Belly Again
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Making Little Red Riding Hood
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| Mom, Red Riding Hood, The Big Bad Wolf, The Woodsman, and Grannie |
Okay, so you know the thing in the middle doesn’t look terribly wolfish, and I know it doesn’t look terribly wolfish, but my three year old thinks it’s The Wolf. You know, the actual archetype that appears in so many of his favorite stories. (Actually, I’m pretty impressed that it came out even looking remotely canine, since at one point it most resembled a wingless, gray duck.)
What’s going on here is that I’m assembling a “table play” set to use in a preschool lesson. I’m planning to use a small box to make Granny’s bed and then I’ll be done. Ian loves these wooden little people and we’ve also done the Three Little Pigs this way. You can buy these wooden peg people very inexpensively here and customize them to whatever story you want using paint or (as in this case) props and clothes. I’ve also seen it suggested that you create a set as party favors for children’s parties, which is an idea I LOVE and may have to use.
This is a very quick, approachable project. I created the forest backdrop as a mini-felt board using sticky-backed craft felt, a USPS shipping box, an exacto knife, a ballpoint pen, and a pair of scissors from the dollar store. The dolls’ clothes are felt scraps and yarn. I opted to sew them so that when the kids rip them off the dolls they aren’t ruined, but you could just as easily glue them on if your child is more enchanted by dolls than by seeing how they are put together. I plan to create a crochet pattern for what I did with the wolf, but you could also put grey felt ears and snout on one of the peg people. The less realistic the figures, the more details the kids fill in with imagination, so “perfect” is “finished so we can play with them,” not “incredibly detailed and realistic.”
She Sells Sea Shells…
We made a point to go hunt for sea shells. Mister likes them very much. He’d pick them up, talk to them, tap them with his shovel, and conduct various other experiments, but he was absolutely ADAMANT that we not take any home with us. “No, Mommy, we have to leave them here for other people!”
Strike Them From the List
Since we have now seen a scrotum on the ultrasound and therefore know we must buckle down and pick a name appropriate for one of the male sex (yes, sadly, we’ve admitted that “Catherine,” however lovely, is not appropriate at this juncture), we decided to consult the baby’s family tree in search of famous rogues, notorious personages, and baby name ideas. What we mainly found was the fascinating history of ordinary people- and a few names we WON’T be using. A sample follows, for your amusement and inspiration. I promise you, I am not making ANY of these up- each and every one is the given name of one of this child’s male ancestors. There were also a great many solid Johns, Roberts, Williams, and Thomases to be found- plus at least one Dick and one Harry. So there you have it.
Otto
Elijah
Ottilie
Erwin
Adolphus
Ebenezer
Orion
Phineas
Asa
Moses
Hiram
Adelbert
Eliakim
Orin
Azor
Sylvanus
Ransom
Jebediah
Selar
Theophil
Levi
Erastus
Orrin
Joe Bob
Sven
Parmenas
Jeptha
Enos
Marmaduke
Appleton (surname: Beckwith. I mention this because A) This was one of my favorite names on the family tree and B) it appears more than once. Which means someone spent his entire life introducing himself as “Appleton Beckwith” and still named someone after himself.)
Albertus
Adaeu
Phineas
Hercules
PS: Thanks are owed to the tireless geneaology research done by my dad, and to the bottomless archive of my Grandma’s memory. A great deal of what we know about our family history is due to things she remembered, and Dad tracked down in the historical record.
It’s a Boy!
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| The toes of both little feet. |
The doctor and the ultrasound technician both said we were measuring a little ahead of due date. My belly is measuring a week ahead (I blame the fudge.) and the baby is measuring five days ahead. I’ve gained a total of nine pounds so far. Everything else looks perfectly normal, and this son is as much an exhibitionist as his brother was- there can be no question that we’ve got the wrong information. Kid’s a boy and doesn’t care who knows it!
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| I’m A Boy |
Study Shuffle
Much as I love natural containers like baskets and wood boxes, and use them at every opportunity, there are times when there is just no denying that breaking down and resorting to some plastic storage containers is just plain tidy and convenient.
I had been using wooden boxes to organize the art supply area, and although I prefer the old containers, they did not organize the supplies nearly so handily. And I can’t say I’m sorry to trade in the teetering pile of puzzles for two tidy drawers full!
Can I just mention here that what was really chapping my behind is the fact that a lot of the puzzles and multi-piece toys came in boxes FIVE TIMES BIGGER than the item within? Melissa and Doug seemed to be among the best at creating packaging that actually reflects the size of the toy inside. I used some plastic storage containers from the dollar store to replace the originals- they’re still sturdy, you can see what’s inside, and I could fit them into the bigger drawers or, as you see here, stack them neatly. I thought of plastic zipper bags, but stray plastic bags just look like trash to me and I’d rather not deal with that.
Now when Ian wants to play with one of these toys, I don’t have to dig through whatever cabinet is big enough to hold their crazy boxes, he can point to which one he wants and I can get it down for him. Then, when he’s done, we pack that one back up and he asks for a different one.
As always, a natural consequence of rearranging the toys is that Ian is playing with things he hasn’t even looked at in ages. Everyone wins.
| Study Shuffle |
Goodbye, big doggie
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| Ori, Remus, and Sunny on the couch, circa 2004 (?) |
The world is short about 100 pounds of pure love today. Rest in peace, Orion. Go chase Foofy.
(For those of you who are scratching your heads and thinking, “But Meghan doesn’t HAVE a dog…” Ori lived in Arizona with my first husband and my other erstwhile dog, Bailey.)
Whoops
The best part was that he had propped up both feet, but one kept falling off and he’d put it back up without even waking. Guess the pre-Christmas excitement took a toll!
Reindeer Games
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| “Now Daddy needs some, too!” |
Do you think he remembers?
Christmas Fudge
We may or may not be enjoying Christmas Fudge this year. I love fudge. (I know, who doesn’t?) Normally, my mother makes it, and when I do it it’s just a bonus. This year, she didn’t happen to make any. (Not a problem- we will manage to achieve obesity by New Year’s regardless.) But, since we like it, I thought I’d make some. Seeing as how I’m done with almost all the other holiday tasks, and all.
Let me begin by explaining that I have gotten a different set of pots and pans since the last time I made fudge. They are, in fact, a NICER set. But different, nonetheless. So when I picked out the pot I thought would work and diligently hooked up the candy thermometer, it came as something of a surprise that as the level on the thermometer rose, so did the contents of the pot. Apparently I either forgot all about this phenomenon, or it wasn’t nearly as noticeable in my wider, shallower pot last year.
So the candy continued to swell until I had twenty more degrees to go before the candy mixture and the chocolate were supposed to meet, but about one more degree before the pot boiled over. Have you ever tried to “stir constantly” while transferring a boiling hot, sticky substance from one pot to another? Well, it wasn’t pretty, but everyone came through okay except, possibly, the fudge.
Time will tell, and, you know- the proof is in the pudding. Or, the fudge, as the case happens to be. I have a feeling we will choke it down somehow.
As a sidebar, the Little Dude observed part of this process (thankfully, not the incredibly ridiculous and possibly dangerous pot transfer) and immediately pointed out that Auntie Tarra needed to help us eat the fudge. To which I replied in two parts. One: Auntie Tarra, this little person has got your number. And Two: as soon as she gets here, we will share our fudge. Which may or may not be any good.
PS: The fudge is fine. One billion calories per square inch, and all.