Hang Time

Olivia and A.J. test their abilities to fight muscle fatigue and gravity in their battle for horizontal bar supremacy. (Olivia’s well practiced – see here and here.)

The King and I

Never before has our child been so transfixed by a lesson she’s learned in preschool. It’s been nine days since the kids learned about and celebrated Martin Luther King and his life’s work, and not a day has gone by in which Olivia’s failed to converse or inquire about him. The questions were relatively simple at first – Does he have children? Can I see more pictures of him? – but they have become increasingly challenging and uncomfortable as of late. Beni got these today: Can we visit him? How did he get a boo-boo? We hope to one day summon the ability (courage?) to thoughtfully explain the subjects of death, assassination, and racism to our daughter. That one day, though, would not be today.

To satiate Olivia’s King-sized appetite, we checked out a children’s book about him from the library (see above) and listened to part of a recording of a speech he’d given at my alma mater in 1966.

Cake Stakeout

Olivia lapped us once again in our race for the ages: She managed to get another front-row seat for a birthday cake ceremony, this one to mark G’s special day. (See here and here for previous cake stakeouts.)

Beba Las Vegas

Beni’s grandmother is the executive director of the organization that oversees the Miss Rhode Island pageant. After 34 years of dutiful service, she has decided to relinquish her crown. Her daughter and granddaughter joined her for her final Miss America in Las Vegas, where they spent most of their time trying to finish their frozen novelty drink.

Tyke Won’t Go

Following directions. Courtesy. Respect. These are magic (mythical?) words to the parents of young children. They were also mentioned in the course description for a taekwondo class offered through our local parks & rec department. We signed up our obstreperous one immediately.

We’re two weeks in and seeing some improvements, but our biggest challenge is getting Olivia to full participatory mode. She shies away from warm-ups, and we’re often the only parents who accompany a child for the exercises. The picture below encapsulates what we go through with her: Olivia steadfastly refusing to participate in the instructor’s lesson – this one on the techniques of a proper knife hand – while the other Tiny Tigers (and Mommy) continue to follow his directions out of courtesy and respect.

Being Burrito

That’s a wrap, folks: Olivia asked that I tightly wrap her baby blanket around her and call her a burrito.

Peace of Mind

In celebration of the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Olivia and her classmates learned of Dr. King’s legacy and articulated their own messages of kindness. As you can see, our daughter’s dream involves flowers and amiability.

She also told me that peace means “when everyone in the world is nice to each other.” Here’s to Olivia’s vision for a kind and peaceful future.

Dirty Politics

To the perceptiveness of three-year-olds: Olivia was peering over my shoulder as I was reading an on-line article about Hillary Clinton's primary victory in Nevada when she noticed the picture that accompanied that story and asked, "What's on that grandma's hand? Mud??"

Ill-Adviser

I’ve been home sick for the past three days with the respiratory flu, an illness I wouldn’t wish on my archenemies. (Now I know why people swear by flu shots.) I’ve spent most of my time alternating between the bed and the sofa, trying my darnedest not to infect my family.

Fortunately for me, Olivia is oblivious to the concept of contagiousness: her company and theatrics have certainly lifted my spirits. Yesterday, she donned her doctor gear to check up on me, and after diagnosing my woes, wrote me a prescription. If laughter is indeed the best medicine, then I’m on the fast track back to health.

Tee Time

Because nothing demonstrates love – although obnoxiousness and the squelching of individuality are also acceptable – quite like the practice of parents transforming their young children into human billboards.

Exercising Her Ingenious Impulses

Beni was working out to an exercise DVD at home this evening when Olivia decided to get in on the fun. The video’s instructor incorporates work with a weighted bar (similar to the one pictured above) into parts of the routine, but since we don’t own one (or two), the dynamic duo was forced to improvise. Beni grabbed some dumbbells; Olivia the towel rod from her kitchen set.

Finich Line

I'm strong to the finich 'cause I eats me spinach...

Maybe the blog’s URL should be Olivia’sPopeye, not oliviaspapa. (A-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah-gah!)

Homeland Security

It’s no reach to state that our daughter’s been reaching for our ears for nearly as long as she’s been alive. When she was younger, she’d rub so vigorously the ears of the person lying closest to her during naps or nighttime that blistered lobes became commonplace. We’ve never set out to wean Olivia of this practice completely (she obviously establishes and re-establishes a sense of security from it), but mercifully, the ear-rubbing sessions have been significantly shortened. Nowadays, she’ll ask to rub our ears for a minute max, or she’ll go in for the quick let-me-check-to-see-that-your-ear-is-still-on-the-side-of-your-head move (as pictured above).

Pom and Circumstance

The pomegranate’s delectably sweet and tangy seeds are a well-earned reward given all the work that’s required to extract the edible parts from beneath its leathery-bound skin and inside its multiple chambers. Several years ago, Beni introduced me to the world of pomegranates, and now, our deep-seated passion for this deep-seeded fruit is one of the cornerstones of our marriage.

And so it’s no surprise that our daughter shakes her pompoms at the sight of the glorious poms. She celebrates their existence by capturing them in both her mouth (mostly, but when they end up on the floor, we run a pom-and-mops operation) and artistic expression (see below).