for set-up parents of knock-down kids

Some might argue that all toddlers are "knock-down" kids, but I know for a fact that this isn't true. Some of George's friends are, as I was, setter-uppers: delight-takers in all things organizational, gods of tiny, curated kingdoms where giraffes and camels and crocodiles are placed just so, inside the fence borrowed from the Breyer stable, where Playmobil families stand calmly by with their arms at their sides. The unsuspecting kid sets everything up, then looks benevolently at their creation with satisfaction. Until, that is, George comes along (delight-taker in all things crash-boom-smash), and obliterates the unlikely plastic animal peace brokered by his now-pissed little friend. 

It's hard to watch, and hard to participate in this kind of play when you're a setter-upper by nature. No amount of oohing and aahing over another child's train table masterpiece matters to a knock-down child such as mine. He won't take a hint. He simply loves to see things fall, hear them hit the ground, and detail to you what just happened with plenty of sound effects. 

It's taken me awhile -- and I'm still working at it -- but after some reframing, I'm beginning to enjoy this aspect of my son's personality. Though it's easy to see it as such, this way to play is not entirely destructive; he's actually really interested in the mechanics of falling, of crashing and coming apart. That's something I appreciate and an interest I want to enable in constructive, educational and fun ways. To that end, I've been trying to come up with some activities that we can do together, that are cool to him but aren't grating for me, as it is still pathetically painful to watch him tear up the perfect track I'd just laid to optimally make use of the entire surface area of his train table, when he asks me to "play trains."

The following are just a few ideas, and most are probably obvious to less uptight parents or caregivers, but I don't figure I'm the only one out there at a loss for how to have more boisterous fun. 

1. Dominoes. We set them up in different configurations -- letters, shapes, snakes, spirals -- and then George knocks them down. He's learning several lessons during set up (spatial stuff like how far apart the dominoes can go before they break the chain reaction; letter/shape identification; delayed gratification, etc.) with the added bonus of a big payoff at the end. Often he can't wait and "accidentally" knocks over the unfinished set-up, but he's beginning to gain some patience around that.

2. Jenga (or, around here, "Jenga" since we don't actually own the game). The same idea can easily be accomplished with some regular blocks of different shapes. I quickly build a tower of layered blocks and we remove one by one from the middle. Again, he generally knocks the whole thing down "accidentally" but not before having a few turns of genuinely trying to choose wisely.

3. Natural disaster. Admittedly either poorly or excellently timed, this game is exceedingly popular, since it's basically what George was doing already. For whatever reason, I find the destruction more palatable when I think he's learning something, so when he asks me to accompany him in some duplo play, we build up a city (his favorite thing to build) using every last one of the blocks. Then, Oh no! hurricane/earthquake/tsunami George strikes, devastating the place. Who will help these people rebuild their homes? As we rebuild, we talk about what makes the natural disaster of choice happen, and ways we can actually help people in these crises. He usually humors me and seems to be retaining some of the information.

4. Watching Mythbusters. I know, I know. But! Several seasons of Mythbusters are available on Netflix streaming and Amazon Prime, and while we are very choosy with the episodes we watch (no guns, no violence, nothing too bloody or gross), I will totally and shamelessly confess that George has gotten a lot of inspiration from Adam and "Janie." The show covers simple physics in ways that speak to kids, and incorporates plenty of harmless crashy/splashy fun by way of non-"accident" car myths, waterslides, and George's personal favorite: an episode wherein a batting machine knocks the hide off a baseball. He is forever making his own contraptions that will drop pretend toast to see if it lands butter-side-up, or measure how high his "humid" baseball bounces, as he's seen on the show. It's refreshing to see some of his more destructive urges routed into scientific play. 

5. Splashy bath. When all else fails, I throw George in the tub and let him splash away. He has a stash of different sized cups in addition to his bath toys, and the inclination to crash around seems to be satisfied in short order when there's water involved and he's allowed (almost) completely free play. My only rules are no purposely pouring water out of the tub and no standing. I don't participate much, but do watch him and give an occasional thumbs up or validation when he asks if I saw the huge splash. 

Of course, free play outside is always preferable, but with a bad weather-averse kid, we don't get out as much in the rainy months as we do when it's clearer. These five things have been working for us lately, and I hope to stumble on some more to add to our repetoire. Do you have any knock-down games that both you and your child enjoy?

a child's garden of...dirt

On Facebook the other day, Dee posted a link to an article about a play garden. George likes to mess around in our fallow raised bed, though between him and the chickens this has proven a bad pastime for the growing season. Our family plot will be locked down with chicken wire this year, high enough to keep a curious toddler and his three clucking cohorts at bay until their "assistance" is needed, but I wanted George to have a place to grow things of his own, to dig and hunt for worms and shovel away to his heart's content. I also wanted it to have some sensory components aside from the squishy mud, and The Imagination Tree's post about their sweet little garden gave me some inspiration. 

Ordinarily, I am not one to recommend shopping at the dollar store, as I usually find thrift shops more fruitful and less, well, crappy, but when you've got about 20 solid, no-cry-guarantee minutes to get supplies for both a garden and dinner, you do whatcha gotta do. At the dollar store, I found:

• a pinwheel
• a muffin tin for mudcake making
• a mat to kneel on
• a bamboo windchime

And at Home Depot, which shares the parking lot with the dollar store -- another place I would not ordinarily discuss patronizing, as there is a lovely local hardware shop and there are myriad pleasant little nurseries around -- I got:

• a mint plant 
• a lavender plant
• two colors of posies
• cedar edging

At home, we already had a little trowel, a shovel and some terra cotta pots. I found some rocks and stones in the yard and piled them in one corner of the garden.

I used some of the soil from our raised bed, as it needs to be supplemented anyway, and made a large-ish dirt pile in the hopes that George might not dig up the plants. The rocks and stones, I imagine, will gather some critters underneath (looking for and identifying bugs is currently a hot hobby around here), and a blackberry branch that needs to be pruned back is holding up the wind chime whose cheapness is, honestly, rather obvious. The dull clinking adds something nice to the space, though; I'm glad I thought to buy it. Already, the scents of the lavender and mint waft around when you walk by...especially when a certain hapless gardener is accidentally crushing the plants with his galoshes. 

An hour of this morning was spent playing in the new garden, a good portion of which "makin' dinosaur fossils!" with his little raptor. Sometimes I am confounded over the fact that two years ago, my full-sentence-speaking, archaeology-interested child was this small and drooly:

His sister enjoyed the view from her little coccoon, and maybe she'll be big enough to dig around a little, herself, by the time summer's really here. Because summer doesn't really get here until August, anyway.

Happy spring!

hideout

Our house is small. It's cute, and I like it, and I don't even keep the space I have tidy, so I can't justifiably wish for more. But having a toddling baby doesn't always jibe with also having such a tiny home. We have a lot of stuff, some of which is valuable -- both sentimentally and otherwise -- and while I respect the methods of child rearing that dictate we must create an entirely child-friendly space, it's just not realistic for my family. Plus, I want my records out and accessible. I want George to grow up with a respect for the delicacy of certain things, looking forward to the special occasions when he is allowed to handle our treasures. After all, there are lots of no-touches in the world, for kids and adults alike. 

This is not to say that our house is one big barrister bookcase of Hummel figurines. Nevertheless, I still feel bad sometimes that George has such a limited play area. That, unless a door is shut, he can never escape my eyeshot. He needed a hideout: a cozy little retreat all his own for looking at books, for talking to his cow and baby about what a jerk mama is when she won't let him pick at the electrical outlet covers. I'd been looking at teepee instructions and tutorials online and in pattern books for awhile before I finally decided to just wing it. (This is by no means a tutorial, but if you're similarly inclined to fly by the seat of your pants, maybe this will give you an idea or two.)

I used:

• four 4-foot-long dowels
• some white twill that I already had
• some ikea fabric that I'd been saving for something special
• some hot pink suede cord leftover from moccasin making
• a scrap of yellow broadcloth.

I made pretty haphazard triangles that measured three feet on the bottom edge, just folded them in half and used a yard stick to cut a relatively straight diagonal line that would create a triangle when the fabric opened back up. The triangles are 3 and a half feet tall. 

For the dowel casings, I cut 3 inch wide strips the same length as the triangles' diagonal edge. As I sewed the triangles together at the long sides, I folded the casings in half (wrong sides together) and sandwiched them between the teepee side pieces. To make an opening, I cut the front piece in half lengthwise, then sewed partway down. I made some bias tape and bound the unfinished edges of the flap. For a little extra stability, I reinforced the top of the flap with a triangle of scrap fabric. I didn't want to get out the iron, so the triangle is uneven, but oh well. 

I looped a piece of suede cord around the tops of the dowels, and tied them up tight. I made the whole thing after George went to bed last night (in about 2.5 hours), so it was set up for him this morning. 

He was freaking STOKED. As soon as the next Joann circular comes in the mail, I'll get some shredded foam to make a big matching pillowy cushion to lounge on. 

For now, though, he's perfectly content crawling in, sitting for awhile, then crawling back out to check on Rody.