Are you having a tantrum?

It was time to get dressed for the day and she insisted on wearing yesterday's dirty pants and her blueberry-stained pink nightshirt, which was now soaking wet due to her post-breakfast sojourn washing dishes.

Frog is 2 1/2 years old, so "insisted" is very evident - you see it on her face, hear it in her voice, watch it explode throughout her body. 

I set out some clean clothes choices on my bed, for her to choose from. This was a bit of a 'redirect' move on my part - she loves to jump on my bed and hide under my pillows, so if I could get her to the bed, perhaps she'd stop digging in her heels about the clothes.

Ha.

She ran around the bedroom in circles looking for the dirty pants of yesterday, while yelling "I want those pants!"

I moved to the bathroom, prepping her toothbrush, knowing if I just moved ahead with the next thing on the agenda, we might lessen her wrath and dispel the impending tantrum. Frog enjoys brushing her teeth. Completely ignoring the pants request, I cheerily called out "Let's brush our teeth!" 

She runs to the bathroom door, glaring at me, and yells "YES, PANTS! YES, PINK SHIRT!," as in I WILL NOT ABIDE ANY OTHER IDEA THAT YOU MAY HAVE, NANA! and I turn to look at her, instantaneously taking in the full beautiful roaring picture -

• not quite three feet high
• not even thirty pounds
• that precious, beautiful face 
• head full of brown hair
• wearing nothing but a pull-up and that soaking wet dirty pink shirt

Have I ever seen anything sweeter? I want to smile, she's so adorable, but I don't want to minimize the frustration she is obviously feeling. Then she throws in a STOMP of her foot. This stomp was obviously quite new to her - it looks more like an old lady exercise for the hips, where you raise your knee wide to your side. Yes, a stretch not a stomp. Seriously.

How was I supposed to keep composed? 

I couldn't help it, I couldn't hold it, I burst out laughing - she was just so darn cute! 

I said, "Frog, are you stomping your foot? Like this?" and I mirrored her move, throwing in an additional sound effect as I raised the knee to the side, "woo HOO!" 

She took one look at my move, and started laughing, too - finding me oh so silly. She said, "Yes! Stomp! See!" and then she repeats her wide stomp again, and I do it, too, and I dared to repeat the move with my other leg, alternating back and forth, leg to leg, and she laughs more at how funny this looks and stomps more and we are dancing together and laughing. 

I said, "You are so funny and amazing and I love you so!," as I gently pulled the pink shirt off. 

She chose new clothes without protest.

That was the most unexpected and delightful way I have ever diffused a tantrum - and it's made me chuckle so many times, thinking of that sweet image of her. 

What about a picture walk?

How about a few photos of some of the fun we have enjoyed during March, without any extra words? A photo journal, if you will, of Frog's explorations!

What is another perspective?

There it is, in the distance!

As we walked through the townhouse parking lot, on our walk to the creek, we heard loud, unexpected hammering. Frog didn't like the surprise noise, and wondered what it was and where it was coming from. We stopped and searched, and I held her hand, reassuring. Frog is not a fan of loud noises. 

Poppa found the source of the noise - "There! Look up high on that building, Frog," he directed, "see those workers up there, hammering?" Alongside the townhouse complex is a very tall, twenty stories or so, apartment building. Way, way, way up on the roof, we could see some workers with hammers, making some sort of repair. It took awhile for Frog to follow the direction of our pointed fingers; we squatted down next to her, trying to see the action from her perspective. "Follow the sound, look, look, up high!" She was very excited when she finally saw them, exclaiming "They have hammers!" Her find was immediately followed by more questions, "Why workers up there? Why workers hammering?" and her own opinion, "Too loud." It is surprising how loud the sound's echo was.

The view from the creek

Ever since that day, Frog calls that building "The Hammering Building." She talks about it regularly, especially when we head to the creek. She knows exactly where it is located and now announces authoritatively, mid-walk, "We're going to see The Hammering Building." The Hammering Building is really the only high-rise building in our neighborhood. (We taught Frog that word, too; sometimes she'll add that new word - "The Hammering Building, high-rise.") As far as I know, she associates it only with our house, our neighborhood, though I should ask her parents and make sure - I wonder if she imagines she sees it anywhere else? 

There it is, behind that house!

One day when we picked her up at her house and drove her to ours, we decided to show her The Hammering Building from a new perspective, driving up from a new approach. She was delighted! Being in the car, we were able to drive around the whole building, a "360-view" we laughed. Now, whenever she is with us, she asks, "Will we see The Hammering Building?" 

It's become our own little game - we now try to find a new perspective of the hammering building for her to see. We have found it looming in the distance from a nearby street. We have found it behind some houses on yet another street. We have seen it in the distance from across an athletic field at a nearby middle school. Yes, Poppa, Nana, and Frog enjoy this new game very much!

 Will we see The Hammering Building? 

Should I wash dishes?

 

Is there anything more fun than water for children? Frog's loves to play at the sink, to 'wash dishes.' Throughout the years I taught preschool, I searched for ways that children could just play with water. Certainly, it was a frequent find at the sensory table. I always included children in the washing of things at the sink, at clean up - and even in the midst of projects, there would often be a child or two just playing at the sink. But, nothing beats home for this kind of play - the ability to just linger there, playing in the water, making bubbles, filling cups, emptying, back and forth, fill it, empty it, over and over. This is where my children often were when I was doing prepping dinner, and now my granddaughter has this fun pursuit.

There is such learning in this simple joyous play! This last time, at the sink, Frog poured water out, ever so slowly,
slowly slowly slowly
she poured from a measuring cup, with a pour spout, directly into the sink, 
all the while, watching closely, and she narrates:

"this is like a waterfall, it has a pour, that's where the water comes from here"

These words tell me, she is connecting her play to the small waterfalls she sees all the time in our nearby creek, she is trying to figure out how water works, where it comes from, and more. So much to learn from water!

She is tireless at the sink. 

I am reminded of that colleague - they are in every work environment - who volunteers for extra work and never quite follows through, "Let me do that for you! Sure, I could take that on. Why not let me?" Frog says, over and over, "Want me to wash that for you?" (so polite!) and she'll name a new thing to have in the sink - mixing cups, a saucepan, a spoon. It's so funny to me that nothing ever really gets cleaned, there's just a lot of commotion! 

She is at peace with this play. And so am I.

What if we head to the creek?

We love exploring Sligo Creek park with Frog. We have a ritual where we collect a few sticks, leaves, and/or rocks and toss them into the creek from the bridge. We listen for the sound they make when they hit the water, we watch to see if they float, and, if they do float, we often wander down the path along the creek, watching their progress. 

Frog is curious about everything. We have studied footprints in the mud - is that a dog's? a person's? a bike tire? what is that? We have listened for birds and tried to spot them in the trees. We were very excited to see a woodpecker on a nearby tree. 

For quite awhile, Frog was captivated by berries and we would notice them everywhere - now, nearing the end of winter, berries are pretty much gone. I'm wondering if they will catch her eye when they are back in season, or will this prove to be a passing fancy?

Being out in nature is perhaps my most favorite activity with young children! 

 

What is new?

Two year old Frog is full of questions, and one reins supreme these days - "What is that?" Nothing new or different seems to escape her view. Often, what is new or different is purposefully planned by me - I will set out something playful for her, maybe hiding it in a special box or container first, and leave this near the spot(s) of my house that she most enjoys playing. These provocations always excite her; "what did you find for me?" she asks, "what is new?" 

In recent weeks, I have been madly culling and cleaning and rearranging my home, and this means that there have been many "new to her" things for Frog to notice. When her Nana is a newly-retired preschool teacher, the rewards are many for this youngster! I have created a writing studio for myself in my basement, setting out many of my school journals and photos as inspiration. My days with children are definitely my writing muse; my grandchildren are, as well. The basement is now also a more welcoming space for Frog to play and explore, with all my picture books on bookshelves, and a variety of toys included. We have been spending more and more time in the basement in recent weeks.

The other day, Frog pointed to something at the top of a bookshelf - "What is that?" Hmm. What had I moved there? Oh! It's a catapult! Immediately, she was intrigued and wanted to see it; immediately, I was transported back to my time at a conference at Bev Bos' school, which I had the delight of visiting in the summer of 2011. TEN YEARS AGO. Wow. Has it really been ten years, already?

This little wooden catapult was made especially for preschoolers, and it uses ping-pong balls - there's no one getting hurt by this play! I was excited when I saw it, and bought one on the spot, thinking it would be a fun thing to explore in my classroom. Bev Bos believed passionately in joyful, exploratory play, letting children be curious and figure out things through doing. She (and I) liked to sit back and observe what children did with things - How might they use them? What are the children wondering about? What do they think to do, as they play?

I never ended up bringing that catapult into my classroom. I began teaching at a DC public charter in the fall of 2011, teaching a minimum of 22 preschoolers every year. Although I believe firmly in the whimsical play of the catapult, I couldn't figure out how to bring in this one gadget and share it successfully with so many students, without many of the children feeling left out a good deal of the time. That was NOT an experience I wanted my students to have. Yes, truth is, these early learning years require materially-rich school environments, where children play freely and effortlessly, without fear of there not being enough, without threat of not being included.

That little catapult sat in a closet at my house; I suppose, waiting for grandchildren? I moved it to the top of a bookshelf in the midst of my decluttering and cleaning, and there my dear Frog noticed it.

I got it down from the shelf and placed it in front of Frog, along with the small bin of ping-pong balls, and I said "It's a catapult. What do you think it can do?" There ensued such a happy, laughing time. Frog roared with laughter when the ping-pong ball went sailing into the air over her Poppa's head. Over and over again, she repeated the performance. She had a little trouble keeping the base of the catapult steady, and soon realized that these shifting positions seemed to send the ball into different directions - this cause and effect fascinated her. Frog began to hold the catapult in one place, and then to aim it in certain directions. This is what I love about such discovery - it is ripe with natural, organic learning. Balls flew far and wide, with Poppa and me racing to collect them for her. So many laughs! This fabulous play did not last just a few minutes; in fact, Frog played with the catapult for more than an hour of play, ending only at her nap time. I am awed by how long a young child's attention span really is, when they are engaged in play.

What was her first question upon waking up from nap?  "Catapult, Nana?" 

A few days later, Frog - who is a very verbal 27 month old - reflected on the experience, hoping to play with the catapult again:

"We're going to get the balls and I'm going to push the button and then the ball goes everywhere and we were laughing. That's a catapult. Balls go on when you push a button, it will go. Wanna collect that one ball."

I am reminded about how important it is for children to DO - to discover, tinker, stretch, wonder, figure things out on their own.

I am grateful for Bev Bos and her wisdom about children's play.

I am grateful for Frog and catapults and laughter.

Why are we skipping this?

Earlier this month, a teacher friend called me to check on their read-aloud of the marvelous Martin Luther King, Jr. book, Martin's Big Words by Doreen Rappoport (and beautifully illustrated by Bryan Collier), and wondered

Is this appropriate for three and four year olds?  

Short and easy answer - YES!! 

What makes Martin Luther King, Jr. unforgettable, 

always revered, and celebrated,

is his message of 
love conquering hate, 
solving problems with nonviolence, 
equality for all regardless of skin color, and

taking action to make this world a better place. 

There can be no better message for our youngest learners to hear, I think. And not just around the third Monday in January! I hope these precepts are woven into all our early learning programs, throughout children's education.

What about the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. - should this be shared? Yes, you should read the book as is, honor the writing and the beautiful images. I wonder if tension about this is something only White teachers experience? Am I right? We should ask ourselves - why do we want to gloss over Martin Luther King, Jr.'s death? Are we protecting our children or protecting ourselves? Why would we skip it? Remember, the goal of the book is not the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. The point is to not make his death the story, though it cannot be denied. His life was shortened, taken by another in anger; he died before he should have. Yet, there is extraordinary beauty and hope in what continues to live on, what Martin Luther King, Jr. shared with us - what is his legacy.

Black families and educators have long taught Black history to young children, to all children. White teachers and families need to get on board with this same approach. It is OUR history. We need to love our kids, protect our kids, and share in developmentally appropriate ways about our history. Yes, there are difficult things to share, and there are many positives, many true heroes to tell about. 

One simple tip - it is always a good practice to read books to yourself before reading them aloud to someone else, even if it's just your child, to be certain that you are comfortable and familiar with what is written. (I still wince about my unprepared reading of the book Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech, alongside my eight year old son - oh my! How I fell apart when a character died unexpectedly!) There are times when I have softened language in developmentally appropriate ways, or emphasized certain words, cut sections short, and even paused some books and continued them later, when I sensed that I lost children's attention.  

There are so many great books to share! Here are some excellent book ideas and resources, from Teaching for Change.

Let's be honest with our children.

Let's cultivate caring citizens.

Let's create a better world.  

This week is Black Lives Week of Action (February 1 - 5, 2021) and I am missing being in the classroom, sharing special activities in celebration of this week. I hope that early childhood teachers and families are embracing this call. Our recent history, with the Capitol riot, shows how we can no longer afford ignorance.

How do we go on?

Yesterday, 

when our nation seemed to fall apart at its seams,

when an angry mob stormed the U.S. Capitol,

so many horrifying images flashing across the screen,

my granddaughter Frog was here for her ritual Wednesday at NanaPoppa's, sound asleep for her afternoon nap.

I am reminded of the blessing of children, the extraordinary gift of their presence.

When she woke up,

in the midst of the insanity,

we turned off all the news and gave 100% attention to this sweet two year old child. We kept her world safe and tender, we renewed ourselves. 

Yes, it was time to turn on music, get out the playdough, and make muffins. We found a big piece of scrap paper and drew pictures, everything Frog loved ...she directed me to draw a Christmas tree, a jack-o-lantern, holiday lights, an angel, a dinosaur. We read books. Soon we noticed that the sun had set, so we went for our 'night walk' - a tradition that has evolved since the days have become shorter...coats and hats on, camping lantern in hand, we hold hands and walk our neighborhood block, to see what we can see. Yesterday was FREEZING, despite our warm jackets, and we didn't last long. We noticed that some holiday lights were no longer up - but we saw our neighbor's silly dragon with the Santa hat and that was fun. Back inside, it was time for dinner, a slow and meandering buffet of her favorites, including of all things, frozen blueberries. What is it that delights her about these? So funny! Then, it was time for a long bubble bath, reading books, and saying our good nights at bedtime. Frog fell asleep easily and joyfully. That's all that really matters to me.

Guess what, the news was waiting for us.

We didn't miss any of the horror.

It's always there.

Children are life-giving. To be in their midst, to truly hone in and escape through their magical presence, is to take the very best care of oneself.

I am reminded of a wall plaque my mother-in-law gave to me when our first child was born, which says:

Babies are God's way of saying the world must go on.