Parsing out the Kiera Talk
Apr. 4th, 2005 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
naomikritzerFirst, since I know you're all waiting for the update -- Kiera has been totally fine so far. Normal behavior, demeanor, and sleep patterns. If anything, she slept a little better last night than she usually does. When your kid is an infant they say to wait three days after trying a new food before introducing another one, so I figure I'll wait three days, then maybe feed her some sliced cheese and see what happens.
Anyway. This morning, for breakfast, Molly asked for an egg, but then clarified that she wanted a hard boiled egg, and so I got out the last of the Easter eggs and let her have that for breakfast. She also wanted a sliced apple, so I gave a couple of slices to Kiera and put them at her place. It's hard to figure out what Kiera wants for breakfast, since she has a pretty limited vocabulary, so normally I just give her a little bit of whatever Molly is having, and a little bit of my oatmeal, and some OJ (she always wants OJ, which she calls Au Jus. I think maybe Kiera was French in a past life; "Hello" consistently comes out as "Allo." Yes, I know that the Au Jus is not French for Orange Juice, but still.) I was making my oatmeal when Kiera came into the kitchen, pointed at the stove, and said, "ah guh." That was a flat A, as in "cat." Ah Guh. Egg? "Do you want an egg?" "Ah guh," she said, enthusiastically. I pulled out the frying pan, and her face lit up, so I thought I probably had it right. I fried up two eggs, since if there was a fried egg around I was pretty sure Molly would want some, too, and divided it between the girls. Kiera polished it off, so chalk up another point for the benefits of language acquisition.
Later in the day, while we were at the park, she pointed at my purse and said "wah guh." I knew what that was right off; she was thirsty, and wanted the little water bottle I carry around.
I had to go to Edina this afternoon, so afterwards, I decided to take the girls to the Wild Rumpus Bookstore. I've heard about this bookstore but had never been there. What I knew about it was that it's a children's bookstore in Linden Hills with a child-sized door for the kids to go through, and I'd heard it had a store cat. Ha. They have FOUR store cats, as well as a whole flock of birds (including chickens, parakeets, and a bunch of other birds that my sister could no doubt identify but I could not), a ferret, and four rats. I found out about the rats when I saw a nine-year-old girl holding one (you're allowed to take the animals out of their cages). I don't have a problem with pet rodents -- I was a bit startled by the rat, but he was clearly friendly, and I petted his head and asked the girls if they'd like to touch him. Molly touched him with a finger. Kiera cringed in abject horror and started to cry. What's rather interesting about this is that Ed has issues with rodents, particularly rats. It's not like this is something that comes up very often with the kids -- I don't think Kiera had ever seen a rat before. She is fascinated by dogs but skittish of them -- she wants to look at them, but she rarely wants to touch them. But that rat, she didn't even want to look at it. Nor did she want to look at the fluffy bird in the cage, later, when I held her up to see.
The bookstore was extraordinarily cool, but the trip could have gone better. Molly thought the child-sized door was awesome, but then got her hand caught in the hinge when I tried to shut it so that I could go through the adult-sized version built around it. I felt awful, not only for hurting her, but for spoiling the magical coolness of the child-sized door. Then Kiera was freaked out by the rat and the birds, and tired and clingy generally (which I will note was not surprising, because she didn't get a proper nap, thanks to the errands). The whole day was full of moments like that: I needed gas, and got the car washed. Kiera was freaked out by the water beating down on the car. Come to think of it, Molly was also scared of the car wash at that age. (And to be perfectly honest, I find car washes kind of freaky, too. There's something about being closed in with a moving machine and no human being to shut it off that triggers too many science fictional disaster scenes I've seen in movies and TV shows. This is why I don't get my car washed as often as I should.)
I told Molly she could pick out one book to buy, and she chose Lily's Purple Plastic Purse. I figured I would buy a book for Kiera if she found something that she clearly really liked, as opposed to a book that momentarily caught her fancy. I wound up getting her a book that played music when opened; she liked it so much she didn't want to let me pry it out of her hands so that it could be scanned and paid for. We went to the nearby playground for an hour, and then it was time to get home.
Which, as it turned out, was surprisingly difficult. In retrospect, I should have driven back down to 50th and taken 50th back to civilized parts (which is to say, east of the Chain of Lakes, which screws everything up). Instead, I looked at my map of Minneapolis (which cuts off right around where the bookstore is -- that was part of the problem), found an alternate route that didn't require me to backtrack, tried to do it, and got so hopelessly, pathetically lost that I turned around and drove all the way back to the bookstore, without realizing what I had done until I realized I was passing it again. I'm not sure whether to blame the winding streets of the Linden Hills neighborhood (it's almost reminiscent of Madison, the layout is so odd -- most of Minneapolis is on a grid unless a lake or a river gets in the way), the map I was working from, or my own utterly pathetic sense of direction. Probably the latter. Molly wanted me to give her a running narrative of my route, which I am normally perfectly willing to give her, but this time I grumpily told her to stop distracting me.
I did eventually find my way back to familiar ground.
All said, this was not a day when I was in the Mommy Zone, but the weather was stunning and we spent time outside. And I think the door, the store full of animals, and the purchase of a new book made more of an impression on Molly than having her hand pinched.
Anyway. This morning, for breakfast, Molly asked for an egg, but then clarified that she wanted a hard boiled egg, and so I got out the last of the Easter eggs and let her have that for breakfast. She also wanted a sliced apple, so I gave a couple of slices to Kiera and put them at her place. It's hard to figure out what Kiera wants for breakfast, since she has a pretty limited vocabulary, so normally I just give her a little bit of whatever Molly is having, and a little bit of my oatmeal, and some OJ (she always wants OJ, which she calls Au Jus. I think maybe Kiera was French in a past life; "Hello" consistently comes out as "Allo." Yes, I know that the Au Jus is not French for Orange Juice, but still.) I was making my oatmeal when Kiera came into the kitchen, pointed at the stove, and said, "ah guh." That was a flat A, as in "cat." Ah Guh. Egg? "Do you want an egg?" "Ah guh," she said, enthusiastically. I pulled out the frying pan, and her face lit up, so I thought I probably had it right. I fried up two eggs, since if there was a fried egg around I was pretty sure Molly would want some, too, and divided it between the girls. Kiera polished it off, so chalk up another point for the benefits of language acquisition.
Later in the day, while we were at the park, she pointed at my purse and said "wah guh." I knew what that was right off; she was thirsty, and wanted the little water bottle I carry around.
I had to go to Edina this afternoon, so afterwards, I decided to take the girls to the Wild Rumpus Bookstore. I've heard about this bookstore but had never been there. What I knew about it was that it's a children's bookstore in Linden Hills with a child-sized door for the kids to go through, and I'd heard it had a store cat. Ha. They have FOUR store cats, as well as a whole flock of birds (including chickens, parakeets, and a bunch of other birds that my sister could no doubt identify but I could not), a ferret, and four rats. I found out about the rats when I saw a nine-year-old girl holding one (you're allowed to take the animals out of their cages). I don't have a problem with pet rodents -- I was a bit startled by the rat, but he was clearly friendly, and I petted his head and asked the girls if they'd like to touch him. Molly touched him with a finger. Kiera cringed in abject horror and started to cry. What's rather interesting about this is that Ed has issues with rodents, particularly rats. It's not like this is something that comes up very often with the kids -- I don't think Kiera had ever seen a rat before. She is fascinated by dogs but skittish of them -- she wants to look at them, but she rarely wants to touch them. But that rat, she didn't even want to look at it. Nor did she want to look at the fluffy bird in the cage, later, when I held her up to see.
The bookstore was extraordinarily cool, but the trip could have gone better. Molly thought the child-sized door was awesome, but then got her hand caught in the hinge when I tried to shut it so that I could go through the adult-sized version built around it. I felt awful, not only for hurting her, but for spoiling the magical coolness of the child-sized door. Then Kiera was freaked out by the rat and the birds, and tired and clingy generally (which I will note was not surprising, because she didn't get a proper nap, thanks to the errands). The whole day was full of moments like that: I needed gas, and got the car washed. Kiera was freaked out by the water beating down on the car. Come to think of it, Molly was also scared of the car wash at that age. (And to be perfectly honest, I find car washes kind of freaky, too. There's something about being closed in with a moving machine and no human being to shut it off that triggers too many science fictional disaster scenes I've seen in movies and TV shows. This is why I don't get my car washed as often as I should.)
I told Molly she could pick out one book to buy, and she chose Lily's Purple Plastic Purse. I figured I would buy a book for Kiera if she found something that she clearly really liked, as opposed to a book that momentarily caught her fancy. I wound up getting her a book that played music when opened; she liked it so much she didn't want to let me pry it out of her hands so that it could be scanned and paid for. We went to the nearby playground for an hour, and then it was time to get home.
Which, as it turned out, was surprisingly difficult. In retrospect, I should have driven back down to 50th and taken 50th back to civilized parts (which is to say, east of the Chain of Lakes, which screws everything up). Instead, I looked at my map of Minneapolis (which cuts off right around where the bookstore is -- that was part of the problem), found an alternate route that didn't require me to backtrack, tried to do it, and got so hopelessly, pathetically lost that I turned around and drove all the way back to the bookstore, without realizing what I had done until I realized I was passing it again. I'm not sure whether to blame the winding streets of the Linden Hills neighborhood (it's almost reminiscent of Madison, the layout is so odd -- most of Minneapolis is on a grid unless a lake or a river gets in the way), the map I was working from, or my own utterly pathetic sense of direction. Probably the latter. Molly wanted me to give her a running narrative of my route, which I am normally perfectly willing to give her, but this time I grumpily told her to stop distracting me.
I did eventually find my way back to familiar ground.
All said, this was not a day when I was in the Mommy Zone, but the weather was stunning and we spent time outside. And I think the door, the store full of animals, and the purchase of a new book made more of an impression on Molly than having her hand pinched.
