My daughters have trouble with prepositions, sometimes. We get things like this, in our house:

“Can we have hot chocolate after bed?”
“Put the milk behind my cereal, please.”
(after another child) “I want to do it first, next!”

When Faith was about 12-18mos she signed a lot. She had one sign that began as an indication for “I want down and I need your help” that consisted of her index finger pointing at the ground several times, insistently. Over a pretty short time it underwent a transformation into a general “change my position” sign - when she was up in a highchair or her carseat it meant “I want down”, but when she was on the floor but wanted up it meant “I want up”.

For a while it also meant “I want to be held” but that quickly changed to the common yet adorable toddler plea to “hold you?” or “Wanna hold you?” which stuck for quite a while (because it got such spectacular results, I’m sure).

So anyway, they’ve often had a bit of confusion orienting themselves in the world. I think this is common and I’m not concerned in the least, merely making an observation. John Holt talks about this in How Children Learn - he recalls asking a child to retrieve somethng from the teacher’s desk and telling the boy it was in the right-hand drawer, to which the child asked “My right hand or the desk’s right hand?”

I think it comes from several things but mostly from a fluid notion of where they rest in space and time. Not in a mystical way, but in an inexperienced way. I recall lying on my back in the summer grass and feeling as though I was falling into the deep blue July sky.

Cheetos.

They eat Gazettes.

are gentlemanbugs, according to my daughters.

As in, Mrs. Hathcoat. Or perhaps Hathcote. She was the Senior something or other history/government related subject at Bishop McGuinness High School, which I attended school year 88-89, in the Dark Ages before hot running water, sliced bread and the Intarweb. I probably would have continued there but they said they didn’t want me to come back. Which is another story for another day.

This story is about Hathcoat, who I believe is still at the esteemed institution mentioned above, only now she’s in a Position of Power. She may be the Dumbledore of the joint, or perhaps only the McGonagle. I’m not so clear on that. Anyway, I knew her when she was only able to terrify a few seniors a year, which she seemed to enjoy. Most of them spent spring dreading their Senior Project, which represented about 20% of their grade.

Now, being a freshman, I had no reason to fear her. But my friend Jim was a senior and had been dreading his Senior Project since New Year’s. He finally decided to make a short film and he rounded up his more oddball friends to appear in it (including yours truly; I was a lady in a mock commercial in the middle of the film).

So we spent a particularly muggy weekend in early May tromping around somebody’s overgrown huge backyard/acreage getting scratched up by brambles, twisting our ankles, fighting ticks, mosquitos and wasps, (mostly) avoiding poison ivy… it was not fun. Much cursing ensued as we did take after take and finally said OK, DONE.

The video was hastily edited together by dubs from camera to VCR, and was ready to go on Monday morning (You didn’t think Jim actually did it ahead of time, did you?), bright and early. The project was turned in, 6th period. The film began, played (it was an action picture), commercial break (me!), conclusion of film, roll credits, yay! The End.

But, no! Not The End.

As Mrs. Hathcoat walked toward the VCR to stop the tape and hit Rewind, the outakes/cuts from the film began to play because Jim had dubbed it over the same tape. The last thing the room heard was Jim saying:

“Hathcoat, you b*tch!”

He got an F.

Abby has been, for the last year, leaving diapers behind. In fits and starts (more fits than starts, I’d say!) but today she had a big advancement and I won’t go into detail but HOORAY ABBY!

That is all.

Bede did all the hand motions for “The Wheels On The Bus”, on his own, not imitating me - Three times!

YAY BEDE!

I swear I could eat him up I love that boy so much. :happy sigh:

Abby: Mama?
Me: Yes?
Abby: Can T.J. play the guitar so I can roll?
Me: I bet he can.
Faith: Mama?
Me: Yes?
Faith: Can Sophia sing so we can rock?
Me: I bet she can.

Faith and Abby are raptly watching “The Little Prince” on PBS, an operatic musical version of the book by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

I mean they are glued.

Two sticky thumbs up!