A few little ditties about Maxine that I would like to preserve here…since a baby book has failed to materialize from thin air for her.

Her imagination is in full bloom.  And it is so lovely.

She has latched onto flying lately.  Sometimes with a cape.  Sometimes with her wings.  And sometimes on a plane.

Always in her “real sky” where we take giant bites of the cheese moon and eat the ice cream clouds before snuggling up in them for a cozy nap.

In all of her imaginary scenarios, we run into problems which honestly vex her…the safety of sleeping in a cloud without falling, messes that her imaginary seals make, you know, the usual.

Then there are the learning experiences…and parenting choices that I choose to make.

We were talking about what makes animals wild.  One of the examples that I provided was that wild animals hunt/gather their own food.  This lead to me apprehensively showing her a youtube video of lions hunting zebra.

I was apprehensive because I don’t want there to be a disconnect between my little carnivoires food and its source.  I want her to understand that meat doesn’t come from a store.  It comes from an animal.  To forget that or put that out of our minds seems irreverent to me.

At the same time as I want her to be grateful for the unwilling sacrifice animals make to those higher up on the food chain, I was a little afraid it would be too much for her to process.

I watched her watch the video of the lion hunting the zebra.

Not disturbed.  Fascinated.  Not in a bloodthirsty way.  Just in the way that a three year old processes new information.

When it was finished, she was quiet for a moment, and then asked, “Can we see one of zebras eating lions now?”  I told her why that wouldn’t work.

“Is there one of tigers eating lions?”

Another strike out.

“What videos of animals eating animals do you have on your ‘puter?”

So that put any worries, I had, of damaging her with too much information about the food chain to rest.

We were shopping for new bathing suits for the girls since they go through them so fast–they swim twice a week during the winter and about every day in the summer.

The woman that was checking us out: “And how old is your sister?”

Maxine: “Six.”

Woman:  “And how old are you?”

Maxine: “Three.  And how old are you?”

Woman: “Oh, I’m not telling you that.  I’m old.  You shouldn’t ask old people their ages.”

Aside from being incredibly funny how Maxine imitated the speech pattern, I was pissed!  Maxine was a little confused and looked a little hurt.  If it is rude to ask an “old person” her age, it is rude to ask a “young person” her age too.  I personally don’t see what the big deal about telling someone your age is.  If you’re “old”, be proud of it, own it, rock it!  As if there is any less value in being old than young.

Don’t be rude to my kid because of foolish vanity–especially when you opened the door to the question.

I wonder what that taught her.  She was clearly experimenting with a back and forth conversation with someone she didn’t know.  And she got shut down.  I probably am over thinking this one but it really sat the wrong way with me.

Parenting Maxine is so very different than parenting Evie.  In a lot of ways, there were less immediate worries with Evie.  I find myself worrying more about how conversations like the one with the lady in the store or over/under providing information will affect her in the long term.

I  know so very little about parenting.  Each day shines a light on how ignorant I am.  I have a feeling that by the time I feel partially sufficient at any aspect of parenting, we will be onto something new–leaving me bumbling through something new.