up and is immediately agreeable.  It’s the only way I know to guarantee a “yes” out of this toddler, whose tracking occasionally gets stuck on the word “no.”

We probably cook once or twice per week.  It’s also a sure-fire way that Boo will eat something; the kid takes pride and interest in what he helps create.  Anyway, while we rarely bake sweets, I’m the type who likes to taste pretty much every viable ingredient, along with the work in progress. Something I learned about myself when I was asked for recipes that Boo and I make is that I change a LOT of stuff.  Some of my changes are due to what is on hand, others are health-based, and yet others are based on what I think will taste best.  Part of my tasting is to adapt recipes.  This is a bit of problem when people ask me for recipes as I rarely write down what I change and my measurements are generally amounts like ’some’, a ‘bit’, and a ‘smidge’.

Occupational Hazard

I find a lot of interesting “treats” in my pockets when I do laundry.   One of my “tricks” with the kid when he finds something small that he can’t possibly risk losing is to offer to put it in my pocket and he can “remind me” when he wants it back.  (Sometimes I just take it out if it is an annoying shape/size/gross.)  I just threw in a load of laundry with half a dozen pairs of pants.  Treasures from my pockets included: environmentally-friendly chapstick (mine), fifty-seven cents, two miniature Uno cards (blue 8 and green reverse), a hotel key card, three tissues (at least two unused), two raisins, and a sticker of a bus.  I kept the money and the chapstick; the rest went to the trash.

i’d make a really smart toddler

Boo is one of those kids who attends “classes”…note the plural and feign shock.  One of our classes is at a chain – heavily scripted curriculum, peppy (and sometimes pitchy) teachers, lots of bright colors, constant product placement, and frequent reassurance that your active participation with your (or “your”) child could potentially nab them a spot at Harvard some day…or better yet, whatever the most coveted local preschool happens to be. 

I am getting kind of sick of this class.  However, Boo absolutely ADORES it and they have an awesome open play schedule.  Still, I’ve been trying to convince him that it would be SO MUCH MORE FUN to spend our Tuesday mornings at soccer or art or a cooking class.  The kid’s usual response is to break into one of the songs from this class.  My least favorite involves the instructor banging on the multi-colored mat, while singing a modified version of “We Will Rock You” with lines like “Givin’ you kisses all over yo’ face!”  

Straight from the company’s webpage, the purpose of this class is to: Stretch the imagination through creative play to support symbolic thinking, language development and social interaction. This class is suitable for toddlers. Obviously I’m REALLY good at this fucking class.  Each week there is a theme around which the activities revolve – horses, monkeys, construction, fire fighters, cars, dogs, post office, farm, etc.  There are props and songs and I’m pretty adept at ad libbing and interacting with Boo.  Do you know why?  BECAUSE THIS IS A CLASS DESIGNED TO PROMOTE SKILLS THAT ARE DEVELOPMENTALLY APPROPRIATE FOR TWO YEAR OLDS TO BE BUILDING.  I was two a very long time ago and have been honing these skills for decades.  Ask me about my musical theater phase sometime.