Mail

Clean Baby

There's nothing quite like a little boy in the tub at the end of the day.

Nothing quite like scraped and dirty knees in warm soapy water.

Nothing like fine little baby hair getting rubbed down with powdery-smelling shampoo.

Nothing like clean and glistening skin as all the grime of the day is washed off.

Nothing like a tiny face peeking out from underneath a fresh, soft towel.

Nothing like lotion on their bare legs and feet as they kick on the changing table.

Nothing like the last diaper of the day and a clean shirt and shorts for bed.

Nothing like still damp hair that wants to poke up in all directions.

Nothing like the just-washed scent as your press your nose against their sweet, soft little head.

And there's nothing like them vomiting three times all over you, your clothes, their clothes, the dry-clean only area rug, and the bathroom floor as soon as you've let the water out of the tub.

Guess We've Been Reading Moe Willems...

"Owen, what does a bear say?"
"GRR!!!"
"Good job! What does a lion say?"
"Roar!!"
"That's great! How about...a kitty-cat?"
"Meow! Meow!"
"What would...a doggy say?"
"Woof! Woof!"
"Mmhmm, and how about a cow?"
"Mooo!"
"That's right...what about a horse?"
"Neigh!!!"
"And what would a pig say?"
"Gerald!!!"

Quick Hitters

I. Londinium
Thanks to Mom and Martha for posting their itinerary for the next two weeks. I'm not sure whether with the time difference you'd be in S. Croydon or London at this point (7:20 in the morning here) but I hope the travel is going smoothly and that we're going to see some pictures soon.

II. Can't Let Go?
Owen has been walking around all morning wearing James' winter coat. (His arms aren't long enough for his hands to come out the end, so he keeps on getting ticked when they're stuck.) He's also been repeatedly taking big mouthfuls of milk from his sippy cup, swishing them around, and then spitting them out on the floor. (The sippy cup has been taken away.) He's in a weird mood.

III. More Plumbing
I successfully repaired a leaky flange in our kitchen sink last night. (Or, at least, it's been successful so far. I suppose the sink could burst into flames at any moment.) I remember "helping" my Dad under the kitchen sink as a small child and thinking even at that size that the inside of a sink cabinet was far too small a place to work comfortably. It hasn't gotten any easier over time. In fact, I remember quite vividly sitting entirely inside the cabinet and "helping" turn a fitting with a wrench. (I wonder if I was supposed to be doing this or not?)

IV. Library Visit
James has never read Where the Wild Things Are. This library trip was a fruitful one. We also found and brought home several Peggy Rathman books that were unknown to us as she has rapidly turned into Owen's favorite author. (He only wants to read the two that he knows, though.)

V. Early Riser
Owen has been getting up way, way too early. As in, 6 AM when he sleeps in. And 5:30 yesterday. When James wakes up he lies in bed completely quietly until someone comes in his room to get him. Sometimes I wish he WOULD make some noise, because I'm afraid he just lies in bed listening to us making breakfast and coffee for an hour if he's up earlier than 7. Owen, on the other hand, does not lie in bed quietly. He starts a recital as soon as he's conscious, and it's all the same song (the Alphabet song) over and over again until someone gets him up. The child has marvelous projection and his enthusiasm for the tune never diminishes. Every once in a while he'll call out a parent's name repeatedly so that you know who he's performing for.

VI. Cheers
Last night at dinner the boys were wrapping up and both taking drinks from blue sippy cups filled with milk. They looked at each other, looked at their sippy cups, and then casually "clinked" them together. "Cheers" said James nonchalantly.

Rhetoric with James

Metonymy-reference to something or someone by naming one of its attributes

"#95 is the fastest car, he is winning the race."

Synecdoche-a whole is represented by one of its parts (genus named for species) or vice versa

"The spicy does not taste good on my tongue."

Tautologia-repetition of the same idea in different ways, but (often) in a way that is wearisome or unnecessary.

"I don't eat chili because it is too spicy and George says that he doesn't like it either."

Chiasmus-repetition of ideas in inverted order

"We should go outside after we have dessert. So, no more bites of chili but we should have chocolate, and then go outside. Yeah!"

Litotes-deliberate understatement, often expressing a thought by denying its opposite.

"We should not have chili again for a while. Maybe next year."

What Happened to My Desk?

-There are Curious George matching cards all over. Not the most surprising thing in the world, except that they are supposed to be put away in a box. In the basement. Under a rubbermaid full of clothes.

-Someone took all the caps off of my pens and markers and left them out. I can't find all the caps.

-When I opened up the computer the desktop was completely rearranged, the font was resized, and command prompt was open.

-My big mag-lite, which had been in the basement, was out and on.

-Trumpet mute in the trash can

-Looks like someone pulled pizza coupons out of the gift-card jar and attempted to eat them.


UPDATE:
While I was practicing down in the basement I heard a crash and a scream. Found James typing on the computer and Owen, who had apparently fallen off the chair, stuck in the trash can and unable to get out.

Highlights from OHEL

1. About Roger Ascham (1515-68)
The Schoolmaster, posthumously published in 1570, occupied the last years of Ascham's life. Its starting-point was a conversation in 1563 about some Eton boys who had run away 'for feare of beating.' This provoked from Ascham, to his lasting glory, a protest (I think the first in English) against cruelty in teaching.

2. On Reproducing Conversations
William Roper (1496-1578) in small compass produced a masterpiece. In narrative his prose may sometimes be a little heavy, but his dialogue is excellent. He shares with Boswell the power of giving to reported conversation that appearance of reality which we demand of conversations in fiction. The gift is extremely rare...and it has every right to be regarded as a literary gift. Roper also shares Boswell's humility; he will cast himself for the fool's part if the anecdote demands it.

3. Hooker on the Natural Law
The Ethnikes (albeit they had nod the right and perfite true knowlage of God) were endued with the knowlage of the lawe of nature. For it is no priuate lawe to a fewe or certain people but common to all; nor written in bokes but graffed in the heartes of men; not made by man but ordained of God; which we haue not learned, receaued, or redde but haue taken, sucked, and drawne it out of nature; wuherevnto we are not taught but made.

4. Thomas Wilson Coins a Phrase
The style is occasionally adorned with verbal tricks ('These be marmaides not merchants') or with alliteration ('As deafe as a doore nayle, as blynde as a bittle.')

5. CSL's Opinion of John Leland
His Latin poetry has been praised, but I cannot think that a man who would use such a metre as the hendecasyllable for a poem seven hundred lines long was really very sensitive.

6. William Harrison's Historical Sources
In some respects he was not very well qualified for the work. His account of Scotland is merely an Anglicization of Bellenden's Scots version of Boece. Even in England he was not a great traveller and researcher like Leland or Stow. He relies on many sources--Leland himself, Smith, Bale, Harman, Humphrey Lloyd, Dr. Caius On English Dogs, and that inaccurate but never uninteresting authority 'old men yet dwelling in the village where I remain.'

7. Early Roots of the Modern Novel
The novella, from which matter had often been borrowed before, enters English literature as a form with the work of Painter, Fenton, and Pettie. Of this form the modern critic is apt to make demands which it never attempted to satisfy: he is half angry with the authors for not developing it in the direction of the modern novel. But except in so far as it marks the appearance of story-telling naked and unashamed, story-telling without roots in legend or supposed history, the novella seems to have little connexion with later developments of fiction. It is an elaboration of the oral anecdote. Interest is concentrated on what happened: character, sentiment, manners, and atmosphere exist only for the sake of the event. In English its historical function was not to produce higher forms of fiction but to serve as a dung or compost for the popular drama. Its anecdotal character perhaps explains its tendency to become either licentious or bloodcurdling.

Food Notes

One of my small triumphs over the past year has been, after many years of unsuccessful attempts, developing a true taste and appreciation for olives. I've always strongly identified with my Greek heritage, and the inability to appreciate a good olive seemed like a serious threat to my credibility as a good (very small) part-Greek. I think that what finally helped me over the edge was a noticeable increase in the amount of olive oil that J and I have been using in food prep recently.

"Do you think we're using too much?"
"No, it's way healthier to prepare lots of food from scratch and see how much oil and salt is going in on your own rather than buying it pre-prepared and to have no idea."

Either way, we've used a lot of olive oil recently. Still, it's hard to argue with those roasted brussel sprouts.

It would not surprise anyone that knows him that James does not like olives. This is a child who has only eaten two different types of cereals for breakfast every morning for the last three years of his life, and would certainly veto any alternative breakfast (except MAYBE pancakes, on a special occasion) in favor of these two cereals. James eats the same sandwich for lunch every day. And at dinner, no matter what we've prepared for him, he uses the exact same routine of excusing himself to the bathroom, playing with his drink, and attempting to bargain for less bites, to get himself out of eating anything that isn't a ham and cheese sandwich, sugary cereal, or dessert.

We make spectacular food for him, really. Quinoa salad with black beans and fresh cilantro. Braised lentils with mushrooms. Homemade soups and chilis, casseroles, wraps, decadent pastas, chicken dishes, and all manner of fruits and vegetables.

"Hey, you know what my favorite food is? A ham and cheese sandwich with spicy mustard cut into triangles."

Similarly, it would not surprise anyone that knows him that Owen DOES like olives. He wrinkled his nose the first time he tried one, because I'm pretty sure he was expecting (despite my warning) that it was going to be a grape. But once he figured out what to expect, he downed about six of the pimento-stuffed green olives in a row before I cut him off.

He's one of those kids that will eat just about anything, as a matter of fact. That quinoa black bean salad? He eats it by the fistful. Pickles, peppers, and onions are no problem. He would eat bread at every meal, and he's an accomplished cracker thief. (You really can't leave a bag of chips or crackers open anywhere around him. He'll have pushed a chair up to the table and be into the bag before you turn around.)

As I said, his love of olives wasn't particularly surprising. But I did think maybe he'd draw the line at a lemon. Turns out, no. He made a surprised face and his first taste of the lemon half I offered him the other night, then immediately dove into it again and carried it around with him sucking it (and squeezing the juice out all over the front of him) for about the next hour.

Bitter doesn't bother Owen, and that goes for coffee also. A few days ago while J was doing dishes in the kitchen she heard a satisfied "MMMmmm!" coming from the living room. Owen was standing on the chair at my desk taking down gulps of her old coffee, and then typing on the open laptop. (I have to unplug the laptop and put it in a drawer that he can't get open nowadays. When Owen isn't getting into it on his own James is opening it up for him and attempting to teach him numbers and letters by the "bang and mash" method of touch-typing.)

Owen was removed from the computer and and coffee, of course, but we found out later that afternoon, after I'd left part of a cup up on the table, that he doesn't particularly care whether he takes his coffee with creamer or just straight black. He thought mine was pretty good too.