Sometime in the past few days (I first heard it yesterday, Marli says she heard it a few days previous) Kenshin learned to call his brother by his name.
For quite some time now (a few months at least), Kenshin has been able to point at Daigoro when asked "Where's Daigoro", but he's never actually called him "Daigoro".
Yesterday and today he's been calling him Daigoro.
Also, another milestone for Kenshin - on Saturday we left the children with their ba-chan and gi-chan for the day. When we arrived at the door Saturday evening, he said quite clearly, looking from one to the other of us, "Hi Daddy, hi mummy."
Once again, pretty run-of-the-mill for most parents of two and a half-year-olds, fairly substantial progress for Kenshin.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Ts-icken Little
After months of glacial progress, Kenshin has suddenly started leaping forward in vocabulary.
Added recently:
"I would like..."
"...milk."
"...water."
"...noodles." (President's Choice White Cheddar Macaroni seems to be his favourite meal at the moment. That kid can pack the stuff away like there's no tomorrow.
"Don't want." (pretty much the answer to anything that isn't meat of some kind or PC white cheddar macaroni)
He's learned his colours and the first five numbers with a great deal of help from nightly sessions with Fisher-Price board books. His pronunciation of the word "pink" is darling.
He also likes to watch the small chickens in the child-friendly faming-based video game "Harvest Moon" and say "chicken in" or "chicken out" (of the henhouse). Only when he says it, it comes out "ts-icken in" "ts-icken owwt".
Daigoro began half-days of kindergarten, although as mentioned below, it wasn't really the same jarring transition it might have been, since he was already spending part of the day with the kindergarten class in his daycare class. He continues to be a gentle, loving and very considerate young boy, if a little spazzy at times. He surprised me the other day with a question about stars and falling stars, asking if the far away stars are suns, and if they are suns, how could you catch a falling star? I suppose he had heard or seen something which had involved catching a falling star.
Two weeks ago was my brother's wedding, which was an absolutely fabulous affair. Daigoro looked handsome beside his father the groomsman and his uncle the groom in the wedding party as the ring bearer. I'm not sure what is quite so adorable about children dressed up in formal wear or uniforms, but it sure is cute.
There's all sorts of other things about Kenshin's progress which I probably should document, but it's all happening so fast it's hard to keep track. I'll have to ask Marli for some input. More later.
Added recently:
"I would like..."
"...milk."
"...water."
"...noodles." (President's Choice White Cheddar Macaroni seems to be his favourite meal at the moment. That kid can pack the stuff away like there's no tomorrow.
"Don't want." (pretty much the answer to anything that isn't meat of some kind or PC white cheddar macaroni)
He's learned his colours and the first five numbers with a great deal of help from nightly sessions with Fisher-Price board books. His pronunciation of the word "pink" is darling.
He also likes to watch the small chickens in the child-friendly faming-based video game "Harvest Moon" and say "chicken in" or "chicken out" (of the henhouse). Only when he says it, it comes out "ts-icken in" "ts-icken owwt".
Daigoro began half-days of kindergarten, although as mentioned below, it wasn't really the same jarring transition it might have been, since he was already spending part of the day with the kindergarten class in his daycare class. He continues to be a gentle, loving and very considerate young boy, if a little spazzy at times. He surprised me the other day with a question about stars and falling stars, asking if the far away stars are suns, and if they are suns, how could you catch a falling star? I suppose he had heard or seen something which had involved catching a falling star.
Two weeks ago was my brother's wedding, which was an absolutely fabulous affair. Daigoro looked handsome beside his father the groomsman and his uncle the groom in the wedding party as the ring bearer. I'm not sure what is quite so adorable about children dressed up in formal wear or uniforms, but it sure is cute.
There's all sorts of other things about Kenshin's progress which I probably should document, but it's all happening so fast it's hard to keep track. I'll have to ask Marli for some input. More later.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Breakneck Acceleration into Speech Country
Yes, it's been a while. No, I have no good excuse, except that Kenshin hasn't been doing a lot of progressing. Until the last few weeks.
Somehow, for whatever reason, the spoken word switch seems to have suddenly flicked on for Kenshin. He's now actively asking use to "read book" (or even more impressively "read Sandra Boynton"), "I think I want to watch [Wall-E, Bolt, I Spy]" and dozens of other sentence fragments and individual words. He says "look, plane!" or "look, noodle!" appropriately when pointing at those respective objects.
This really must sound like "yeah, so what?" territory for many parents of 30 month old kids, but for Kenshin to be speaking at this level (~24 months) is a big leap forward in a very short amount of time. For the past six months previous to this latest development spurt, Kenshin had been speaking around a year-old level, well behind his age. Fortunately, as mentioned in previous posts, developmental assessment indicated that he wasn't too far behind in other aspects.
He's beginning to talk without prompting, excitedly describing things he wants or has seen. This, paired with his increasing comprehension of our commands to him ("come upstairs", "let's brush your teeth", "time to change diaper", etc.) has made it a little easier to deal with him.
Strangely, as I say this, he's actually not generally troublesome in the sense that he's actively causing mischief - it's just that due to his slow comprehension of verbal commands, he's generally indifferent or ignorant of what we want him to do, which makes him seem very uncontrollable except by pulling him about or physically sitting him where he needs to be (on the couch, in his chair, in bed, and so on). He's not drawing on walls because he wants attention - he just doesn't know any better.
Daigoro, by contrast, was speaking fairly clearly at this point in his development, albeit still in sentence fragments.
We took them to African Lion Safari this past Labour Day weekend. Surprisingly better than I was expecting, though I have to say I thought the kids would be more interested in animals roaming just outside the car windows than they ended up being. Kenshin in particular was more interested in his toys than the baby zebra frolicking about four feet away.
Daigoro and I had an interesting duel of wills a month or two back - I need to document that, but not tonight. Just wanted to get a record in while I had a spare moment.
[edit] OK, I have a spare moment.
I was instructing Daigoro to do something - what exactly I can't remember.
I was getting frustrated and I said, "Daigoro, it makes me very angry when you don't listen to me. Please do what I say."
To which Daigoro replied, "Why do I have to do what you want when you don't listen to what I want?"
I replied (in a somewhat taken aback manner), "Daigoro, children have to to what their parents want so that they stay safe and learn from what their parents know. Sometimes children don't know the right things to do yet."
That seemed to fly, but I have to say I wasn't expecting the teenage rebellion angle for at least another eight years.
Somehow, for whatever reason, the spoken word switch seems to have suddenly flicked on for Kenshin. He's now actively asking use to "read book" (or even more impressively "read Sandra Boynton"), "I think I want to watch [Wall-E, Bolt, I Spy]" and dozens of other sentence fragments and individual words. He says "look, plane!" or "look, noodle!" appropriately when pointing at those respective objects.
This really must sound like "yeah, so what?" territory for many parents of 30 month old kids, but for Kenshin to be speaking at this level (~24 months) is a big leap forward in a very short amount of time. For the past six months previous to this latest development spurt, Kenshin had been speaking around a year-old level, well behind his age. Fortunately, as mentioned in previous posts, developmental assessment indicated that he wasn't too far behind in other aspects.
He's beginning to talk without prompting, excitedly describing things he wants or has seen. This, paired with his increasing comprehension of our commands to him ("come upstairs", "let's brush your teeth", "time to change diaper", etc.) has made it a little easier to deal with him.
Strangely, as I say this, he's actually not generally troublesome in the sense that he's actively causing mischief - it's just that due to his slow comprehension of verbal commands, he's generally indifferent or ignorant of what we want him to do, which makes him seem very uncontrollable except by pulling him about or physically sitting him where he needs to be (on the couch, in his chair, in bed, and so on). He's not drawing on walls because he wants attention - he just doesn't know any better.
Daigoro, by contrast, was speaking fairly clearly at this point in his development, albeit still in sentence fragments.
We took them to African Lion Safari this past Labour Day weekend. Surprisingly better than I was expecting, though I have to say I thought the kids would be more interested in animals roaming just outside the car windows than they ended up being. Kenshin in particular was more interested in his toys than the baby zebra frolicking about four feet away.
Daigoro and I had an interesting duel of wills a month or two back - I need to document that, but not tonight. Just wanted to get a record in while I had a spare moment.
[edit] OK, I have a spare moment.
I was instructing Daigoro to do something - what exactly I can't remember.
I was getting frustrated and I said, "Daigoro, it makes me very angry when you don't listen to me. Please do what I say."
To which Daigoro replied, "Why do I have to do what you want when you don't listen to what I want?"
I replied (in a somewhat taken aback manner), "Daigoro, children have to to what their parents want so that they stay safe and learn from what their parents know. Sometimes children don't know the right things to do yet."
That seemed to fly, but I have to say I wasn't expecting the teenage rebellion angle for at least another eight years.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Identity Crisis
The family managed a relatively peaceful road trip to Montréal over the Victoria Day weekend. We've gotten into the habit of structuring travel legs around the sleep patterns of the children - leaving early in the morning before they wake up, or taking the second leg while they sleep in the afternoon.
After visiting relatives in Montréal and Ottawa, I can say that we're definitely getting better at the packing and planning aspects of our trips, though maintaining car tidiness and packing cohesion over the weekend is not yet optimal.
Both of us are big believers in not resorting to DVD players and other digital distractions, preferring to try to interact with the children in song, conversation and sight-seeing. One such conversation had a particularly humourous twist.
Marli and I were discussing the family history of my Japanese-Canadian roots when Daigoro jumped in with his frequently-asked question, "Excuse me, what are you guys talking about?"
Marli patiently (and very concisely) explained the concept of identity. She talked about how people talk about appearance, culture and other aspects of one's background as making up one's identity. She finished by asking, "So, what things identify you and our family?"
Daigoro thought for a while, then answered, "Daigoro is fast. Daddy is strong. Mommy is safe. Kenshin is screamy."
After visiting relatives in Montréal and Ottawa, I can say that we're definitely getting better at the packing and planning aspects of our trips, though maintaining car tidiness and packing cohesion over the weekend is not yet optimal.
Both of us are big believers in not resorting to DVD players and other digital distractions, preferring to try to interact with the children in song, conversation and sight-seeing. One such conversation had a particularly humourous twist.
Marli and I were discussing the family history of my Japanese-Canadian roots when Daigoro jumped in with his frequently-asked question, "Excuse me, what are you guys talking about?"
Marli patiently (and very concisely) explained the concept of identity. She talked about how people talk about appearance, culture and other aspects of one's background as making up one's identity. She finished by asking, "So, what things identify you and our family?"
Daigoro thought for a while, then answered, "Daigoro is fast. Daddy is strong. Mommy is safe. Kenshin is screamy."
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Lasts
It's been a while since my last entry, principally because (as much as it pains me to admit it) Kenshin actually hasn't been developing much, speech-wise. It's actually a bit of a concern for us, so much so that we had him evaluated by a developmental specialist to ensure that his lack of development of language skills is the only factor.
Fortunately the specialist indicated he seems to be developing mentally, physically and socially the way that a two-year old should, just that his linguistic development is about a year behind.
On the happier side of things, he has developed a veritable obsession for having books read to him - he will press a book into our hands, listen beaming while we read it, then demand a second, third and fourth reading. It's quite endearing - he will smile and giggle at the book content and look positively radiant with joy.
He is progressing slowly. Besides his early words of "Mom", "Up", "Bye" and "No", he's added "outside" (ow-syyy), "ball" (baaah) "yay" and a few other words to his lexicon. You can see the wheels turning in there. He will spend literally an hour or more positioning and repositioning trains on his Brio-compatible tracks and toys, and laying out the track in various patterns. He's actually figured out polarity on the magnets on the trains, knowing to flip them around when they're repelling each other. He also engages with all manner of buttons and switches at every opportunity. At least once or twice he has managed to turn on, off or otherwise reconfigure equipment that I wouldn't have credited him with being able to figure out.
Daigoro continues to astound me with his ready grasp of difficult concepts and excellent recall of things I've often only spoken to him briefly about. He progresses very well in his drawing and writing skills as well as displaying a well-developed sense of empathy and care.
Marli has weaned Kenshin down to a single morning feeding per day, which brings me to the title of this entry - the idea of a last feeding. Often we note firsts - teeth, walking, word, etc. - but we seldom take note of a "last". Kenshin is very likely our last child and Marli will consequently likely never breast-feed again. At some point in the next three to six months will be the last time that Kenshin will have breast milk, Marli the opportunity to feed Kenshin breast milk, and I to see the two of them share such an intimate and serene moment. Similarly, once Kenshin starts to speak, it will be the last of baby-talk, and eventually the last of the loping, lop-sided toddler run, the utterly unfiltered laughter and soon enough, the last time I'll be able to bundle either of them up in my arms, cradled like an infant.
Last week I took the children to see cherry blossoms in High Park. It is a nation-wide phenomenon in Japan to go sakura hanami (cherry flower-viewing) - besides being an excellent excuse to get sozzled and write maudlin poetry, it has a much deeper sense of bittersweet awareness of the temporary nature of natural beauty. They even have words for it: mono no aware - the poignancy of things. As I watched my pre-schooler and toddler run beneath the gently falling cherry petals, I felt it deeply within my heart that these are moments which will never come again, and yet they are nonetheless happy and beautiful. This, I think, is the deepest wisdom that one can try to grasp - that even though all things will pass and come to dust, there is no need for despair and ennui in the world.
Gleaming petals fall
Dying light of a spring day
Children run, laughing.
Fortunately the specialist indicated he seems to be developing mentally, physically and socially the way that a two-year old should, just that his linguistic development is about a year behind.
On the happier side of things, he has developed a veritable obsession for having books read to him - he will press a book into our hands, listen beaming while we read it, then demand a second, third and fourth reading. It's quite endearing - he will smile and giggle at the book content and look positively radiant with joy.
He is progressing slowly. Besides his early words of "Mom", "Up", "Bye" and "No", he's added "outside" (ow-syyy), "ball" (baaah) "yay" and a few other words to his lexicon. You can see the wheels turning in there. He will spend literally an hour or more positioning and repositioning trains on his Brio-compatible tracks and toys, and laying out the track in various patterns. He's actually figured out polarity on the magnets on the trains, knowing to flip them around when they're repelling each other. He also engages with all manner of buttons and switches at every opportunity. At least once or twice he has managed to turn on, off or otherwise reconfigure equipment that I wouldn't have credited him with being able to figure out.
Daigoro continues to astound me with his ready grasp of difficult concepts and excellent recall of things I've often only spoken to him briefly about. He progresses very well in his drawing and writing skills as well as displaying a well-developed sense of empathy and care.
Marli has weaned Kenshin down to a single morning feeding per day, which brings me to the title of this entry - the idea of a last feeding. Often we note firsts - teeth, walking, word, etc. - but we seldom take note of a "last". Kenshin is very likely our last child and Marli will consequently likely never breast-feed again. At some point in the next three to six months will be the last time that Kenshin will have breast milk, Marli the opportunity to feed Kenshin breast milk, and I to see the two of them share such an intimate and serene moment. Similarly, once Kenshin starts to speak, it will be the last of baby-talk, and eventually the last of the loping, lop-sided toddler run, the utterly unfiltered laughter and soon enough, the last time I'll be able to bundle either of them up in my arms, cradled like an infant.
Last week I took the children to see cherry blossoms in High Park. It is a nation-wide phenomenon in Japan to go sakura hanami (cherry flower-viewing) - besides being an excellent excuse to get sozzled and write maudlin poetry, it has a much deeper sense of bittersweet awareness of the temporary nature of natural beauty. They even have words for it: mono no aware - the poignancy of things. As I watched my pre-schooler and toddler run beneath the gently falling cherry petals, I felt it deeply within my heart that these are moments which will never come again, and yet they are nonetheless happy and beautiful. This, I think, is the deepest wisdom that one can try to grasp - that even though all things will pass and come to dust, there is no need for despair and ennui in the world.
Gleaming petals fall
Dying light of a spring day
Children run, laughing.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Firsts - Writing His Own Name
Yesterday, February 8th, Daigoro wrote his own name in clear, legible letters, in the correct order. As far as Marli and I know, this is a first for him, so we celebrated the occasion with a reward of Kinder Surprise eggs.
Daigoro seemed to think this was a very equitable exchange.
We've also managed to arrange a few playdates with local children of Daigoro's age, which helps to quell some of my latent fears about him having trouble making friends and seeing them regularly. We haven't yet managed to find a female playmate for him - all of his contacts so far have been boys. I'm not going to worry so much about that yet - even at this early age, there are marked differences in how boys and girls play.
Daigoro seemed to think this was a very equitable exchange.
We've also managed to arrange a few playdates with local children of Daigoro's age, which helps to quell some of my latent fears about him having trouble making friends and seeing them regularly. We haven't yet managed to find a female playmate for him - all of his contacts so far have been boys. I'm not going to worry so much about that yet - even at this early age, there are marked differences in how boys and girls play.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Interesting Quotations
When asked if he wanted water, Daigoro replied,
"No, I'm being problematic. I want pop."
Given bacon, Daigoro asked if Marli could remove the fat. He added,
"I'm a vegetarian for fat."
"No, I'm being problematic. I want pop."
Given bacon, Daigoro asked if Marli could remove the fat. He added,
"I'm a vegetarian for fat."
Monday, January 19, 2009
Treasured Moments
Kenshin walks and climbs quite nimbly now - running is still a little ungainly-looking (gallumphing might be a word for it). His speech hasn't really progressed much at all - somewhat unusual for a nineteen month-old - but not something we're worried about yet.
Daigoro still speaks quite well and continues to show remarkable powers of observation daily. He's going through some odd phases of on-and-off separation anxiety at pre-school - probably arising from the long Christmas break.
Last night, after we put the kids down, Kenshin was crying and not wanting to go to sleep. We decided to wait and see what happened for a few minutes before we intervened. Our bedroom shares a wall with the kids' room and we can often hear what's going on.
We were laying in our bed, when I heard Daigoro start to sing to Kenshin in a soft, gentle voice. I couldn't quite make out the words, and the tune was unfamiliar, but Daigoro was definitely trying to comfort Kenshin with song. It was very, very sweet. About two minutes later, Daigoro stopped singing and sweet, blissful silence fell upon the house.
On the other end of the sweetness spectrum (what I like to term the "razza-frazza kids" end), the children are generally safe enough to be left for a minute or two without someone watching them like a hawk (enough time for me to go to the washroom, or go downstairs for something, etc.), but this little vignette was an exception.
The weekend before last, I was looking after the kids. Marli was in the house but didn't have responsibility for them at that moment (we usually verbally "hand off" the kids to one another a la pilot-in-command transfers on aircraft - a habit which generally avoids the "I thought YOU were looking after them" arguments). I had to go upstairs for something. Marli was already upstairs - I think Daigoro was with her. I figured, "I'll be upstairs for a few moments," what kind of trouble can Kenshin get into?
Heh.
I run upstairs, get the thing that I need, am coming down the stairs and see Kenshin there at the bottom of the stairs with a jar of jam hoisted over his head and about to throw it on the hard ceramic tile floor of our front hall, looking for all the world like some sort of bizarre toddler variant of Charleton Heston playing Moses in the Ten Commandments about to dash the stone tablets down the side of Mount Sinai.
I vault down the last few steps and grab the jam jar out of his hands just as he's about to throw it.
Frickin' jam? Why does a kid want to throw a jam jar around!? JAM!
Razza-frazza kids.
Daigoro still speaks quite well and continues to show remarkable powers of observation daily. He's going through some odd phases of on-and-off separation anxiety at pre-school - probably arising from the long Christmas break.
Last night, after we put the kids down, Kenshin was crying and not wanting to go to sleep. We decided to wait and see what happened for a few minutes before we intervened. Our bedroom shares a wall with the kids' room and we can often hear what's going on.
We were laying in our bed, when I heard Daigoro start to sing to Kenshin in a soft, gentle voice. I couldn't quite make out the words, and the tune was unfamiliar, but Daigoro was definitely trying to comfort Kenshin with song. It was very, very sweet. About two minutes later, Daigoro stopped singing and sweet, blissful silence fell upon the house.
On the other end of the sweetness spectrum (what I like to term the "razza-frazza kids" end), the children are generally safe enough to be left for a minute or two without someone watching them like a hawk (enough time for me to go to the washroom, or go downstairs for something, etc.), but this little vignette was an exception.
The weekend before last, I was looking after the kids. Marli was in the house but didn't have responsibility for them at that moment (we usually verbally "hand off" the kids to one another a la pilot-in-command transfers on aircraft - a habit which generally avoids the "I thought YOU were looking after them" arguments). I had to go upstairs for something. Marli was already upstairs - I think Daigoro was with her. I figured, "I'll be upstairs for a few moments," what kind of trouble can Kenshin get into?
Heh.
I run upstairs, get the thing that I need, am coming down the stairs and see Kenshin there at the bottom of the stairs with a jar of jam hoisted over his head and about to throw it on the hard ceramic tile floor of our front hall, looking for all the world like some sort of bizarre toddler variant of Charleton Heston playing Moses in the Ten Commandments about to dash the stone tablets down the side of Mount Sinai.
I vault down the last few steps and grab the jam jar out of his hands just as he's about to throw it.
Frickin' jam? Why does a kid want to throw a jam jar around!? JAM!
Razza-frazza kids.
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