So what do you do when your blog host tells you that after 363 total posts and many more photos, you've maxed out your photo usage?
You pack up and find a new host. So that's what we've done. Seriously, the folks at Google's blogging corner won't let me post any more photos to this blog, so this running story -- or photo album, or collection of anecdotes, or bits of bragging, or digital diary of parenting blunders or whatever this blog has become -- is moving to a new site.
Now, everything that's been posted up until now will remain accessible at this web address -- for those who want to escape utter boredom by going back to April 2009 or October 2010 or whenever -- but from now on (I think) we'll only be posting at this new address:
http://scottandanni.wordpress.com/
A perk about the new site is that it will include all of the old content, save for videos. (I'm working on that.) Of course, the wordpress site is a work in progress, in part because it's a different blogging platform that requires a bit more familiarity, but we'll get up to speed shortly.
So bookmark the new address in your browser or save it in whatever way you save your most important passwords. (For me, that involves creating a notepad file called "passwords" and saving it on the desktop because that's secure...)
Anyway, once again the new blog is at: http://scottandanni.wordpress.com.
See you there.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Monday, December 19, 2011
The writing on the stall
I took Elise with me to Home Depot the other day. (Disclaimer: I prefer Menards to Home Depot, but sometimes convenience takes priority.)
After a good amount of time shopping, tossing 2x4s on the pallet, pushing her in the oversized cart and counting bolts, Elise had to go to the bathroom.
Now, for background, we've really been working with her on identifying letters. She likes trying to guess them on books and random objects, and often will ask what a word "says." So we take advantage of those brief letter-learning moments whenever they present themselves.
Not always, though.
After finding the cleanest (well, least dirty) stall in the men's room and completing the proper sanitation exercise, it was time for Elise to use the facilities. Except that she was preoccupied by the writing on the wall of the stall.
"What's this word, Daddy?" she asked.
I didn't answer, for reasons obvious to anyone who's seen public bathroom graffiti.
After a good amount of time shopping, tossing 2x4s on the pallet, pushing her in the oversized cart and counting bolts, Elise had to go to the bathroom.
Now, for background, we've really been working with her on identifying letters. She likes trying to guess them on books and random objects, and often will ask what a word "says." So we take advantage of those brief letter-learning moments whenever they present themselves.
Not always, though.
After finding the cleanest (well, least dirty) stall in the men's room and completing the proper sanitation exercise, it was time for Elise to use the facilities. Except that she was preoccupied by the writing on the wall of the stall.
"What's this word, Daddy?" she asked.
I didn't answer, for reasons obvious to anyone who's seen public bathroom graffiti.
I guess that's correct
The other night Elise and I were sitting at the table finishing dinner. Anni had left the room to feed Colin.
This was the conversation that broke our silence and led to more of it:
Elise: "Where's mom?"
Me: "She's feeding Colin?"
Elise: "On her boob?"
Me, after long pause to consider whether this was the time to correct, applaud, explain or otherwise deal with the use of slang: "Uh, yeah, I guess."
This was the conversation that broke our silence and led to more of it:
Elise: "Where's mom?"
Me: "She's feeding Colin?"
Elise: "On her boob?"
Me, after long pause to consider whether this was the time to correct, applaud, explain or otherwise deal with the use of slang: "Uh, yeah, I guess."
'Where is my Jell-O?'
Sometimes Elise needs a translator. Or sometimes we just need a transcript.
The little lady can be mum and shy in front of others, and then moments later can be heard running off nonstop. It's often a mix of words and modified songs.
To explain this, here is a recent candid video of when Elise was goofing around and just rambling. It may be something that only Anni and I can appreciate, but it's like a strange glimpse deep into the developing mind and personality of a nearly 3-year-old.
To help you understand what she's saying, I made a transcript. Anni says the "bunny" reference is a riff on the "Little Bunny Foo Foo" tale, a current favorite of Elise's. So we've got that figured out. I did not know, however, that Colin already is asking for food and we just haven't heard him yet. I'm glad Elise can translate.
Anyway, to the transcript:
"Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. I love you, Mr. Colin Boy.
Happy, happy, happy... (inaudible babble).
Little bunny, Colin Boy! Happy. Little bunny, Colin Boy. Love you, Colin Boy, yes.
He says, 'Where is my Jell-O?'"
The little lady can be mum and shy in front of others, and then moments later can be heard running off nonstop. It's often a mix of words and modified songs.
To explain this, here is a recent candid video of when Elise was goofing around and just rambling. It may be something that only Anni and I can appreciate, but it's like a strange glimpse deep into the developing mind and personality of a nearly 3-year-old.
To help you understand what she's saying, I made a transcript. Anni says the "bunny" reference is a riff on the "Little Bunny Foo Foo" tale, a current favorite of Elise's. So we've got that figured out. I did not know, however, that Colin already is asking for food and we just haven't heard him yet. I'm glad Elise can translate.
Anyway, to the transcript:
"Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. I love you, Mr. Colin Boy.
Happy, happy, happy... (inaudible babble).
Little bunny, Colin Boy! Happy. Little bunny, Colin Boy. Love you, Colin Boy, yes.
He says, 'Where is my Jell-O?'"
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Muggin' with the man in red
Today was the annual holiday party at Anni's school. Cute kids, Christmas songs, reindeer and angel costumes, desserts -- the whole deal.
Oh, and a piñata.
Yeah, a piñata. Because isn't that at every holiday gathering in Minnesota?
I actually thought Anni was joking when she told me they have a piñata, but after the party today I see why. The kids had a ball -- almost as much as the parents who got called up to take a swing at the floating creche Christmas tree.
Santa made an appearance as well. As you can see, Colin didn't seem all too bothered by the jolly fella. Probably didn't even notice I had handed him off.
And in a surprise holiday gesture Elise decided she wanted to meet Santa. You talk about your Christmas miracles. This, coming from a girl who sometimes needs time to warm up to her own parents.
As she moved up the waiting line and closer to Santa, I could tell she was getting a little nervous. She then said she didn't want to sit on his lap. At some point there was a compromise: she'd stand in front of Santa.
Fair enough. But then she insisted on taking his basket of candy canes.
Well, sorry, ol' man Kringle. If the lady wants your basket, she's going to get it because Dad can't post a photo of one kid with Santa but not one of the other.
She got the basket. I got the photo. Santa got his basket back.
Oh, and a piñata.
Yeah, a piñata. Because isn't that at every holiday gathering in Minnesota?
I actually thought Anni was joking when she told me they have a piñata, but after the party today I see why. The kids had a ball -- almost as much as the parents who got called up to take a swing at the floating creche Christmas tree.
Santa made an appearance as well. As you can see, Colin didn't seem all too bothered by the jolly fella. Probably didn't even notice I had handed him off.
And in a surprise holiday gesture Elise decided she wanted to meet Santa. You talk about your Christmas miracles. This, coming from a girl who sometimes needs time to warm up to her own parents.
As she moved up the waiting line and closer to Santa, I could tell she was getting a little nervous. She then said she didn't want to sit on his lap. At some point there was a compromise: she'd stand in front of Santa.
Fair enough. But then she insisted on taking his basket of candy canes.
Well, sorry, ol' man Kringle. If the lady wants your basket, she's going to get it because Dad can't post a photo of one kid with Santa but not one of the other.
She got the basket. I got the photo. Santa got his basket back.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Don't interrupt to ask
When a child offers to wash dishes, you don't stop to ask why she wants to do that; you just let her get going.
You do, however, give those dishes a little extra look before putting them in the cupboard.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
'Nikko puppy'
The other night we were eating dinner at my parents' house. Colin was having a difficult time falling asleep for a much-needed nap in the next room. Every time he cried, my parents' dog, Nikko, would trot into the living room, just to check on the little guy making noise. Then the dog would quietly wander off until the next time.
Ever since Elise's first overnight at my parents' place, Nikko was very protective of her. Always keeping tabs on her, sleeping next to her pack-and-play and later the bed, wisely staking out a spot beneath her at the dinner table, bounding up and down the stairs ahead of her, waking and walking from my parents' room to Elise's room if he heard her cry out in the middle of the night.
Basically doing what good dogs do.
"Nikko puppy!" Elise would say when she'd hear his eager bark from the back deck when we arrived at my parents' house.
She really liked the dog. Oh, the dog got in her business plenty of times, knocked her over every now and then, and sometimes scared her. But in turn she was known to squeeze his mouth and nose in an odd display of affection. She poked his eyes a few too many times. Probably yanked on his tail plenty. He put up with it, most likely because he saw the giant scoop of food Elise would get for him and the trail of crumbs she sometimes left behind.
We don't have a dog at home, which is OK for now, but it's been nice to know my parents' dog is mellow enough to accommodate the gentle terror of a child.
Which makes the upcoming task all the more difficult.
Nikko died this morning. It was a rather sudden case of something called bloat, a common and often deadly ailment in some dogs. Basically, the symptoms started last night and my dad got Nikko to the vet this morning just as he died.
So, yeah, that pretty much sucks. He was the ideal dog for my parents at this stage and a perfect match for a house where small children sometimes roam.
We'll need to tell Elise about Nikko. She's old enough to feel loss but not old enough to comprehend. Sure, it's a dog, not a person, but it's a new lesson for her, even if she is just shy of 3 years old.
We'll do our best to tell her what happened, but Anni and my dad had an even better idea. Go right to Mr. Rogers. There is a series of Mr. Rogers books dealing with significant life events for young children. The book series includes one about the loss of a pet. My hunch is that will be her preferred bedtime reading for a good stretch.
For Elise's first birthday Anni and I got her a really nice stuffed animal. It's a collie, a "Nikko puppy," as Elise calls it. The idea at the time was she could have a dog at my parents' house and something that resembled it at home. She still has the stuffed animal, so I'm curious to see how she interacts with it once we tell her about Nikko.
Ever since Elise's first overnight at my parents' place, Nikko was very protective of her. Always keeping tabs on her, sleeping next to her pack-and-play and later the bed, wisely staking out a spot beneath her at the dinner table, bounding up and down the stairs ahead of her, waking and walking from my parents' room to Elise's room if he heard her cry out in the middle of the night.
Basically doing what good dogs do.
"Nikko puppy!" Elise would say when she'd hear his eager bark from the back deck when we arrived at my parents' house.
She really liked the dog. Oh, the dog got in her business plenty of times, knocked her over every now and then, and sometimes scared her. But in turn she was known to squeeze his mouth and nose in an odd display of affection. She poked his eyes a few too many times. Probably yanked on his tail plenty. He put up with it, most likely because he saw the giant scoop of food Elise would get for him and the trail of crumbs she sometimes left behind.
We don't have a dog at home, which is OK for now, but it's been nice to know my parents' dog is mellow enough to accommodate the gentle terror of a child.
Which makes the upcoming task all the more difficult.
Nikko died this morning. It was a rather sudden case of something called bloat, a common and often deadly ailment in some dogs. Basically, the symptoms started last night and my dad got Nikko to the vet this morning just as he died.
So, yeah, that pretty much sucks. He was the ideal dog for my parents at this stage and a perfect match for a house where small children sometimes roam.
We'll need to tell Elise about Nikko. She's old enough to feel loss but not old enough to comprehend. Sure, it's a dog, not a person, but it's a new lesson for her, even if she is just shy of 3 years old.
We'll do our best to tell her what happened, but Anni and my dad had an even better idea. Go right to Mr. Rogers. There is a series of Mr. Rogers books dealing with significant life events for young children. The book series includes one about the loss of a pet. My hunch is that will be her preferred bedtime reading for a good stretch.
For Elise's first birthday Anni and I got her a really nice stuffed animal. It's a collie, a "Nikko puppy," as Elise calls it. The idea at the time was she could have a dog at my parents' house and something that resembled it at home. She still has the stuffed animal, so I'm curious to see how she interacts with it once we tell her about Nikko.
Numbers, letters
Two minor proud parent moments:
Elise counted to 14 the other night.
Tonight she identified every letter in this book title: "Let's go to the farm."
OK, she didn't get the apostrophe correct. What a slacker.
Elise counted to 14 the other night.
Tonight she identified every letter in this book title: "Let's go to the farm."
OK, she didn't get the apostrophe correct. What a slacker.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Paging Norman Rockwell
My hometown of Stillwater has been known to do a few things right. It didn't knock down historic buildings in the '60s or '70s, so that's nice. It knows how to react to a flooded river, which is handy. I'm told it can put on an impressive summertime fire muster, but you have to see that to be believe it.
Beyond all else, Stillwater knows how to capitalize on its quaint charm, which it retains in the face of time, tourists, sprawl and Skynyrd. (Still living that one down.)
So it only makes sense that Stillwater can successfully pull off a fun little Christmas event for kids and families -- and older kids -- that doesn't cost participants a nickle, features Santa arriving aboard a fire truck, includes free treats to warm the masses and ends with fireworks.
We took Elise last weekend to Stillwater's Twinkle Parade, which despite the corny name actually is a pretty good time in a small-town, it-doesn't-take-much-to-put-us-in-a-festive-mood kind of way.
Basically, a few hundred people stand at the end of the levee, sipping cocoa and coffee while kids mill about, and then they walk -- you don't parade in parkas and Sorels -- along the levee to the picturesque gazebo, where Santa arrives to greet the young'uns and light the downtown Christmas tree.
The conditions were perfect: a light snow falling, but not too cold. Elise had a good time, though the up-close encounter with Santa was a bit much for her. She prefers to see the man in the rumpled red suit from a distance. She did, however, enjoy the rumble of the fire truck. She figured out that she could feel the engine rumble by holding the hand bell on the front of the truck. Sometimes it doesn't take much to entertain her.
Beyond all else, Stillwater knows how to capitalize on its quaint charm, which it retains in the face of time, tourists, sprawl and Skynyrd. (Still living that one down.)
So it only makes sense that Stillwater can successfully pull off a fun little Christmas event for kids and families -- and older kids -- that doesn't cost participants a nickle, features Santa arriving aboard a fire truck, includes free treats to warm the masses and ends with fireworks.
We took Elise last weekend to Stillwater's Twinkle Parade, which despite the corny name actually is a pretty good time in a small-town, it-doesn't-take-much-to-put-us-in-a-festive-mood kind of way.
Basically, a few hundred people stand at the end of the levee, sipping cocoa and coffee while kids mill about, and then they walk -- you don't parade in parkas and Sorels -- along the levee to the picturesque gazebo, where Santa arrives to greet the young'uns and light the downtown Christmas tree.
The conditions were perfect: a light snow falling, but not too cold. Elise had a good time, though the up-close encounter with Santa was a bit much for her. She prefers to see the man in the rumpled red suit from a distance. She did, however, enjoy the rumble of the fire truck. She figured out that she could feel the engine rumble by holding the hand bell on the front of the truck. Sometimes it doesn't take much to entertain her.
Don't miss a chance to work on letters.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Windy City jaunt
We resumed our annual Thanksgiving in Chicago tradition this year. We packed up the car -- apparently two children mean four times the luggage, even when you think you're traveling modestly -- and drove down Wednesday night. Both kids slept the whole way, meaning the only way it would've been a better ride was if someone else drove so Anni and I both also could sleep the whole way.
We had a great visit with extended family. We stayed with my Aunt Renee and Uncle Fritz -- thanks again -- and managed to squeeze in a trip downtown (see below) and a lunch with some old friends (longtime friends; they're not old) before heading home late Saturday. Again, the kids slept the whole way; that's the only way to travel if you can stay awake yourself.
We had a great visit with extended family. We stayed with my Aunt Renee and Uncle Fritz -- thanks again -- and managed to squeeze in a trip downtown (see below) and a lunch with some old friends (longtime friends; they're not old) before heading home late Saturday. Again, the kids slept the whole way; that's the only way to travel if you can stay awake yourself.
The girl likes black olives. They taste best fresh from the fingertips.
Watercolor painting during some downtime.
Trying to bust into the display loot at Macy's in Chicago. (Aside: Who hangs a life-size doll on a Christmas tree?)
Bryan and Elise in Santa's chair at Macy's.
Ariane and a very giggly child.
Elise playing Candyland with Veronica, who, if I do my family connections correctly, is her third cousin.
A last-minute game of Candyland with my Aunt Renee before leaving for home.
Well, this pretty much sums up the family: Two crazy gals, boring me and a chillin' Colin.
After the picture: "Wait, where's Elise?"
Colin and my dad.
After the picture: "Wait, where's Colin?"
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Little girl, big city.
On Black Friday, Anni and I took Elise to downtown Chicago with my brother. We wanted her to ride on the 'L' and to see the holiday decorations and, perhaps most importantly, to have an opportunity to run around at Millenium Park. For many reasons it's the best city park I've ever seen.
What struck me as we wandered around downtown was how small Elise looked compared to her surroundings. Some of that juxtaposition is captured in some of these pictures. At least that was the attempt.
What struck me as we wandered around downtown was how small Elise looked compared to her surroundings. Some of that juxtaposition is captured in some of these pictures. At least that was the attempt.
Waiting for the Blue Line.
She enjoyed the ride.
Macy's sure isn't Marshall Fields. The old downtown department store that used to feature impressive, traditional holiday displays now sells out, turning over the windows to clothing and apparel designers to decorate how they want. The result? Elise checked out the first two, then got bored. We did too.
She was wowed by the store's many floors, Christmas decorations and the tiny people seven stories below.
Beats refrigerator magnets: Elise works on her letters during a break at Macy's.
You can lay down beneath the bean, so we did.
Guess this is a beaning smile. (Yes, I am lame.)
If you haven't been to the park, imagine a two-story stainless steel bean-shaped artwork. I don't know squat about sculpture, but this thing easily trumps our own Cherry on a Spoon. The bean -- called Cloud Gate -- is made of shiny stainless steel, which creates cool reflections. Here's me being very unoriginal.
There is a nice view of downtown from the park. The ladies are overlooking the park's outdoor ice skating rink below the ice.
A bit squirmy.
Trying to bolt at the aptly named Chase Promenade.
Running at the Crown Fountain. It's made of clear glass blocks and displays really large images of Chicagoans -- and their big teeth and nostrils. Oh, and it shoots water in the summer.
Ledge walker meets homeless musician.
And then there's this.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Hey, Chuckles.
Colin has only laughed hard at two people -- Anni and Ariane, my dad's cousin. Moments after Ariane sat down with Colin, he got the chuckles. Pretty funny.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
It's here...
Saturday morning I was cleaning up some leaves and brush from the yard.
Saturday afternoon we were debating whether to drive to Anni's sister's house because of the snow and crummy roads.
Sunday morning we were enjoying the snow.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
C-boy at 3 months
Colin -- or Colin Boy, as Elise still calls him -- is 3 months old today. It's also Election Day, so Anni took him and Elise to vote this morning. (Yes, I voted too.)
Anyway, at 3 months he just started to laugh. We missed video of him when he was really chuckling the other day, but the video above gives you an idea of how chipper he is. (Note: Be glad it's Anni, not me, making silly noises with him.)
Besides chuckling, the little guy likes to smile.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Well, aren't you sweet
Colin was having an off day -- maybe Daylight Savings Time messed with him like it did Elise two years ago; seriously, it did -- and at one point he was crying and just generally having a snit as I was holding him.
Apparently it was obvious I was struggling with him because a very honest-sounding Elise suggested what might be the problem:
"Maybe he just doesn't like you."
Apparently it was obvious I was struggling with him because a very honest-sounding Elise suggested what might be the problem:
"Maybe he just doesn't like you."
Monday, October 31, 2011
A songbird with stage fright
Anni's school had its annual Halloween party the other day. It was a chance for Elise to try out the red bird costume (see the blog entry below for red bird details) and to partake in the preschool party activities.
Those activities include a brief concert of Halloween songs. For Elise, though, it wasn't brief enough. The girl will sing by herself all day long, reciting some songs word for word and riffing extensively on others. She sings in the car, on the toilet and over the crying of her brother. If for no other reason, her loud crooning is cute because it's done without a bit of embarrassment.
But she is not a show pony.
She rarely will sing on cue or for an audience. Such was the case at the school party. She sat up front with her preschool friends and had a good time, but wouldn't belt out one note. That's fine, though it's interesting that she's already figured out that she doesn't like being trotted out on stage.
Once the concert was over, Elise had a ball at the school party.
Those activities include a brief concert of Halloween songs. For Elise, though, it wasn't brief enough. The girl will sing by herself all day long, reciting some songs word for word and riffing extensively on others. She sings in the car, on the toilet and over the crying of her brother. If for no other reason, her loud crooning is cute because it's done without a bit of embarrassment.
But she is not a show pony.
She rarely will sing on cue or for an audience. Such was the case at the school party. She sat up front with her preschool friends and had a good time, but wouldn't belt out one note. That's fine, though it's interesting that she's already figured out that she doesn't like being trotted out on stage.
Once the concert was over, Elise had a ball at the school party.
Anni with the blue bird.
Waiting for the concert.
A bird's eye view
I found some of Elise's artwork hanging from the ceiling.
Birding on Halloween
About a month or two ago Anni asked Elise what she would like to be for Halloween.
She wanted to be a bird. After discussing colors, they settled on a red bird.
So that was that. Anni set about making a red bird costume. She found a red sweatshirt and bought felt and started cutting feathers -- well over a hundred of them. She attached them to the back of the sweatshirt, gave the bird a beak and eyes and -- voila! -- Elise had a red bird costume.
Actually, it took quite a bit longer than that. It turned out great, though.
So then Anni made a bird costume for herself. A red-winged blackbird, to be accurate. (It was so accurate that Roger Tory Peterson would've whistled at her.)
Tonight the red bird hit the neighborhood trick-or-treating, bouncing from house to house. (OK, there were only five houses, but a little bucket full of candy is still a bucket full of candy to a 2-year-old.) Elise was either excited or antsy by the time we reached our next-door neighbors' house. It was our last stop.
She walked to the door, knocked and yelled, "Hey!!"
They answered, dished out candy and the red bird returned to the nest to tally her loot. It was a good holiday.
She wanted to be a bird. After discussing colors, they settled on a red bird.
So that was that. Anni set about making a red bird costume. She found a red sweatshirt and bought felt and started cutting feathers -- well over a hundred of them. She attached them to the back of the sweatshirt, gave the bird a beak and eyes and -- voila! -- Elise had a red bird costume.
Actually, it took quite a bit longer than that. It turned out great, though.
So then Anni made a bird costume for herself. A red-winged blackbird, to be accurate. (It was so accurate that Roger Tory Peterson would've whistled at her.)
Tonight the red bird hit the neighborhood trick-or-treating, bouncing from house to house. (OK, there were only five houses, but a little bucket full of candy is still a bucket full of candy to a 2-year-old.) Elise was either excited or antsy by the time we reached our next-door neighbors' house. It was our last stop.
She walked to the door, knocked and yelled, "Hey!!"
They answered, dished out candy and the red bird returned to the nest to tally her loot. It was a good holiday.
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