Worry

You seem so excited about your new baby sister.  You kiss my tummy and say “hello” to her.  You tell me how you’re going to teach her how to walk, and feed her bottles, and change her diapers.  You want to teach her how to laugh.

You also just turned three.  You sometimes throw things when you don’t get your way. You confuse me sometimes.  Like when you ask for an apple and I go to get it and you yell” NO APPLE!” but when I move to put it away you start crying and want the apple back. You love to help set the table and empty the dishwasher but usually put up a fight when it’s time to clean up the toys.

You amazingly take new things in stride.  When we took the side off your crib, you happily got in bed at night and didn’t constantly climb out. You switched into the bigger bedroom for you and your future sister, and slept through the night the first night and every night since. The tooth fairy “took away” the binkies the same week you independently decided to give up naps. At night you were overtired and binkie-less and yet you slept through the night. A few days later your “big-girl” twin sized bed arrived and you had no trouble sleeping in it, even with your “old bed” - soon to be your little sister’s crib - across the room.

I remember the first three months you were alive and how tired your Dad and I were from feeding you every two hours.  We got through it and every day was a little better. I worry about those first three months with a newborn and an active, inquisitive three year old. I don’t want you to feel lost in the shuffle and I want to be able to focus on you both equally but I worry that you’ll be sad or think I’m ignoring you. I don’t want you to worry.  About anything.  Ever.

At 35 weeks pregnant I am tired now but you seem to understand when Mom needs a break.  Like yesterday when it took us a half an hour to go one block because I had to keep stopping to sit down from stabbing cervical pains.  You patiently sat beside me on building stoops and stairs while I caught my breath.  Each time we stopped you would quietly sing me the Doc Mc Stuffins song: “I know you’re scared. Tell me what’s wrong. I know there’s something we can do.”  You waited patiently for me to collect myself and keep walking.

Maybe I should just trust in the fact that you’re taking everything in stride.  A three year old is showing me how not to worry. Ok...I’ll stop worrying. Really. OK...I’m stopping worrying….

Solo-Duplo building.

Silly face time while Mom lies down on the bed for a minute.

Hide and Seek.

Clara loves Hide and Seek...even if she doesn't totally get the rules.

At any moment, she will say,  out of nowhere: "Okay...I'm hiding."  And then run off.

I will count to ten and come try and find her.  The thing is her hiding places make me laugh out loud. In our courtyard she will stand behind a leafless, potted bush.  Or even better, she will walk up to and stand facing a wall.  It seems that if she can't see me, it must be that I can't see her.  And if I happen to spend too much  time "looking" for her Clara will call out: "I'm right here!"

The other day her friend Billie came over for a playdate.  Clara declares it's time to hide and runs off into another room.  Billie looks at me for guidance.  "Go hide with Clara."  Billie smiles at me and runs of to find Clara.  

Count to ten.  

First Hiding Spot:

Billie, poking her head out as if to ask: "This can't be right...." Clara interrupts: "I'm right here!:

Count to ten.

Second Hiding Spot.

They hid here a few times.  

They wanted some toys to play with while hiding, so I passed them some, 

while pretending I couldn't see them.

Count to ten.

Third Hiding Spot.

Billie hid under the desk featured in photo one.  This is the only time they hid separately. 

 I had to step over Clara, pretending I couldn't see her.

Count to ten.

Fourth Hiding Spot.

Brilliant, ladies.

(thanks for resembling the twins in The Shining)

As soon as I snapped this photo, they both starting shrieking and chased me through the house.

Hide and seek is a fabulous past time with one toddler...with two, it's pure comic genius.

Potty training. Not for the faint of heart.

So after postponing the inevitable I decided this past Monday that the next day would be day one of potty training Clara.  I had done a bunch of research about the "signs" that your toddler is ready to be potty trained and Clara's behaviors neatly checked all the boxes.  

I had asked my mother for advice but her response was: "I have no idea, I had my mother potty train all of you.  It had something to do with pretty underpants."

After some research I decided to go with the three-day pants free potty training model.  If you're not familiar with this system, it involves being trapped with a naked, stir crazy toddler for three days in your New York City apartment.  You will also be stir crazy (though hopefully not naked) and will quickly develop an eagle eye instinct for impending pee or poop disasters.

Tuesday.  Day One.

Clara woke up and I took off her diaper.  She was interested in the fact that another diaper was not put on.  "I naked." she exclaimed.  

Three day potty training suggests you wait for the pee to start streaming down their legs and then quickly deposit them on the potty.  I was not ready for this kind of constant mess so I started placing Clara on the potty in 30-minute intervals to see what would happen.  The first three sit downs yielded nothing.  Clara would sit for a few minutes, playing with a toy or an app on her tablet and then would get up and say: "I done" even though nothing had happened.

Sit down four yielded results.  Clara heard the pee whizzing into the potty and her face lit up.  "I did it!  I did it" she shrieked and stood up.  We looked at the pee in the potty and took our first, ceremonial visit to the toilet.  We poured the pee out, Clara got to take some toilet paper, wipe herself, then throw the paper in the toilet.  She flushed the toilet and Clara and I did a Pee Pee victory dance with a lot of added High Fives."

The day marched on doggedly.  Dry potty, dry potty, Pee Potty - Pee Pee Dance - repeat.  Clara found a new passion for climbing all over me with her naked self whenever I sat down, occasionally asking plaintively: "Outside?" or "Playground?"  All day long I kept my eye on her - watching for any accidents to happen.  They didn't.  Gerald worked late that night, so I put Clara to bed and celebrated my well-earned respite from thinking about pee by falling asleep early.

Wednesday. Day Two.

After a low point where naked Clara snuck behind the Barca lounger and peed while standing up, it was getting better.  Each time I asked Clara to sit on the potty, she did it and after a few hard-thinking minutes, she would pee.

A new iteration in the routine, Clara decided that after she went she would shout: "I did it - I POOPED!"  Never mind the fact that it was pee, everything was now 'poop' to naked Clara.

Gerald came home that afternoon to a zoned out wife and manic naked child.  But it felt successful. It felt like it might work.  I made the mistake of chatting with my husband in the kitchen while Clara darted into the living room.  A few minutes later I heard her say: "Poop!  There's POOP." I walk into the living room to find Clara standing on the leather Barca lounger pointing down at a pile of poop that is...also on the Barca lounger. 

Clara invented a game of supermarket shopping to alleviate the monotony.

Thursday. Day Three.

Everything has clicked into place for Clara. She no longer needs to be told to go on the potty, instead loudly exclaims: "I'M POOPING." as her signal for me to help her to the potty.  

All went well until the afternoon. Clara was standing on a step stool, playing in the bathroom sink with cups and washcloths.  I walked out of the bathroom for a moment - maybe to actually get something done - and came back to - Clara, standing on the step stool with a neat pile of poop also on the stepstool. "I POOPED!"

I go out that night with a friend.  Gerald is left alone with Clara.  She immediately pees on the floor twice.  Gerald is discouraged.

Later Clara impresses him with an unsolicited pee in the potty.

Friday. Day Four.

I feel comfortable enough to take Clara to the playground for a few hours.  We are both relieved to be outside and running around.  Clara dutifully asks for the potty and goes pee, then runs back to playing.  It's great.

Clara is reunited with her favorite patch of dirt.

No poop all day.  This isn't going to end well.

Saturday. Day Five.

I leave for work early in the morning after surviving a four a.m. wake up call from Clara who insisted on using the potty.  Gerald is on his own.  Excellent use of the potty - no pee accidents.

And then it happened.  Clara was playing happily in the living room.  She got up, presumably to get another toy from her room.  Instead, it was an elaborate subterfuge in order to enable pooping in private. Gerald suddenly heard the ominous: "I'M POOPING!"

Poop on the rug - all over the rug.  Almost two days worth of poop.  Clara was very excited and wanted to help clean it all up.

We are into Day Six now, and despite Clara preferring to poop while walking, reminding me of the famous film of Bigfoot walking into the woods (except with poop) she seems to be totally potty trained. (please.)

Kepit!

Clara loves ketchup.  Seriously.  She loves it.  She will eat lots of things but on meatloaf night or french fry night, her love of ketchup is revealed by her baby warrior cry of: "Kepit!"

Clara has no trouble pronouncing any other words.  Even (I would think) hard words like: butterfly, zebra, stinky butt, and purple.  Clara clearly thinks that ketchup has been horribly misnamed.  To her, that sweet, red ambrosia is Kepit.

Kepit.

Has a nice ring to it.  I would like some kepit on my hamburger.  Please pass the kepit. Maybe Clara is starting a new trend.  Kepit will replace salsa as the national condiment.

Also, Clara refers to Sour Cream and Greek Yogurt both as "Ice Cream."  She loves to eat both, and will crow for more "Ice Cream" if she runs out. 

 That's fine, Clara...you go on thinking that's what ice cream is.  I've got no problem with that.

Clara, post lunch. A tiny dab of kepit on her cheek.

I love cheese!

Clara is now one and a half years old.  It's so nice to be able to say: "One and a half" when asked her age instead of trying to tally up the months. In honor of this new moniker, Clara has decided it's time to really start talking.  It's startling every time she blurts out a new word or a tiny sentence.  Also, it's amusing that everything she says seems to end with an exclamation point.

Some of her favorites include:

Whoops!            

Sock! (while pulling off her sock and handing it to me)

A cup!

Binkie!

Shoe!

Turtle!

Yellow!

Purple!

Bubbles!

Hello?!

(while pretending whatever she's holding is a phone she's answering - binkie, keys, remote control)

Yes!

Okay!

Oh no! 

Treats!

Aaaa-choo! (she pretends to sneeze then laughs)

Soup..yum yum yum!" (while pretending to make soup in her play kitchen)

No..no...no! (while waggling one finger at me like an old granny)

Thank you! (when handing me anything, or I hand her something)

"P.U!" (said cheerily when realizing she has a poopy diaper)

I love you!

I love cheese!

Today, when asked by her dad what she would like to have for dinner she replied: "A kiss!" 

Congratulations, Clara.  I can't wait to hear what comes out of your mouth next.

Happy New Year, Clara.

It's January 1st, 2014.  Clara ia just a few days shy of a year and a half.  What a year.

Updates on Clara.

She likes to blow kisses and hug her dolls.

She still loves to pick up rocks and carry them for blocks.  Telling me quite clearly: "A rock."

She likes to count in a haphazard non-sequential kind of way.  "Two...three...two...two...three...one."

She loves singing songs and can sing the melody (if not all the words) on key...which I find amazing.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, The ABC song, and The Hello Song are some of her greatest hits.

She loves her new Picnic basket toy.  Today she took out the orange and the cookie, held them out to me and said: "Circle."  I think she's a better abstract thinker than I am.

She likes to pour water on the coffee table.  Until recently she waited for me to come and clean it up. Yesterday I was busy on the computer and Clara walked in talking a blue streak.  I told her I would be with her in a minute and noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was draggin a pair of my pants out of the bedroom.

When I went out into the living room I was greeted by a delighted Clara who having poured water all over the coffee table, had tried to clean it up with the tiny tablecloth from her picnic set.  When that failed to do the job she went in search of a bigger piece of cloth. My pants as it turned out, were perfectly suited to the task.  I thanked her for her help.  

As a mother I am amazed by the parents whose children know the "Clean up song" and can put away their toys.  I think Clara was trying to show me that she doesn't need a Clean Up song to get the job done.  

Next week I plan to show her the mop.  Just kidding....I think.

I look forward to another year of amazing Clara.

Purple and Turtle

Clara is full of energy and getting into everything which is why I was dreading the idea of being shut inside all winter with a toddler bouncing off the walls.  Going anywhere in the freezing cold is daunting with a small child and it turns out there are not a lot of structured activities or classes for under-2's.

Over the Spring, Summer and Fall I organized a meetup in the park for local moms with babies. We have a local yahoo group for parents and I posted there to see who might show up. I got a nice response - some became regulars, others drop-ins.  We spread out blankets and brought some toys to share.  It was a great way to meet other parents and have some adult conversation while the babies played.  I also thought it really helped the babies.  I could see Clara watching older kids who had mastered things she hadn't yet, and I could almost see the brain synapses firing.    Inevitably she would start doing something she had watched another baby do a week or so later.

But with the cold weather closing in around us, what could be done?  Along with a few other moms we have organized a weekly toddler playtime once a week in the Inwood Library Children's room.  We sing some songs, read some books and watch the toddlers play.  It is parent run - we came in and cleaned all the toys.  We set up the toys and clean up at the end of the hour.  But it's a huge success and Clara loves it.

This past Friday she amazed me by picking up a turtle figurine, bringing it to me and saying: "Turtle."  Then she picked up a dinosaur with purple spots, pointed to one of the spots and said: "Purple."  She smiled after each one, knowing she was rolling out something new for her Mommy. Just a little impressed with herself - and so she should be.  I applauded.

I think there should be more activities like this for children under two.  And not necessarily classes that cost money.  All of us parents want our children to grow and challenge themselves to do more. Organize something - you'll be surprised how many people show up.

She's like...both of us.

It is amazing watching a baby become a kid.  Clara still has baby qualities but she is becoming more of a kid everyday.  She is starting to make up games and entertain herself - not always looking to me or her dad for inspiration.  Like when Gerald comes home from work and she smiles that clever little smile and bolts away, running on toddly baby legs, absolutely expecting her father to chase her all over the apartment.  Gerald happily obliges - often before putting down his bag or taking off his coat.

There are pieces of Gerald and me poking through. I can see how we influence her.  Clara loves books.  She loves to be read to.  She loves to read them herself. She loves to point to images in books.

Clara: (pointing emphatically)  "A-dah!"  "A-DAH." 

She either explaining what the pictures are or she's asking me to explain how the gorilla got the keys from the zookeeper. Either way, she is very excited.  That is totally me.  I love books.  I love where they take you.  It is my favorite escape and clearly, Clara loves them too.

She is also silly.  She is trying out comedy on us every day.  She thinks it's hilarious to tilt her head to the side and smile at us.  It makes her laugh even before we start laughing.  And that is totally her dad.  Gerald has always had silly little things he did to make me smile and laugh.  And now he's showing that to Clara.  

Interestingly, Clara has recently begun talking in her sleep.  It's amusing going in to check on her only to find her, butt up in the air, knees tucked under, totally asleep, happily babbling to herself.  What's even more hilarious is to go back to sleep beside Gerald, and hear him talking to himself (though lying on his back in a much more dignified manner).

She is growing up so fast it feels like we're on a speeding train.  Or as my friend Libby said: "It's madness! It's like we're on a flume slide to 18."  Well, I love flume slides.

Dear Halloween...I love you.

I love Halloween.  I love the idea of dressing up as your favorite character or as one you made up with your own imagination. I love that you can be scary, pretty, ugly, funny, or silly.  It is one day out of the year that you can play dress-up no matter what age you are. As we grow up too many of us give into the peer pressure from friends who think "Halloween is stupid.  Dressing up is stupid."  It isn't stupid - it is an amazing way to remember what is feels like to be a kid.  We grow up so fast in today's world...what's so bad about one day reserved for dressing up, collecting candy from neighbors who exclaim in delight at your costume, and maybe making a little mischief?

As a child my mother taught me how to sew by helping us to make our Halloween costumes. Her mother made all of her costumes too. We would choose our costume sometime in June.  Then we would buy the pattern and the fabric and spend the next 4 months putting it together.  It takes a long time for 7-year old hands to sew an entire costume.  But to this day I am a fantastic hand-sewer because of my forays in Halloween costume design.

My sisters and I were hard core about our costumes.  In the early years we did a lot of team costumes.  And by early - I mean that Becky and I were three and Sam was 8.

Snow White (Sam), Dwarf(Becky), Dwarf (Me)

Cinderella(Sam), Mouse in a dress( Becky), Mouse in a Dress (Me)

Peter Pan (Sam), Wendy (Becky), Tinkerbell (Me)

Mad Hatter(Sam), Alice (Becky), Queen of Hearts (Me)

 Here's me as the Queen of Hearts...Notice how I took artistic liberty and gave myself a heart shaped mole.

I also sometimes went totally off-story and made up my own character.  Two personal favorites were Dot the Clown and the always unique Pig Goblin.  You don't see many Pig Goblins these days...or ever.

Our costumes always had to be kick-ass and as a result we mostly won our school's costume contests.  As the years went on we got good enough that there were a few costumes thought to be too good for us to have made them, and so we were unfairly excluded from prize consideration.  Becky's Merlin costume in the 8th grade and this Donald Duck Samantha made were too good to be believed.  

I suppose our love for Halloween should have died out in High School but we all went to LaGuardia High School for Music and Art and Performing Arts and Halloween was not for the faint of heart.  If you weren't making your costume you didn't come to school.  And the Halloween Parade for best costume was always incredible.  I made the scissor-hands for my friend Sara the year she won for best costume as Edward Scissorhands.  I never won myself but I made a kick-ass costumes every year and so did all the guys I had gone to Junior High School with who were as hard core about Halloween was I was.  My sister Becky and I have continued to dress up and find fun Halloween parties to attend all of our adult lives.  High-school friends Vinny Bova and Sean Madden started a Halloween Party in NYC called the "Greatest Halloween Party Ever" a few years ago - mainly for all of us adults who refuse to let the Spirit of Halloween die. Here's some of my costumes from the past few years - it's just as fun when you're in your thirties as when you're ten, believe you me.

Heather Brown as Peg Bundy.  Me as Wonder Woman Mid-Spin.

Becky as 28 Months Later - the Zombies have infected New York...

And me As the Illustrated Woman.

Becky as Werewolf Toto and me as the Apple Tree from Wizard of Oz.

Two Halloween's ago  Becky, Sam, Gerald and I did a team costume.  We were waiters from the Regal Beagle from Three's Company. (We won for best team costume) at Aaron Simms' Ghoulish Good Time Party.  I wouldn't know it for two weeks...but I was pregnant in this photo.  Which technically means that Clara was wearing a costume even then...

 Which leads me to my lovely Clara and Halloween.  She has no choice.  She has to love Halloween.    Last year she was three months old.  I dressed her up as the Great Pumpkin from Charlie Brown and took her to a Halloween Party. I crocheted the pumpkin hat.  I was Sally Brown and Gerald (who came home to take pictures and then had to go to work) was Linus.

This year I have gone bigger with the costume.  She is going to be Patrick Starfish from Spongebob Squarepants.  I made the costume myself without the benefit of a pattern.  I think it looks amazing and if there was a costume contest she would win it.

It's the first year I haven't dressed up for Halloween in many, many years.  But seeing my little girl dressed in a kick-ass homemade costume makes it all worth it.  (That and she's totally going to let me eat her candy)  I can't wait to see what costumes she comes up with in years to come...

Welcome to the Zoo.

As I read Clara countless books about zoo animals and farm animals, and play with puzzles about zoo animal and farm animals, and watch cartoons about (you guessed it) zoo animals and farm animals...I wonder: Why does Clara need to know so much  about zoo animals and farm animals???  Sure they're fun...and talking about horses and cows and zebras is endlessly interesting to Clara.  (And I do mean endlessly.)  But is she destined for a career in animal husbandry? She lives in Manhattan...not in a little house on the prairie. This animal inundation must be to blame for the thousands of little children who want to be zookeepers and veterinarians when they grow up. 

Should I be worried that most of Clara's first words are animal sounds?  Today when I asked her "What sound does a cow make?" She smiled at me and said: "Moooooooo" for the first time.  Moo has expanded her repertoire of animal sounds which currently includes: Quack Quack, Cluck Cluck, Oooo Oooo Oooo (monkey sounds, in case you were wondering), Oink Oink, Woof Woof, and Meow (she does a dead-on impression of our cat, Pistachio).

Is there a psychology behind this?  Actual science?  Does quacking like a duck make toddlers smarter? Is it a conspiracy by children's book publishers to inculcate malleable minds with a love for animals?  Is a monkey doll cheaper for toy companies to manufacture than a Cabbage Patch kid? I suppose, the question really is, who can I blame for this?  I mean seriously, at least don't include the animals that don't make sounds.  (I'm looking at you, Giraffe.) You try thinking up what sound a camel makes when your kid is pointing to the picture and looking up at you for an answer. (I settled on: "Ptoo!" which is my version of a camel spitting.)  The other day at the swings another mom and I compared notes on fish sounds.  Her sound for a fish:  "Bloob Bloob."  I prefer: "Glug. Glug."

In the meantime I guess I'll move onto: "Clara, what sound does a sheep make?"

Potty Time = Party Time

After reading endless suggestions and idea of how to introduce children to the potty and toilet training I decided to embark on the potty journey while suppressing shudders of dread at attacking this new, vital hurdle.

I started this with no knowledge of potty training.  Seriously, who does have experience with these things?  It turns out my mother felt boondoggled by the idea of potty training and passed that task off to my grandmother, Mimi.  I have heard vague stories of how she enticed us not to pee in our pants by giving us fancy underwear to wear.  But my grandmother passed away, taking her magical secrets of potty training to her grave.

There are many ways to approach potty training.  I understand that Clara is only 15 months and has quite some time to go before actually being able to reliably control her bowels.  But I did read about how children sometimes get afraid of the potty if it is introduced abruptly and that can  delay toilet training for months.  This made sense.  How is Clara to know what this new, child-sized chair/bowl thing that magically appeared in the bathroom one day is?

 First  you have to understand that since since Clara has been able to crawl I have had to throw bathroom privacy out the window, which means that Clara is always looking on with interest as I drop my pants to use the toilet.  As embarrassing as this is, you get used to it.

The introduction of the new potty has added a wrinkle to the "Mom and Clara go to the bathroom together with the door open" episodes.  When I sit down, I ask Clara if she would like to sit down and go pee-pee and then I sit her on the potty.  The first few times she sat down she immediately stood up and took the potty apart and threw it in the bathtub.  

A week into this process, she will sit and try standing and sitting back down herself.

Today, after getting home from a long walk in the park and feeding her lunch I decided I was too frazzled to sit Clara down and do the whole song and dance.  Lo and behold...Clara walked over to me and squatted like she wanted to sit on the potty, all with no prompting!  I moved her to the potty and she happily sat there while I finished up my business.

Of course...there are the situations that make me think she really isn't getting it.  Like this one - last night.  She had pulled all of the dollar bills out of my pocket and I found her in the bathroom doing this.

As my friend Sindy said when she saw this picture:  "Well, there's money down the toilet."

Hi...My name is...

Gerald and I have been subscribing to the theory that if you talk to your child a lot, then she will be verbal.  Or more verbal.  I don't know.  But it has seemed to work.  So far, Clara has learned to say: Bubble, Up, A-Cup, Bye Bye, Hi, Woof Woof, Quack Quack, Yes, Mama, and Dada.

I have to credit Gerald with the Mama and Dada part.  Anytime Clara said "Dada," Gerald would respond with:  "Yes. I'm Dada.  That's Mama. And you're Clara."  I take all the credit for Woof Woof and Quack Quack.

Yesterday while I was at work, something amazing happened.  Gerald was sitting in the chair in Clara's room as she played.  Gerald said: Yes, I'm Dada and you're Clara."  And Clara looked over at him and said: "Clara."  And then proceeded to respond to the question: "What's your name?" with "Clara" quite a few more times.

When I got home that night I asked her:  "Is your name Clara?" and she said: "Clara."

I wonder how long she's been thinking about saying her own name.  It's as if I can see her brain synapses firing and building the neural pathway that means: My name is Clara." along with the ones that mean: "One foot in front of the other is walking." and "This is how to drink from a cup."

Every day with a child is a revelation.

Hi!!!!

I have always been a morning person.  I hate rushing out the door.  Pre-baby, I would get up an hour and a half before I had to leave for work so I could sip coffee, read a book, get ready at a human pace. I am also wide-awake and cheery in the morning.  In college I woke up five days a week at 4:15am to row crew and then worked in the theater department all night.  It was great. 

It comes as no surprise that Clara is a morning person too.  She happily chirps in her bed in the morning (usually sometime between 5:30 and 6) as the dawn light streaks into her room and smiles at me when I walk into the room.  I wonder if her chirps are her discussing my impending arrival with the elephant, seahorse, and Yankee Bear that inhabit her crib. 

In the past week she has added something to the routine.  Now when I walk in I am greeted with a happy, smiling baby who says: "Hiiiiii!" to me in her tiny, piping voice. It made me laugh out loud the first time she did it.  It seemed so adult.  And it takes the sting out of the fact that, though I am a self-proclaimed morning person, having only one or two mornings where I have slept past 6 am in the past 14 months can wear a little thin.  But my reward is a beautiful little girl who can't contain how glad she is to see her Mama. What more could I ask for?

Sometimes They Teach You.

I have been trying rather sporadically to introduce Clara to the art of drawing with very little success.  She would wave the markers around and look at me as if to say: "This is supposed to be fun?  Lame, Mom."  The noted exception was Gerald's birthday card in January which Clara helped me with.

I love drawing.  I studied art.  I want Clara to love it too.  This morning as I was doing some work at my desk Clara came over and started pulling stuff off the bookshelves, as she is wont to do.  After a few minutes I looked down.  Clara had discovered a package of markers.  They were scattered around her and she was holding one in her hand, cap off, poised to draw.  

Amazed, I opened up a pad of paper for her.  I showed her how to draw with a green marker.  And that was it - Clara was drawing.  A dash of yellow, she would throw the marker away and grab another.  There were some stops and starts as she tried to figure out which end to put to paper and she colored her skin as much as the paper. But there she was - drawing.  She took a break to toddle around and try to eat the marker, then she went back for some finishing touches.

After she was finished with her matserpiece, she promptly went down for a nap.  I guess all those artistic brain synapses firing for the first time wore her out.

Yay!  We have art for the refrigerator!

The First Pass.

Finishing Touches.

The Masterpiece.

Clara, don't do this.

A short piece I wrote about my childhood was published in the 2013 Summer issue of The Southampton Review.  Reading it makes me remember at how much trouble my sisters and I got away with as children and in hindsight, it’s all extremely funny. But then I tallied  up all my bad kid karma points and  wondered when my “what goes around, comes around” karma will come back to haunt me.

And then it hit me.  Clara.

She’s a kid, like I was a kid.  I have been witness to the mischievous glint in her eye as she toddles over to the nightlight and contemplates pulling it out of the socket. Looking at me with a sly smile that seems to say: “You lady, just look over there for a minute, will ya’?” 

All I ask is that Clara waits a few more years before discovering how awesome matches can be.

Here’s the  story from my childhood. (Clara…don’t do this)

Water Bombs

By Jeannine Jones

A friend made on the other side of the building first introduced us to the thrill of throwing something out an open window.  Katherine would glob up a giant wad of toilet paper with her mother's Noxema face cream and throw that hellish snowball out the window onto unsuspecting passerby on Broadway. From her eleventh floor apartment we could occasionally hear the faint cries of outrage as Katherine's Noxema Bombs hit home.

            Back home in our ninth floor apartment, Becky and I lacked the courage to throw anything out the window that might actually hit someone.  Lucky us, our dining room overlooked a nearly-always empty courtyard.  The (almost) sure knowledge that no one was ever down there proved an impossible temptation to resist.

            Our weapon of choice began small - the foldable sandwich baggies we used to pick up our dog's poop up off the street, due to the recently passed Curb Your Dog law. One small baggie filled with water, dropped out the window made a satisfying PLIP. This was soon followed by two, then three, then even four at once - increasing the PLIP to a CLAP as the water made contact.

            Friends invited over for playdates and overnights would marvel at our daring.  Weren't we afraid of being caught?  The answer, simply, was no.  Located conveniently one apartment below us were two brothers, close in age, whose parents got regular visits from the doorman complaining of water bombs in the courtyard.

            Over the years, the sound of small, water-filled baggies striking the ground was no longer novel.  We graduated to plastic produce bags (THWACK!) and even to the larger bags our groceries came in (WHUMP!).

            One night, inspiration struck. I ran to the kitchen to get a trash bag.  Not one of those wimpy white ones for small apartment trash cans, but a HEFTY Lawn and Leaf bag.  With the help of my friend Rob, we filled it as far as we dared in the bathtub. Double knotted and too heavy to carry, it undulated across the floor like the Blob as we pushed it towards its demise.

            It hung there a moment, suspended in the sill, as if deciding which way to go. It slowly gained speed, oozed out the window and sailed into the night air. Endless seconds of silence passed.  Then - like a cannon firing off a shot we were greeted by a reverberating BOOOOOOOOM that rattled windows in their frames.

            We stifled screams and hysterical laughter and hid beneath the Dining Room table - safe in the knowledge, that in a few short minutes, the boys who lived downstairs would be getting a knock on their door.  I would like to say this was the juvenile act of a child.  I was 19.