Saturday, April 09, 2005
Just call me Ms. Generosity...
I had a couple of difficult days with Max this week, notable particularly for his lengthy periods of out-of-control screaming. I'm not quite sure what triggers these episodes--hunger? fatigue?--but I sure would like to get a handle on them, because they both disturb and exhaust me. Fortunately, today was not one of those days. In fact, we had a glorious day, perhaps because we did essentially everything that Max wanted to do. (Come to think of it, if everything in my life went exactly as I willed or wished, I'd be a lot more delightful, too.)
After we arrived home from the Museum of Matural Science, as he calls it, he pulled a layer of chocolate cake out of the freezer and asked to make a giraffe cake. I don't usually acquiesce to his increasingly-frequent requests for sugar, but I was feeling flexible, so we mixed yellow and brown icing and had the culinary version of a painting party. In materials I've been reading about art projects for pre-schoolers, authors often emphasize the importance of process over outcome. I don't know how much the finished product actually looked like a giraffe, but I'm certain that Max had a ball making it, which makes it a huge success in my view.
I cut two slices of the cake, one for Max and one for me. In the meantime, Reed lay down on the rug and began to moan, which is his way of pleading for a nap. So I took time out from my cake to put Reed down, then returned to the kitchen to finish dessert. On the island were two clean plates. Max was licking his fork.
"What happened to my cake, Max?"
He pointed to himself.
"You finished my piece of cake, Max?"
"Yes. You shared it with me. Thank you for sharing, mommy." He leaned over and gave me a big hug. "I love you, mommy. You're so nice."
After we arrived home from the Museum of Matural Science, as he calls it, he pulled a layer of chocolate cake out of the freezer and asked to make a giraffe cake. I don't usually acquiesce to his increasingly-frequent requests for sugar, but I was feeling flexible, so we mixed yellow and brown icing and had the culinary version of a painting party. In materials I've been reading about art projects for pre-schoolers, authors often emphasize the importance of process over outcome. I don't know how much the finished product actually looked like a giraffe, but I'm certain that Max had a ball making it, which makes it a huge success in my view.
I cut two slices of the cake, one for Max and one for me. In the meantime, Reed lay down on the rug and began to moan, which is his way of pleading for a nap. So I took time out from my cake to put Reed down, then returned to the kitchen to finish dessert. On the island were two clean plates. Max was licking his fork.
"What happened to my cake, Max?"
He pointed to himself.
"You finished my piece of cake, Max?"
"Yes. You shared it with me. Thank you for sharing, mommy." He leaned over and gave me a big hug. "I love you, mommy. You're so nice."
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