Spring booted

We had spring-like weather last weekend -- sun, temps in the 40s and plenty of melting. You wouldn't know that if you looked outside this morning -- no sun, temps in the lower 20s, strong winds and winter's taunting mixture of sleet, four inches of snow and a bit of ice just to really stick it to us.

So it was nice last weekend to let Elise put on her new mud boots and go out in search of mud in the yard. It made us think of how much we covet summer months.

Until then, photos with oh-so-fleeting glimpses of actual grass -- and mud -- in Minnesota in March:

Are you late for a date or something?

The other night the three of us were eating dinner. Elise was just about done, but still focused on the task at hand. Then suddenly she stopped eating, paused, looked up at us and asked:

"What time is it?"

A dip and a Punch

So you got the low-down on Elise's 2nd birthday party (see below) but I neglected to post about Elise's actual birthday.
Last year Anni and I took the day off on Elise's birthday and the three of us headed to the Children's Museum in St. Paul, as a way to celebrate outside of the traditional birthday party. It was a good time and the start of a tradition -- if two years in a row counts as tradition.
This year, Elise's birthday party was on a Saturday, her actual birthday the following Sunday. We decided to take Elise swimming on her birthday. She loves water -- lakes, bath tubs, spray bottles -- so after breakfast Sunday we hustled over to the Maplewood Community Center, which has an indoor pool with an area for little kids, a water slide, etc. Turns out we had the pool to ourselves for most of the visit. Elise had a blast marching around in the wading pool and splashing and generally being a kid in water. We discovered something new to do in the winter and when the weather's crummy.
After 18 cannonballs and one wild game of Marco Polo, we toweled off and headed for lunch at one of our favorite kid-friendly-yet-not-obnoxious restaurants, Punch Pizza. Elise loves the pizza and so do we.
It was an enjoyable way to spend her birthday.

What can you say other than that the lady loves her Neopolitan pizza with a side of peas.

"Climb that tree..."

If Elise had a list of her all-time Top 5 books, "Go, Dog. Go!" would be assured a spot. So when Anni was trying to figure out what kind of cake to make Elise for her 2nd birthday last weekend, "Go, Dog. Go!" was an obvious theme for the cake. (It was not a "themed" party, however. I'm just fine with stopping at a themed cake.) So Anni used the final scene from the book as the basis for Elise's cake. Gotta admit: I don't know a thing about cake decorating, but that cake looked really good.

It was a good party; thanks to all the family and the Singels for showing up. I used to wonder why people held "parties" for kids so young, but now I get it. (If nothing else, we do it to see how many relatives we can fit in one room -- peaceably!) Elise had a good time, even if she was a bit overwhelmed. After all, the girl just wanted to eat grapes, and we kept pushing presents on her. (See an upcoming blog post about The Grandparent Gifts.)

Here are some photos from the birthday party:

Elise helped Anni make frosting for the cake. 

Kid + bag of sugar  = happy kid.

Watching the magic.

So here's the cake and the picture Anni tried to replicate -- and my left hand. Not a bad cake, huh? She found little toy dogs to put on the cake.

Gift opening. I don't have a camera lens wide enough to include all 17 people who were in our living room. Yes, 17. And there were empty chairs.

One of the gifts we gave Elise were a pair of rubber rain boots for her to use in the garden this summer. She loves hanging out in there, and this is cheaper than going through several pairs of shoes over the course of the summer. Plus, even I'll admit those are some cool boots for the little lady.

Some mornings, I wish I had pull-'em-up-straps like these on my shoes.

If there was a theme to the party, it might have involved gardening. We got Elise the boots, and her cousins Randy and Jacob gave her a children's gardening kit. (Rake, shovel, seeds and, as you can see, an umbrella.) She is set for the summer.

Candle concentration.

Cute, right? Well, what if I told you what Elise usually does is offer to share food -- only to yank it away and give you a devilish "heh, heh" in return? She's discovered playful teasing. This time, though, she was all about sharing with Anni.

We like this picture. I like it because it's as close as we'll get to having Elise hold the fork and give an expression reminiscent of the painting "American Gothic."

She's 2

I'll post more soon, but wanted to get something up here in the meantime.

Overheard...

Overheard at the house tonight:
"Please don't put your socks in the silverware drawer."

New customer at an old standby

Through downtown St. Paul, across the high bridge and up the hill sits one of our favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants, Capitol View Cafe. (The restaurant's name makes sense -- you can see the Minnesota Capitol from there. Well, you can see the Capitol if you stand in the middle of the street in front of the restaurant, but why ruin a good promotion with crummy details?)
Anyway, it's been nearly two years since we've been to Capitol View, and last weekend we decided to bring Elise there for an early Sunday morning breakfast. She dug it.

It's only fair I get this look while trying to take a picture as she eats. 

Waiting for that breakfast order? Here's some Play Doh, now go to town.

Jam sessions

Everybody has to have a hobby, right?
Elise has found a hobby: checking for toe jam. Usually it's her own feet she's interested in, but ask nicely and she may be willing to dig between your toes too. We're not sure where this started, but like most other odd behavior she probably picked it up in passing from ... me.
There is nothing in particular that triggers her, uhm, jam sessions. She'll just announce, "I check for toe jam," and then plop down on the floor, take off her sock and give those digits a look. In a testament to our ability to keep her clean, she rarely finds anything in those toe crevices.
Disappointed there were no discoveries, she undoubtedly remembers what to do next:
"I check the other foot."

Conjunction junction

"I don't."
Two words may never have had more of an effect on me. (OK, aside from "ice cream.")
That was one of the things Elise said tonight -- "I don't."
For a toddler who every day seems to be uttering new words and stringing together five-, six-, seven- or eight-word sentences with relative ease, "I don't" is an example of the less-is-more theory. It's a short phrase, but come on, you've got a conjunction there. That's impressive for a 23-month-old, even if she cannot actually say "conjunction" yet. At least it's impressive to me, because I know nothing about toddler language development beyond what I observe with Elise. Which means every time she comes up with a new word, phrase or sentence, I'm convinced she's flat-out brilliant.
Another anecdote: The other day we're talking about my parents' collie and his "nice hair." Elise looks at the dog, then looks up at me, puts her hands on her head and says, "Elise has nice hair, too."
Each day there's a new "oh, how sweet" phrase coming from her.
Of course, this language development means that if we -- well, I -- don't clean up the act around her, she soon could have just as salty a vocabulary as it is sweet...

A little news to share.

Showing off the announcement shirt.

It's been a long winter in Minnesota. In other news, we're excited to announce that Anni is pregnant with Child #2.
Are those two items related -- the long winter and the occurrence of a pregnancy? I'm not sure, but already more than one person has suggested a connection.
"So that's what you Minnesotans do in the winter," one relative told me.
Another character in the family offered this: "Well, you can't do much work outside in the winter so you work inside, eh?"
Anyway, about Anni. She's about 12 weeks along, which means we have six months left to enjoy a somewhat normal sleep routine. But who's really keeping track?
She is due in mid-August. That's a good month to be born, by the way, in August. It's a good month for a celebratory event.
We've already started trying to introduce Elise to the idea that there is a baby inside Anni. I'm not sure how that comes across to a 23-month-old, but she at least knows how to answer the question:
Us: "Elise, what's in Mom's tummy?"
E: "Baby."
Then, however, Elise tries to play "Giddyup, Pony!" on Anni's stomach, so I'm not sure she understands quite yet.
Oh, did I mention we're having a boy? Well, we don't know that yet, but that is the overwhelming consensus thus far, beginning with Anni and me. She told me she was pregnant. Apparently I had a stunned look on my face, but I'd argue that I was just thinking to myself.
"It's a boy," I predicted.
"I think so too," Anni replied, though she now is back to being undecided.
Like with Elise, we don't want to find out in advance. I'm not one for surprises, except for this one.

Splish, splash.

Sew what

Anni had a little help the other night as she sewed some new bibs for the babies at her school. Elise found sewing really interesting -- until she discovered that she could put the sewing machine cover on the floor and ride it like a horse. Why buy toys when plastic appliance covers bring the toddler joy?

Anni, Elise and Janome.

 

 Put to work, Elise's job was to hold the little spool on top.

It's never too early to learn two lessons. First, sewing pins are sharp. Second, and most importantly, pins do not get dropped because only Dad will find them -- in his feet.

Take a seat

Weekends are a good time to alter Elise's long-established routines. It was on weekends when we made her cry herself to sleep, scrapped the Nuk, went to one-a-day naps, started potty training and moved her from crib to twin bed.

Some of the changes aren't all that significant, but thankfully she usually seems willing to embrace whatever change we thrust upon her.

The latest change: This weekend she lost her spot at the dinner table.

Well, OK, she didn't lose a spot; she still gets to eat. We just got rid of the high chair. She's now sitting in a "big chair," as she calls it. She likes it and it doesn't seem to affect her robust eating habits, as if anything but illness could. 

We quickly discovered, though, that little hands coated in spaghetti sauce or applesauce are drawn to the chair cushion upholstery, so we will need to add some sort of dainty towel -- or industrial tarp? -- to the chair.

There is another benefit to this seating change. I finally get to reclaim my spot at the end of the table. I was bumped from my armchair and end spot when we brought on the high chair. Now, after months at the side of the table, all is right again. (Clearly, Elise got her willingness to embrace change from Anni, not me.)

Her snack of applesauce -- before it ends up on the chair cushion.

What settles for entertainment at our table: One of Elise's stuffed animals given water from a glass.

Elise, meet ralph.

We've reached another milestone in parenthood: the first dispatch of the middle-of-the-night vomit squad.
Elise was in a good mood and seemed in good health when she went to bed last night. Then, at 4:47 a.m. I was dispatched to Elise's room. Not by Elise, mind you, but by Anni, who once again was the only one to wake up to unusual sounds -- like, say, an upset child -- coming from across the hall.
Turns out Elise had tossed up her dinner and clearly was sluggish. So, there we were, pre-dawn, stripping barfed-on bed sheets, washing them and trying to console the vomiter. After that, I went back to bed and Anni -- bless her soul and apparent ability to not inhale -- rested next to the vomiter for a while until she fell asleep.
After further thought, I guess this is more of a milestone for Anni. If we were on a fire crew, she'd be the first responder and I'd be the back-up firefighter called in to collect wet hoses because I slept through the alarm.
Anyway, we kept Elise home from school today, which was a wise move. There was no more barfing, but she was awfully clunky. Yes, that's a medical term. She spent much of the day napping, including an impromptu snooze on the couch (see below).
Here's hoping we're not called for clean-up duty again tonight.

An assist from Santa

I've been trying to figure out which sports Elise may want to play when she gets a little older, because apparently I have no more-pressing matters to think about. I am not planning to pick a sport for her. It's more just a curiosity, not unlike wondering whether she will be right-handed or left-handed or whether she'll start thinking Dad is totally lame when she hits 10 or 11.

Anyway, I think her tour de sports is under way, thanks to a gift from Santa. Just as we were wrapping up Christmas this year, Anni said there was one more present, this one for Elise and me. We were given an indoor/outdoor basketball hoop. Turns out Santa knew that I like hoops and that Elise's doctor pegged her to be at least 5'9" as an adult.

So, this being the middle of winter, we're playing basketball in the living room -- or, as Elise calls it, "bouncy ball."

Even while constantly racking up turnovers for double-dribbling and traveling, Elise is already dunking and attempting short jumpers. She can catch a bounce pass, but doesn't yet understand that you don't get points for trying to eat the basketball. I guess we need to save one lesson for when the hoop goes outside this spring.

 

My little panhandler

Elise didn't want help putting her hat on one day. This was the result. I don't know what the Tupperware's all about.

Here's what I think of your offer

Elise tried to scare away a door-to-door saleswoman tonight by running toward the front door while swinging an empty trash can in one hand and holding a tambourine in the other.
That's right. Elise had a tambourine and a garbage can and Ms. Qwest had a clipboard and a bad offer. Guess who won?

Elise Navidad!

Sleepwalker

I am a sound sleeper and always have been. (I slept through a car crash outside my window, a bedroom visit from firefighters checking for CO and  didn't even notice when my parents once slid a three-pound bag of peanut M&Ms under my pillow -- really.)

With that sound sleeping came the occasional sleep-walking episode. I'd walk in my room, out in the hall, into my parents' room, and even down the stairs.

I've been reminded of those unusual sleep routines recently, now that Elise is sleeping in a twin bed and has discovered that she can actually get out of bed if she wants. There no longer are crib rails to confine her.

She has adjusted quite well to sleeping in a regular bed -- when she is sleeping. It can be a different story if she cannot fall asleep or wakes up in the middle of the night and is upset.

That is when she is prone to going walkabout. Sure, it's not actual sleep walking, but it might as well be. She is tired and confused.

The first episode happened a couple of months ago and, quite honestly, it freaked me out. I was not afraid for her safety -- we have a gate; she was fine -- but it gave me the willies when I looked up the dark stairway and saw two little eyes staring back at me.

It was creepier than it may seem, especially because she was silent, just staring.

She has since woken up from time to time and walked into the hallway, where we can hear her while we're downstairs. We usually just tell her it's time to sleep, so go back to bed, and she'll do it.

She tried something new the other night. Anni put her to bed, but Elise was wide awake. Anni was downstairs and could hear Elise singing at the top of her little lungs, just belting out tunes and jabbering to herself while in bed. 

Then, it was silent. A short time later Anni heard knocking on a window upstairs. How's that for creepy? But then Anni heard the familiar patter, patter, patter sound across the wood floors, and knew Elise went walkabout again. Sure enough, there she was, staring through the gate down the stairs. Anni, trying not to laugh at the shenanigans, told Elise it was time to go back to sleep.

With that, Elise dashed back to her bed and finally crashed.

Until the following morning. The sun came up but we were still sleeping. Then we heard that patter, patter, patter across the hallway and looked up to see somebody standing in our room, waiting to start the day.

And on that occasion, even I woke up.

Take a little trip...

The December weather in the Twin Cities just isn't miserable enough, so Anni and I spent a few days last week as far north in Minnesota as you can possibly go. We stayed at the Gunflint Lodge, an old cabin/resort spot on a lake that serves as part of the border -- demilitarized zone? -- between Minnesota and Canada.

And, yes, you could actually see Canada from our cabin's front door.

We used the trip as a mini-vacation, after realizing the last time we left Elise at home was nearly a year and a half ago. This trip was a blast. The weather turned out to be better up there than it was at home. It was a very relaxing few days, and I'd highly recommend the resort to anyone willing to make the -- gulp -- six-hour drive from the Twin Cities.

A few highlights:

Roadthrill: Since deer are domesticated in the Twin Cities, the sight of whitetails in "natural habitat" doesn't do much for us. A wolf, though? Now we're talking. We spotted a wolf lurking near the highway. Then we nearly had a new hood ornament when we rounded a curve at dusk only to find a female moose meandering across the road. (I slowed for a better look. That wasn't good enough, though: Anni proceeded to roll down her window. No, we didn't feed the moose.) We also flushed a couple of stunning bald eagles from whatever they were feasting on in roadside ditches.

Name game: You gotta love a geographical area that features a Castle Danger Road and a Cut Face Creek.

Thank you, Finns: Our cabin had a sauna. I had forgotten how nice it is to "take a sauna."

Deserted in December: The resort has at least two dozen cabins. We had one of only two cabins that were reserved the days we were there. (It helps to go mid-week in December, I guess.)

Friendly fire: Gas fireplaces may be convenient, but nothing beats a wood fireplace. We kept ours stoked the whole visit.

Life imitates art: Picture those paintings of serene winter scenes with snow-capped trees. Now picture yourself smack dab in the middle of the real thing. That's what you get for 40 miles along the Gunflint Trail.  

OK, enough gushing about the Gunflint. Here are some photos, posted here only because I have nowhere else to post them.

Narnia? Nah, just a hiking/snowshoeing trail.

This was what we saw outside our living room window -- because everybody leaves corn outside the cabins. I would have been more impressed if a moose showed up to graze.

 A typical view along the Gunflint Trail.

The aptly named Lonely Lake. 

It snowed a few inches one day -- and then we came home and it snowed 18 inches.

Pony

 Clydesdale

We tuned the TV to the fireplace channel.

There was a massive forest fire a few years ago in this area of northern Minnesota. So there are areas where entire stands of deciduous trees are now just charred toothpicks. (And, yes, I realize I just used the word "deciduous.")

Lake Superior is starting to freeze. That's Grand Marais in the background. It's a small town that in the winter slightly resembles Cicely from "Northern Exposure." No Fleischman sightings, though.