hallowe'en

"Mommy, why do they call it a tutu?...
                    Why don't they just call it a four?"

(And she hasn't even learned multiplication yet.)

Happy Hallowe'en!

daily verses

Since Naiya started in Parent/Child classes at her Waldorf school, we've been collecting all manner of fingerplays and verses.  Sometimes I share those I find in various collections with her and sometimes she brings home those she hears and sings in her classes each day to share with me.  (If you're interested in this sort of thing, you can view those we've gathered in the Verses and Fingerplays tabs above.)  Today she brought this one home.  It was accompanied by a sweet little tune that I'm not able to offer here, but I thought some of you home-schoolers (or those who live in a constant winter battle with mud and debris) would appreciate for content nonetheless.

When I come in from outside play

I take my shoes off right away

I put them in my cubby so

This is where they always go...

This is where they rest just so.

one down, nineteen to go

That little guy had been wigglin' for a while.   We went camping over the weekend and after an ear of corn-on-the-cob it was barely clinging to its familiar home.  (Should you have a wiggler that needs moving along, might I recommend corn-on-the-cob?)  As we drove home the next day Naiya casually spoke up from the back seat, "Mommy, I think my tooth just fell out."

She says this is what makes her "big girl".  She tucked her special mini box under her pillow and fell asleep dreaming of fairies.  She didn't even want her usual nighttime snuggle.

In the morning she found the fairies had left a sprinkling of dust on the nightstand as well as a special stone bead and coin in exchange for her tiny tooth.

nowhere is nowhere

 Laying in bed waking up this morning Naiya and I were staring at the ceiling. 
"Mommy, where is nowhere?" she asked me. 
I'm still a little groggy. 
Before I answer she says, "Is everywhere somewhere or is there even a nowhere?"

Indeed, my dear child.  Indeed.

vocabulary bombs

"Mommy, can we play bomb cellar?" Naiya just asked me.
I'm a little taken aback by this question.  Where on earth did she hear about bomb cellars?  I fear someone has been telling her frightening stories.  Maybe, as is often the case, she just overheard someone talking and so is trying out some new vocabulary.
"How do we play that?" I ask, worried about where this is going.
She looks at me a if I'm a bit dim witted.  "I'll go get the balm," she replies, "and you be the seller." 
"Oh," I dumbly respond as she runs in the next room for her lip balm collection.

the earth's population is actually slightly more than 50% female

   When Naiya was just a baby and I read books to her more for my own entertainment than for her edification, I began to notice the lack of girls (or female characters, animal, person or otherwise) in children’s literature.  At first I thought it must just be my particular selection of books, but as our library expanded and I made a concerted effort to acquire stories about or including female characters, I discovered that the deficiency was pervasive.  Dare I say that the omissions began to feel sinister?  I couldn’t believe that the choice of the masculine pronoun for almost every animal that wasn’t a mother and nearly every character who played an active role in the advancement of the simplest plot was intentional by the authors of even the most beautiful of stories. 
   Of course, it is part of our language to refer to the unknown in the masculine.  I hadn’t reflected upon it much before, but I soon began to notice that every bird, squirrel, spider, slug and cat we saw as we encountered them on various walks and hikes around our neighborhood were referred to, almost without exception, as “he” or “him” by all of the adults present, including myself.  No one gave it a second thought.
   Out of curiosity, I began charting the books we owned as well as those I checked out from the library.  This wasn’t a scientifically random study or anything, but I found that for every female in children’s literature, there were, on average, two to three male characters sharing the pages with her.  If the roles of mothers and grandmothers were excluded from the female list, that number doubled!
   So what does this mean (if it means anything at all)?  The more I considered it, the more profound and important it began to seem. 
   Children learn by imitation.  This is a basic tenet of modern psychology and an important part of Waldorf education.  Children learn and grow by imitating the adults in their environment that they love and respect.  (They likewise, but to a lesser degree, imitate their friends and siblings and any person who randomly makes a strong impression upon them.)  The cultural knowledge and behavior of children also comes from the activities and impressions that influence them on a daily basis.  Books and stories, for many children, are an integral part of modeling morality, basic behavior and gender roles. So what happens consciously and unconsciously, especially for small girls, when they are so under-represented in the books they read and love?
  As I started researching this topic, I came across this article by Manjari Singh (which can be read in full here):

Numerous studies analyzing children's literature find the majority of books dominated by male figures. For example, Ernst (1995) did an analysis of titles of children's books and found male names represented nearly twice as often as female names. She also found that even books with female or gender-neutral names in their titles in fact, frequently revolve around a male character. Many classics and popular stories where girls are portrayed usually reflect stereotypes of masculine and feminine roles. Such gender stereotypes are prevalent not only in mainstream children's books but also in Newbery and Caldecott medal winners. Children's books frequently portray girls as acted upon rather than active (Fox, 1993). Girls are represented as sweet, naive, conforming, and dependent, while boys are typically described as strong, adventurous, independent, and capable (Ernst, 1995; Jett-Simpson & Masland, 1993). Boys tend to have roles as fighters, adventurers and rescuers, while girls in their passive role tend to be caretakers, mothers, princesses in need of rescuing, and characters that support the male figure (Temple, 1993). Often, girl characters achieve their goals because others help them, whereas boys do so because they demonstrate ingenuity and/or perseverance. If females are initially represented as active and assertive, they are often portrayed in a passive light toward the end of the story. Girl characters who retain their active qualities are clearly the exception (Rudman, 1995). Thus, studies indicate that not only are girls portrayed less often than boys in children's books, but both genders are frequently presented in stereotypical terms as well.

Many researchers and authors argue that readers identify with characters of their own gender in books. Therefore, the relative lack of girl characters in texts can limit the opportunity for girls to identify with their gender and to validate their place in society.

The manner in which genders are represented in children's literature impacts children's attitudes and perceptions of gender-appropriate behavior in society. Sexism in literature can be so insidious that it quietly conditions boys and girls to accept the way they 'see and read the world,' thus reinforcing gender images (Fox, 1993). This reinforcement predisposes children to not question existing social relationships. At the same time, however, books containing images that conflict with gender stereotypes provide children the opportunity to re-examine their gender beliefs and assumptions. Thus, texts can provide children with alternative role models and inspire them to adopt more egalitarian gender attitudes.

Gender stereotypical roles are constraining to both genders. Just as girls are trapped in passive and whiny roles, boys and men are rarely described as people demonstrating emotions of sadness and fear, having hobbies/occupations that are not stereotypically male and in roles where they aren't competing or meeting high expectations. These stereotypes limit boys' and girls' freedom to express themselves (Fox, 1993; Rudman, 1995) and pressure them to behave in ways that are 'gender appropriate' rather than ways best suited to their personality.

   There is much that I do to ensure that my daughter grows up in an environment of freedom.  The way we play, the way we create, the absence of media and adult influences in her life are all a part of just allowing her to become herself without many external dictates.  These days when I tell stories or perform puppet shows for Naiya, nearly all the characters are female.  Likewise, when I refer to critters and furry friends we spot on our outdoor adventures, they’re all “she” or “her”.  (Since everyone else pretty much exclusively uses the masculine pronouns I figure together we’re creating a balance that is more accurate.)  What though of our love of books?  It’s not that this issue hasn’t been addressed.  We have come across a number of really great collections of tales of powerful, mischievous, adventurous girls and women (though these are mostly for older children).  But they are certainly the exception and they’re marketed as just what they are.  What hasn’t really shifted is just a general inclusion (without specific marketed mention) of more girls (and more bold and active girls) in mainstream little stories.  Even our favorite nighttime reading (written by a wonderful Waldorf teacher) contains the ratio of feminine to masculine characters I mentioned above. 
   I’m not sure what to do with this knowledge.  I have mentioned these statistics to friends of mine and nearly everyone is surprised at their own unconscious creation of a world that is inaccurately 70 - 80% male.  I guess I’d just like to spread a bit of awareness.  Perhaps together, we’ll alter our biases just a little at a time and, in so doing, help our daughters (and sons) see and live in a world less shackled by our own limiting vision.

alternate reality

It's like I'm living in some alternative world.

I don't know exactly how this occurred but as I was putting away dishes and making myself a cup of coffee just now, Naiya came in for second breakfast.  Only this time she didn't say, "Mommy, I'm hungry...what can I have?... Mommy, get my dish... Can you pour the juice?... Mommy, I need a napkin..."  Instead she pulled her kitchen stand over to the cupboard, found a bowl and a cup, put them on her shelf near the floor, poured a bowl of cereal, opened the refrigerator and filled both bowl and cup with milk, got a spoon from the drawer and walked outside to enjoy her meal in the garden.

I watched her silently dumbfounded through the entire process.  She didn't even look at me!

It was life changing.

finger plays

Since the time Naiya was a small baby we have played with rhyme, song and hand gesture games.  We've collected a number of what are often called "finger plays" over the years and I am so delighted to discover those I've not heard before (especially when my dear child is the one to bring them to me!)
A few weeks back Naiya brought this one home from school.  (She was so excited for a chance to be the teacher...)

Shoemaker

Shoemaker, shoemaker, make me a shoe

Have it ready by half past two

Sometimes red and sometimes brown

Is it up or is it down?

Before she begins she finds a special small object, usually a pretty stone and holds it secretly in one fist.  Then holding both fists closed she taps one on top of the other, switching back and forth as she sings.  At the end I then have to guess which hand holds the special stone.  Whether I'm right or wrong, she giggles with glee at her game and wants to perform it many more times.

Click below for more fingerplays...

my weakness

We were driving to a restaurant this evening and Naiya, in typical four year old fashion, asked how long it would be until we got there.
"About ten minutes," I told her.
"Mommy, can you grab that restaurant and bring it closer so it won't take so long?" she inquired. 
I thought this such an intriguing idea that it took me a minute to answer. "You mean bring the restaurant to our home?" I finally asked.
"Not into our house," she replied, "just closer."
Before I could respond, she reconsidered. "No mommy, I don't think your arms are strong enough."

rest-aurant

Around here everything turns into play.  We play at washing dishes.  We play clothes shop to get dressed.  We play restaurant to set the table and get everyone in their seats for a meal.  That last one especially, is make-believe she embraces every day, several times.  It's one of the ways we get things done that need to be done.

This morning Naiya was a little cold so she brought her blanket down and laid snuggled up on the couch reading a book while I made her oatmeal. We hadn't spoken of the game, but when I came in to tell her it was breakfast time, her response was, "I like this restaurant.  They even have somewhere to rest."

my super power

We've been discussing the commanding and bossy nature of the four-year-old.  Like our daughter, children of other friends of ours exert intense pressure upon their caregivers to constantly play with them in very precise and demanding ways.  In one recent conversation we were talking about strategies that both appease and fulfill the child's needs as well as allow our requirements for household demands and chores to be met.

Having a daily/weekly/seasonal and annual rhythm helps a great deal.  A familiar pattern in which children (and parents) know what to expect is comforting and helps children of all ages to thrive.  (I'll post about our own rhythm and its undeniable impact on our everyday well-being later.)  Even with patterns and a kind of "soft-schedule" in place though, challenges, of course, arise...

A specific demand often made in our house is that we sit and actively participate in some particular imaginative play for extended periods of time.  Our roles are often spelled out for us very precisely and sometimes even our dialogue is prescribed.  "Now you say..." she tells us...  "Now walk over there and..."

I usually find engaging in her play fascinating.  It's an expression of her inner world that I get to see come to life.  Also, sometimes I just love to play.  But I'm also the mother.  I take care of this wonderful child and I'm likewise a cook, a house cleaner, a launderer, a grocery shopper, a gardener, a payer of bills, a craft organizer, an activity planner and a wife to a hard-working husband.  I've got a few other things to do!  But lately, and this is the challenge so many seem to be having, Naiya will sometimes scream and cry when I attempt to extricate myself from what it is she wishes me to do.

Suggestions given in a recent discussion included 1) investing a really present 3 to 5 minutes with a child before then returning to necessary adult tasks (it's amazing how even a few moments of being really present will fill a child in a way that they can then play for longer stretches on their own) and 2) the idea of along-side play.  This means that while I, for example, wash dishes, Naiya plays at a similar task with a small bowl of soapy water and a bowl and a cup that she can wash herself.   Likewise she can do her own version of dusting as I dust, folding napkins as I fold laundry and so on.

These are both effective tools, especially the latter.  With it I accomplish a great deal and Naiya both embraces her "solitary" tandem play and learns the value of real work as a part of our household.  Sometimes, however, it doesn't seem to work at all.

Yesterday was one of those times.

I had dishes piled on every kitchen surface, crumbs all over the floor, colored rice in every nook of the great room and Naiya just wanted me to sit next to her and wash the one cup in her bowl of soapy water over and over and over.  She was on the verge of tears whenever I tried to leave her side.

This is when I introduced what has proven to be the most magical tool I have.  I have slipped this one from my bag of tricks over the years time and time again yet, surprisingly, I am stunned by its effect on each occasion.

I sang.

Yup.  That's my mommy superpower.
Let it be known.  Let it be spread across the land.
Singing transforms our world nearly every time.

And these are not clever songs I've memorized.  I don't have in my catalog a song for every occasion.  I just make them up on the spot.  Sometimes they're sweet and funny.  Sometimes they're completely absurd.  Occasionally they rhyme but mostly not.  Honestly, they're usually a little dumb.  And it doesn't matter.

Yesterday's went like this:

Here we go washing, washing, washing

Washing all our dishes

Here we go washing, washing, washing

Making dishes clean

Not at all magical, you say?  So it would seem.  But I sang it a few times while sitting next to Naiya until she joined in.  We washed that one cup together while singing the song, washing slowly, inside and out, with great care, and then I returned to my own sink.

I kept singing as I finished washing every dirty dish in the house.  She sang too, while she carefully and with glee washed her own cup and plate.  She even made up a few new verses.

There was no more crying.  We were fulfilled in our individual needs.  Separately playing but tethered together by the joy of a totally stupid song.

peter paintbrush

When we sat down to do our first Valentine craft today Naiya said she had something special for me.  "Hold out your hand mommy," she instructed.  She then held her paint brush and while brushing the palm of my hand sang,

Peter Paintbrush dances always on his toes (gently painting my hand)

Never on his bottom (crushing the brush into my palm)  Never on his nose (tapping the wooden end)

Always on his tippy, tippy, tippy, tippy toes (one "tippy" brushing for each finger and the thumb on "toes")

I'm always so delighted to share these special rhymes with her.  It's a glimpse into her precious time at school and the sweet happenings there to which I am so infrequently privy.   I'm also often surprised at her level of recall and the length and detail of what she remembers.

the birth moment

Every year since she was born I have woken Naiya up at the minute of her birth.  It's in the middle of the night before she wakes up one year older.  I head into her dark room and gaze at this wonder that has changed my life.  I sing her a birthday song; she wakes up, looks at me and usually just falls back to sleep.  I remember that moment she came to us and how I knew everything had changed but I had no idea what that really meant.  When she's asleep and still and so peaceful, all I see is what an incredible gift she has been.

When she's fourteen she might not appreciate this special ritual I have begun.  Or maybe she'll lay in bed straining to stay awake in anticipation of her mother's loving harassment.  Time will tell.

This year we began another pre-birthday ritual with this special poem just before we turned off the lights.

When I have snuggled into bed,

With pillows soft beneath my head,

And mommy switches off the light, 

I'll still be three years old tonight.

But from the very break of day,

Before the children rise and play,

Before the darkness turns to gold

Tomorrow, I'll be four years old.

Four kisses when I wake.

Four candles on my cake.

actually

“Let me tell you something... Actually...”
This phrase now begins perhaps 40% of each sentence our child utters. It’s odd to realize that we ourselves are the source of these repetitions. Well, actually, it’s mostly mommy.

important questions

After we read our stories in bed we were laying together in the dark and Naiya asked, “Mommy, why do little girls grow up?”
I had one of those long pauses that I often have wondering if I should give her an honest answer. It didn’t take long to realize that I didn’t have any answer at all really. So I did what I often in these situations. I asked her “Why do you think little girls grow up?”
She quietly sat with an equally long pause.
Finally she said, “So they can reach stuff.”

look and lick

Naiya stayed the night with my mum and dad last night. When we went to pick her up she was completely uninterested in us. Disregarding her wish to continue playing, however, I scooped her up in my arms. My beautiful child just wriggled in an attempt to return to her game.
“Hey you, look at me,” I plead with her in my most loving voice. “Look me in the eye.”
This request caught her attention. She immediately turned and LICKED me in the eye.