We're back in the saddle, after a lovely vacation week in New Hampshire followed by a weekend's stay in Vermont. Fabulous weather, beautiful scenery, lots to do, and even a bit of relaxing thrown in there. I managed to get several hundred pages of good reading in, which, to me, is the sign of a good vacation. And the girls did remarkably well, all things considered, adapting with aplomb to a slew of new places, people, and situations.
They were, however, a bit clingier than usual, always wanting to be picked up, and acting particularly attached to me. They've also been doing this weird sort of "baby talk" thing where they say "mama" and "dada" and talk in babbly, indistinct voices. Clio has been espeically prone to this. I would say that it was a result of vacation -- the unfamiliar people, the disruption of routine -- but the fact is, it actually started a few weeks earlier.
I suspect that this is also one of those developmental phases that a lot of kids (babies? toddlers? youths?) go through around this age. I wonder if it might also have something to do with the fact that they know they're about to start preschool. In fact, I'm a little nervous about how they're going to handle the transition to that. It's only two mornings a week, but still....eek! I'm thinking it's probably a good thing that Alastair will be the one to drop them off on their first day next week, not me. (This clinginess is decidedly directed more at Mama than Dada.)
The girls are also somewhat obsessed with talking about things they can do when they're bigger or -- interestingly -- when they're littler. For example, if we say to them that they need to walk (as opposed to being carried) because they're big girls, and being carried all the time is only for babies, they may very well say, "But when I'm a little baby I can have a pick-up!"
I suppose the whole concept of chronology -- and the fact that they only grow up, not down -- is a bit confusing to them, and maybe even a bit threatening. Then again, we don't really help matters. Sometimes we refer to them as little girls (as in "this book is for grown-ups, not for little girls") other times as big girls ("you're such a big girl to drink from a cup like that!") and even occasionally refer to them, affectionately, as "baby girl" or the like. Can we blame them for being slightly confused?
And then there's the more comical manifestation of all this chronological confusion: When she's not acting babylike, Clio has lately taken to acting "Mommy-like" to Elsa. She'll try to comfort her or explain things to her or even scold her, all in a pitch-perfect imitation of parental tone. Yesterday as we were driving back home from Vermont and Elsa was whining about the song we were playing (she wanted to hear Old MacDonald -- again), Clio said, "Elsa, Mommy and Daddy and Clio need to listen to this song and then we listen to Old MacDonald, OK?" It's very cute, but I think it's only a matter of time before Elsa gets pissed off and decks her one.
But perhaps not. After all, Elsa is learning new, more productive ways to channel her immense physical energy. While we were at Sandy Island, she was a madwoman on the dance floor. (I really would love to enroll her in a dance class -- she seems to have some real aptitude for it, and clearly loves it.) And one morning, she spotted a stretching/gentle yoga class and insisted that we join in. "I want to do exercise!" she said. (I have no idea where she learned that word!) We got started just as the class was ending, but had our own private yoga session, captured on film by offical Elsa and Clio Paparazza, Heidi Cohen Miller. These are some of my favorite photos ever taken of Elsa and me.
Namaste!
