|I answer your accidental "Who me?" pose, child, with "YES, YOU! SCRUMPTIOUS YOOOOU!"|
- She still loves trains and Thomas (see picture, at top).
- She does an excited dance where her arms roll an invisible playdough sausage vertically in the air (back and forth between hands) while high-knee-running on the spot. I love it.
- She is crazy about milk, cheese, bananas, yoghurt, and carrots with dip.
- She is generous with her laugh while watching movies.
- Ivy often wakes first in the morning (we are usually all in one bed, by this stage). She lays there quietly for a while. Then she whispers, "Can I please go look at books now, Mama?" So sweet. She sits in a patch of sunlight and turns pages for half an hour. MAGIC AGE!
- When Ivy returns, post-peruse, she still asks if she can touch Mia. She is bursting with desire to hug and kiss her little sister. When the youngest does awake, Ivy sometimes wakes Haki to tell him so; "Papa, Papa! Mia's awake! You can touch her now!" As though he was hankering for the same...in his sleep.
- She continues to amaze me with her fine motor skills.
- She has become reliably generous and helpful. When asked if she would like to share a bite of this or fetch that, around a year ago, she would say "No thanks." No longer. She's a sharer and a fetcher. /round of fist pumps
- She is excellent at recognising all of her letters, but says she can't read yet (she leaves sounding out to Esky, even though I think she could probably start trying).
- Ivy often asks if she can go outside and sing. She then walks around in no obvious course or pattern singing. Yup.
- She also enjoys playing music. She is very serious about her piano playing, in particular. She tells me she isn't interested in learning to read music yet, but she plays consistently, with two hands, for about 10 minutes at a time, sounding careful chords and accompanying melody. I've never seen anything like it. It's something to behold. There's no mashing, but there's no recognisable song either. Once, when one of Ivy's friends was telling Ivy about how she plays the violin and is learning to play the piano, Ivy responded, "I play the piano!" Her friend said, "Ah...no you don't." Ivy declared, "But I practise every day!" and marched off. She feels what she is doing is very real and important. I like listening to it. When short a piano, she often "plays the piano" with gusto on a seat back, a cushion, a book, or her lap.
- For the past few months, Ivy has commenced wailing 1.5 hours after she goes to bed. She sits up, squirms, looks frightened, points around the room, and cries inconsolably. She is not awake. I have discovered that taking her to the bathroom appears to disrupt the night terror we have concluded she is having. I do believe a full bladder triggers the nightmare. It is like she is trapped in a cycle of feeling discomfort, then having this bad dream. Once she has relieved herself, the dream never reoccurs in a night. What I find most saddening, is how she describes these dreams the next day! When she is lucid (because she doesn't answer me or even seem to see me, during these episodes), I've asked her about her dreams. She says, "I dream about Stainstain. He is a wicked king." She has told me some of his wicked deeds, and assure you, she's on the money with his descriptor. It's fairly disturbing... What I find oddly fascinating, is that Stainstain has a theme song. She sits at the piano and plays long, strong bass chords and says, "This is Stainstain's song." Woah.
- Many of the other songs Ivy plays have invented, abstract titles. Two days ago she played me "The Nanopeg Song." I have explored many of her abstract words in attempt to establish if they are in fact Mondegreens or slurs, but nope, they're just Ivy neologisms.
- Ivy's names for characters and animals in pretend play are also usually abstract. She came to me earlier this week and asked me to help her with the zip on the back of her dress. I did. She then smoothed it from the waist down her thighs, spun to me and said, "I look like Masika in this dress." Me: "Who is Masika?" Ivy: "She's smaller than Nasina." Got it.
- I love when kids lock a definition in that isn't quite there, don't you? One of Ivy's this year: "A whale can't be a pet! It doesn't have fur." "Pet" apparently meant an animal companion with fur. We've gone over possible fur-free pets since, but it blew her mind. I think she still finds a fur-free choice unorthodox.
- She is still pretty stubborn about toilet use. I.e. Some days, she is still trialing her theory that toileting is unnecessary. Ever. Even as she squirms, cross-legged on the floor, she is determined not to go.
- Much of Ivy's parts add to create a very creative sum. I enjoy hearing and seeing the things she comes out with so much. I'm often surprised.
The one before that