Eyes in the Back of my Head

I've gotten good at staying two steps ahead of Margot and anticipating her actions when she is out of my sight. I recognize that at some point in the past four years I crossed over to the other side. Once I was the person trying to get away with things; now I am piecing together the clues.

Tonight I put Margot to bed with instructions to go straight to sleep since she has a ballet recital tomorrow morning. (My wish for her to go straight to bed had less to do with the recital than for my desire to have some time to myself. Bedtime is often accompanied by plaintive requests for water, worries over stuffed animals who haven't been seen in a year, and other delays.)

About five minutes after I came downstairs, I heard: "THUD thud thud THUD THUD."

What could that pounding be?

Immediately it dawned on me.

"Put your shoes back in the closet and get in bed!" I shouted up the stairs. There was no reply from her room, but silence followed.

Aha! That one was easy. See, I bought Margot new shoes over the weekend that light up. The thuds were definitely Margot pounding her new shoes on the floor to watch the lights go on.

I secretly hope Margot fell asleep wondering, "How did she KNOW that?"

Tourists in Our Own Town

Min and I spent Saturday afternoon embracing the Smithsonians. First we went to the Museum of Natural History to check out the dinosaur bones:



Then we wandered through the Sculpture Garden, and Margot burned off the Valentine's Day candy she consumed earlier in the day:



We also spent a little time watching the ice skaters on the rink at the Sculpture Garden:


The best part about having a four-year-old is that she prompts us to do these sorts of things. When we lived on Capitol Hill, I can count the number of times we went down to the Smithsonians (and we were within walking distance!). Taking Min to the museums is so much fun that we make it a point to go once a month or so. Next up: the Sackler Gallery right around Cherry Blossom time!

Shout Out to Uncle Tim

Each day Margot chooses a different stuffed animal from her menagerie to accompany her to preschool. Yesterday she brought her Curious George puppet.

On the ride home from school, Margot asked me "Did Uncle Tim give me this Curious George?"

I paused and thought about it. My brother Tim did, in fact, give her that puppet. It was a Christmas present more than two years ago, during her obsessive "Monkey George" phase.

"Yes, he did give you that monkey. Do you remember that?" I asked her.

"Well, no," she said. "But he put his name on it."

"What?" I asked. "Where?"

"Right here," she said. "T-M. Tim. Tuh-mmm," she sounded the letters out. "T M spells Tim."

And there, beneath the script on George's shirt that spells Curious George, were the letters TM (for 'trademark').

Valentine's Day Drama

As I've noted before, the bulletin board outside of Margot's classroom reflects an ever-changing poll of her and her classmates' opinions. In the past, Miss Stephanie and Miss Brooke have polled the kids on their presidential candidate preferences, what they hoped to receive for the holidays (this is how I was clued-in to the fact that Margot wished for a mermaid doll from Santa), and what kinds of vegetables the kids like to eat.

Today the bulletin board asked, "Who is your Valentine?" I scanned the board and looked for Margot's response. "My mom," it read. Good. There were a lot of moms noted, a couple of dads, and one response said, "My grandma. She's old."

Two responses caught my eye, though. In response to "Who is your Valentine?," a boy named Spencer in her class responded "Margot." And then I saw it again: "Margot" written on Sean's response heart.

Oh, brother.