Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Snip

There was only one way to describe Elise's hair after we had let it grow untouched and unsnipped for her first two years, and it's a word that seems to fit this situation perfectly: "ragamuffin."
So, with hair falling across her face and down to her chin we brought Elise in for her first haircut last week. The experience started days earlier, though, as we began to prep her for her first haircut. Basically that means just constantly repeating the same questions: "Where are we going tomorrow?" and "Are you going to get your hair cut?"
We decided to use a woman who cuts my hair.
Anni packed a couple of small snacks (ply 'er with fruit snacks) and Elise was fine until it was time to sit in the swivel chair alone. She wanted none of that. Given the choice of either coddling her and getting her hair cut or insisting she sit alone in the chair for her hair cut and watching her delve into complete meltdown, we opted for the former strategy and Anni sat in the chair with Elise on her lap. 
Deb (the stylist/hair cutter) did a great job cleaning up Elise's sandy-blonde and long locks. I think Anni said Elise had about 3 inches lopped from the back of her hair. It looks much better now.

Entertained with a sucker.




 


Monday, April 25, 2011

Easter '11

It didn't take a lot of teaching for Elise to learn this new skill:
"Go find the Easter eggs with an 'E' on them," we told her as the cousins' Easter egg hunt started at Anni's sister Jenee's house. "Those are yours. Put them in your basket."
And with that she was off, running around the yard and having a blast. We ought to hide stuff in the yard at home more often to wear off her energy.
Anyway, we had a very enjoyable Easter with both families. Elise did great at church, got a kick out of her new camp chair from my parents and did well in her inaugural appearance at the kids' table at dinner with Anni's family. Then she was off to hunt for eggs, hidden by Anni's dad. All in all, a good day.

Elise woke up at 6:30 a.m. Sunday, seemingly knowing there was an Easter basket hiding downstairs for her and apparently unaware it all could have waited at least another half-hour or so.

Discovering there was chocolate in the basket.

Eating said chocolate.

She's got the style of Shirley Temple and the poorly timed look of an orphan. But even I'll admit, she was pretty cute. There is a back story to the coat: Anni's mom wore that when she was 2 years old. Vintage? A wise son-in-law wouldn't suggest such a thing. Classy? Yeah.

Cousins
  
 In pursuit.



She just kept running.



  

Taking a break to crack an egg, discovering that the quiet ones have green paper in them...

Chillin' with cousin Jacob. And, no, this was not posed. They were looking for stars.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Happy Easter

More to come...

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Thedutchstudy

Five years ago -- or was it six? -- Anni and I went to Amsterdam to visit Bryan when he was taking classes there during college. It was a memorable trip for two reasons: we got engaged (without Bryan), but almost as importantly, we learned about the Dutch penchant for grammatical brevity.
In other words, the Dutch seemed to prefer to randomly combine words by just eliminating spaces. There did not appear to be any reasoning behind why some words were combined without spaces while others were spaced. The best example of this was a popular tourist stop called "houseboatmuseum." Yes, in addition to the requisite Amsterdam tourist stops (figure those out for yourselves) there is a museum on a houseboat. Our entry ticket actually reads, "Houseboatmuseum," because, apparently, spaces aren't necessary.
To this day we sometimes joke about that silly Dutch eccentricity, and we were reminded of it again recently when we took Elise to hang out with the Dutch for a morning.
.....
Backing up a bit: Several months ago Anni saw that the University of Minnesota was seeking families with young children to volunteer for child development studies. We fit the residency requirements (they wanted Ramsey County residents, for some reason) and Elise fit the age category. I was reluctant to give out our information -- I imagined that telemarketers in lab coats were on the receiving end -- but eventually agreed with Anni that we should offer up Elise for some harmless testing with the hope that it could be kind of interesting. (Plus, she's brilliant, of course, so we might as well get that confirmed in a journal article with footnotes and the whole bit.) We weren't obligated to participate, but who wouldn't want to play lab rat?
A couple of weeks ago Anni got a call from Caas, a University of Minnesota researcher who wondered if we would like to have Elise participate in a "Dutch language study."
Caas was Dutch ("like suitCASE," he told Anni) and very polite, so Anni obliged. He told us to show up at a building on the U campus in Minneapolis. Elise would take part in a brief study and then would be on our merry way.
.....
We showed up and were greeted outside by a research assistant, who led us into the building and to the study lobby, where there were a bunch of toys on the floor. The researchers wanted kids to play for a bit to get comfortable before moving to another room for the actual study.
Before I could even get Elise's jacket off, Caas approached Elise and just started talking to her in Dutch and offering toys for her to play with. It caught me by surprise, but it didn't seem to bother Elise. She was shy, but immediately sat down and started checking out the toys. Caas sat down and started playing with her, the whole time speaking in Dutch. She was not fazed, just focused on the toys.
Then a younger man named Hans sat down next to the two of them and also started in with the Dutch. So there's Elise, playing with toys and listening to two strangers speaking Dutch, I suppose to get her somewhat familiar with them and the unusual sounds.


As Elise played puzzles with grown men speaking words she'd never heard before, I filled out the consent form and Anni and I were briefed on the actual study. Put simply, the researchers are studying how children learn language and, for instance, whether they identify a new word (in a foreign language; hence the Dutch) when spoken by one person, and then by another. It's more complicated than that and involves phrases like the desire to answer questions "about the socio-pragmatic processes of language acquisition," but basically they want to know how kids learn a language.
After about 10 minutes of playing, it was time to start the study. We brought Elise into a small office with Caas. He sat on one side of a table while Anni sat on the other and put Elise in her lap. The dorky guy in the background with the camera was me. (Long blog entries are more palatable with pictures sprinkled in.)
The study went like this: Caas would hold up an object such as a cup and pronounce the word in Dutch several times, all the while talking conversationally to Elise in Dutch. Then he would put the object on a tray, slide it over to Elise and encourage her to pick it up and put it in a box. He spoke the whole time and eventually introduced a second object into the routine, identifying each one and then putting them on the tray. She caught on quickly to the "game," and in short time was picking up the object and putting it in the box.


Then Caas was replaced by Hans, who came in the room, sat down and did the same thing with the objects. Each guy spent about 5 to 10 minutes speaking to Elise in Dutch and asking her to pick up the objects and put them in the box. The researchers used two video cameras to record the session, to later review how Elise responded and whether she started to identify objects by their Dutch name, regardless of which guy was talking to her.
Before long the study was over and we went back to the toy room.


While Elise played, Anni and I talked briefly with the researchers. They are seeking about a dozen children, ages 22 months to 26 months, to participate. They will compile the results within a few months and, assuming a paper or summary is written, we will receive a copy of the conclusion or findings.
At one point while we were talking to Caas he dropped a bombshell on us: The other man who was referred to as Hans wasn't really a Hans.
"His name is Joe," Caas said matter-of-factly. "We just call him Hans because it sounds better for the kids." In other words, "Hans" sounds Dutch, but Hans probably was just a college student helping with the study in part because he could speak Dutch. It was pretty funny, even though I later admitted feeling duped that I did not suspect that Hans wasn't really Hans. Oh, the scandal!
Anyway, at that point the study was over and we packed up to leave. Caas led us toward our car. Elise made fast friends with him and he walked her from the building.


We left with a good story, a glimpse at child development research and a cool T-shirt for Elise with the name of the research center on it. (Unfortunately, the shirt didn't read, "My parents made me a lab rat and all I got was this crummy T-shirt.")
I was trying to teach Elise the words describing what took place. As we drove home, I asked her where we had just been.
"The Dutch study," she said.
Or was it, "thedutchstudy"?

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Good thing it's not broth

We took Elise to one of our favorite Vietnamese restaurants, Hoa Bien in St. Paul, on Sunday after a morning of splashin' at the community pool.
The waitress gave Anni and I chopsticks. Anni used them. I tried, but gave up at the first hint of an impending case of carpal tunnel. So they sat on the edge of my plate until Elise asked for them -- and then proceeded to eat the rest of her lunch with relative ease. Sure, it wasn't refined, but how is that possible? The lady still is honing her cutlery skills and now she's moving on to chopsticks? And better than me?!
The waitress noticed her picking up her noodles and vegetables with the chopsticks.
"She could be part Asian," the waitress said.
That's unlikely, but we played along.
As we were leaving the restaurant Elise asked for a fortune cookie. They don't offer them at the restaurant, but Anni told Elise she had one at home that she could have. (Who doesn't have fortune cookies in stock?)
So we got home and what's the first thing Elise asked for? The fortune cookie. I opened it to see the fortune. I kid you not, it actually said:
"You are talented with your hands."

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Before the mighty garden...

... there was the official spring seed planting.
Anni and Elise planted some veggie seeds in starter pots today. We may be free of any more snowfall accumulation this spring, but it doesn't mean there still isn't frost just below the muddy topsoil in the garden. Just a few more weeks...

Friday, April 8, 2011

1 and 1



It was the obligatory 20-week ultrasound earlier this week, and we decided to bring Elise along because what kid doesn't like a silent movie in black and white? Actually, it was Anni's idea to bring her; I was opposed on the grounds that it'd be messing up her breakfast routine. (That's the most important meal of the day, you know.) In the end, common sense prevailed, rigidity was defeated and, well, Elise just ate early and then tagged along for the screening.
Since it's Child #2, I'll admit there is a bit of the going-through-the-motions feel to these appointments. At least there is for me, anyway. However, I still get hit with a profound pause-in-awe moment when that monitor turns on and out of nowhere you see a child scooting around in there.
And was that child ever scooting around. The body was floating around, the arms were moving and the legs, those seemingly long legs, were lounging and then kicking, scrunching and then extending.
The nurse (she's probably got a different title, but I haven't the slightest idea what it is) did all of the measurements -- leg bones, arm bones, head circumference and diameter, brain, heart, kidneys, etc. -- and everything checked out fine. Amazing that the little blurb of dark, dark gray you see on the screen is actually the child's aorta.
They weighed the baby -- or estimated the weight, I suppose -- and put it at 1 lb. 1 oz.
"That's like a package of ground beef," I said.
Anni and the nurse weren't amused by the comparison.
Here's what amused us: That child was stubborn enough to keep one of its hands in the way so that the nurse couldn't view one of the legs. You know how you fix that? Apparently you bonk the ultrasound wand on the belly a few times. It worked. The baby moved and the fibula was measured.
The ultrasound lasts about 15 to 20 minutes, and I still think it's the best silent film you could watch.
So what did Elise think? Well, she sat on my lap for a while and watched as the nurse lathered up Anni's belly with ultrasound jelly and then started the ultrasound. After about 5 minutes, though, Elise treated the ultrasound monitor like she does the TV at home -- got bored with it and started looking around for something else to do. Soon she had a new obsession: the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall by the door.
Bottom line: Anni's feeling pretty good, the baby looks to be doing well, I got to watch a great movie and Elise, well, she discovered hand sanitizer.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Well, hello in there.

More on Child #2 soon. For now, a photo from today's ultrasound:





Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Jet setter

Anni walked into Elise's classroom today at school and saw that she was wearing a hat and carrying a backpack. Anni asked Elise where she was going.
"I'm going to the airport," Elise said.
Of course.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

'Bouncy ball'


If you want proof that we don't stage photos for this blog, here it is.
This is a very candid shot of the cheap seats during the recent March Madness tournament. It was so candid, in fact, that I didn't even have a chance to dust the chip crumbs off my shirt or to suggest I not be photographed in pajama pants.
And the seats were so cheap that I did not even get Elise as much as a glass of water to go with her bowl of tortilla chips.
We've figured out that Elise will watch three things on television before (thankfully) getting bored: about 5 minutes of a "Little People" episode; roughly 10 minutes of "This Old House," which really says something about her tolerance level; and about 15 minutes of college "bouncy ball," or as the rest of us call it, basketball.
She has watched enough now to know to announce "He made it!" after someone scores. 
She's not ready to play defense, though, as the behind-the-back dribble still confounds her: "Where's the bouncy ball?" she'll ask.