The third wheel

When you were little, did you ever lose your best friend to another kid? When I was about seven years old, I did, almost: my best friend, Nat, befriended another little girl, and I felt betrayed. There were some recesses when the two of them would take off without me, or they would have sleepovers that I wasn't invited to. It was heartbreaking.

Maïa has got herself into one of those situations, only she's the other little kid. At her daycare, there are two little girls who are inseperable: C and M. They do everything together at daycare, and they even like each other enough to want to see each other on the weekends, too! So you can imagine the difficulty that M has been having since C has taken Maïa as a friend. Now, it's not that the two are best friends. In fact, Maïa hardly ever talks about C. But the two get along quite well. M is not happy. When I went to pick Maïa up early one day, the kids were running around in the gym, only as three-year-olds can: loudly, chaotically, and while holding at least one other child's hand. So M and C were running about wildly when C spotted Maïa and ran over to her to grab her hand. M shouted loudly, "Not Maïa!" C insisted and the three ran together, though M did so quite reluctantly.

Now today, when Derek went to pick Maïa up, M was saying some nasty things about Maïa (which, in three-year-old world goes something like: "I don't like her!"). C was nowhere in sight, but Maïa has become such a threat to M that M just can't bring herself to endure being around Maïa. I really feel for little M, but I'm starting to understand the complexity of childhood relationships.

Maïa seems oblivious to the world around her because she generally plays on her own and seems to tune others out. But she actually picks up on everything. When Derek and I have a conversation at dinner or in the car and we think that the kids don't understand, Maïa will pick up the thread and ask us very pertinent questions about the topic we're discussing. I've taken to keeping important conversations for the evenings once she's in bed. So when Maïa seems oblivious to M's feelings towards her, I'm guessing that there's more going on. And I understand, suddenly, that the so-called "third wheel" is also heartbroken. It's not as though she is rejoicing in the attention C gives her. But she is most certainly suffering, to one degree or another, in the negativity that is coming off this other child.

So I've decided to talk to the daycare teachers to see if they've talked with M about her feelings. Certainly, they've picked up on the dynamics of the trio. But I want them to reassure M that C is still her best friend and that Maïa is just a regular friend and that Maïa could never replace her.

But, I'm realising as I write this, even if that conversation takes place, there is no guarantee that M will suddenly like Maïa, or even quitely tolerate her presence. And there is nothing I can do about it. It is completely out of my hands. Perhaps I am the one who is heartbroken...

Neat Freaks

Children naturally crave order. I'm not sure if this says anything about the human condition, and I'm not willing to speculate. But I do know for certain that small children (and some more than others) thrive on order: routines, traditions, habits, or any other kind of order you can imagine. It seems that three-year-olds are particularly affected by this "disorder", if you would allow me to call it that, for in our family, the need for order sometimes turns our lives topsy-turvy. Now when I say "our" I mean Derek's and mine.

Example One: Everything has its place
Maïa is very particular about what goes where. We have a number of baskets in which reside the children's toys. There are smaller ones there are larger ones; each contain a particular set of toys. When we first placed the baskets back in July when we moved to our new home, none of them had a their own space. But once we had put the dishes basket on the right on more than one occasion, that became its home. Now, it would be unthinkable to place that basket between the other two or to the left.

Example Two: Things must be straight and square
Again, the toy baskets. They must be placed on their respective shelves, but not in any-which-way. Oh, no. They must be pushed (but not too far in) and be perfectly aligned. Closet doors, doors to rooms, cupboard doors, drawers: all must be closed. If anything is left ajar, it gets pushed in.

Example Three: Routines are key
This one is a maxim that most parents of small children know well. In the baby books, generally the routine spiel is usually broached in the context of bedtime. Oddly, Maïa is very flexible with her bedtime routine. The mother of all routines in her world is the one surrounding the bathroom. There are at least 15 steps (we've counted), and they must each be done in the exact order or else all bets are off, and she's down on the floor, screaming. So we've just let it go. We coach her through each step to get her moving along (if left unchecked, she will take up to 30 minutes, and I'm not exaggerating: I tried it one day when we weren't in a rush to do anything).

There is no question that Maïa is a neat freak, for now, anyway. And it looks like Solanne is well on her way, too. Yesterday, as she was sitting in her highchair, having a snack, she yelled out, "Uh-Oh!! Uh-Oh!!!" I looked up to see her pointing at the utensil drawer I had left ajar (by about 1 cm). "Uh-oh!" She looked at me in earnest, so I closed the drawer. Then she clapped.

Sigh. I wonder what her mother-of-all-routines will be... I'll keep you posted.

Solanne's word of the week: go-go

The wonderful world of signs continues to be alive and well in our family, but verbal language acquisition is Number One on Solanne's To Do list. She says mama, dada, nana, suce, and non! (somehow in all this, she's forgotten how to say " chat," which was her first word).

Her latest word is yogurt (pronounced "go-go"). A few days ago we were thoroughly surprised when Derek opened the fridge to pull something out and Solanne ran over, shouting. She was pointing frantically at what seemed to be her drink of milk, so we took it out for her. She started to cry and screamed even more, and this time we made out the sounds she was making: "go-go! go-go!"

I took out the yogurt and asked her, "is this what you want?" She smiled, nodded and said, "go-go!" Of course! Yogurt is her favourite food, so shouldn't have come as a big surprise. She looked up at me with her big eyes and said "go-go" again, so I happily complied.

Now, when the fridge is open, when she walks by the fridge, or whenever the thought even crosses her mind, Solanne enthusiastically asked for her go-go. The first day, she ate four small containers of it. I've slowed down her consumption, but it's hard to resist the sound of those baby words.

On holiday

From December 22 to January 3, our whole little family was on holiday: I took a hiatus from my contracts, Derek put down the books, and Maïa stayed home from daycare.

Here are some of the fun things we did during that time:

While Daddy gave up reading, Solanne read anything she could get her hands on and wouldn't put down her books for anything...


Meanwhile, Daddy and Maïa played outside a lot...
Maïa and her snowman, Ned.


Eating snow.


Posing.


Being a crafty family, we also did some art over the holidays...
Nick and I painted the frame for this picture we gave to Gramma.


Derek and Naomi painted this one.


We got Maïa to work on Christmas cards.


Even Solanne wanted to be included, so she drew (on) herself.

The Christmas Quiche

When Derek and I became vegetarians a number of years ago, our families did their best to cope with it, with very little grumbling (and only at first). They found ways of making dishes veggie-friendly, or of adding a protein side dish that would replace the meat.

But "dealing with us" on holidays was a whole other issue. What in the world do vegetarians eat at Christmas or Easter? Those holiday meals all revolve around the all-important turkey: there's the bird itself; the stuffing, which goes into the bird; the gravy, which is made for the bird's drippings; the vegetables, which are roasted in the pan with the bird (at least in my family)... What is a meat-eating family to do with a couple of (and now 4!!) vegetarians?

So the first Christmas, Derek's gramma pulled a quiche from the freezer and baked it up for us. And we ate the vegetables and trimmings, just like regular people. It worked out fine, so every year after that, we got the quiche. Not as exciting as a turkey (which I must admit I never really liked anyway!), but it did the job.

This year, Derek and I and the girls hosted Christmas, first for my mom, then for Derek's parents and brothers and their partners. In the spirit of Gramma's idea, we decided to bake up a quiche, from scratch. And you know what? It was delicious... hardly a grumble from anyone concerning the conspicuous absence of the bird (mind you, they were all getting turkey at Gramma's the next day anyway).




And that's how our little family partakes of the Christmas meal: a very tasty quiche complete with mashed potatoes, stuffing, steamed veggies, and gravy.

Happy New Year!

Peace and prosperity in 2006 for all our avid readers. We'll be back in the blogging business early next week, once I get one of my contracts finished up...

Love to all,
Cristina