Hide and seek

Lincoln was very proud of himself when he found Greta hiding. She was chilling with her Yogos Bits patiently waiting for us after hearing "Ready or not, here we come!" I really enjoy watching their interaction as they grow into playmates and friends. They really seem to like each other. Of course, later that day, he sunk his ten teeth into her, so perhaps they're not the best of friends just yet.

Babyhood is slip sliding away

Another sign that Lincoln isn't a baby anymore: he insists on sliding solo at the playground! He and Greta had fun racing down the twin slides at dinosaur park. She would "win" and then jump off to catch him. Then she shared a slide with him, which delighted Lincoln immensely. Lots of fun for everyone!

Boo!

That's a double entendre, for sure. After weeks of hype, Halloween for yours truly started with a whimper. I caught the 313 out of the city on Friday and met Carey and the kids at the train station after their early celebration at the zoo. Greta was fast asleep and Lincoln was just waking from his nap. The jam-packed holiday schedule called for us to meet at Turtle Park for some games and music before a parade down Main Street and trick-or-treating at local businesses. Greta slept through almost the whole thing and when she woke up she was in a sour mood. Didn't brighten until about 15 minutes before we left the South Orange Performing Arts Center.

BUT... this story does get better. We got home around 530 and knocked on half-a-dozen neighborhood doors. Greta was charming and her unicorn costume was a big hit. She was obsessed with holding on to the reins. I held the plastic jack-o-lantern until she was ready to ask for candy. Then I'd take the jack-o-lantern back and she'd grab the reins, look at me, and ask, "like this?"

Carey edited together the best photos from the day, but couldn't narrow it down beyond, ahem, 78 of her favorites. She asks me to end this post with a trite, enjoy the show!

Happy Halloween!

Too tired to blog, but here are some pics of the kids enjoying the holiday. Hope yours was happy, too!

Quick week recap

Greta has completely enjoyed her pre-Halloween festivities this week. Monday was the Big Jeff Halloween party at the library. Remember how cute she and Lincoln were last year? Look how much they have grown!
Tuesday we made yummy Halloween sugar cookies with buddy Duncan. Sorry I don't have any pics of that...corralling two kids as they took turns adding and mixing ingredients was too challenging for this tired mom!

Today was the preschool party and parade. Apparently Greta's favorite moment was eating a bagel off of a string, as she kept telling me over and over between pick-up and bedtime how much fun that was. I think she enjoyed the parade, but not as much as we parents did.

She is very excited to trick or treat tomorrow. Not sure what the trick will be, but the treat is Daddy coming home from work early to join us in our festivities!

Kitchen helpers

Our camera's on its last legs, so forgive the shoddy photos. After two years and more than 15,000 photos, Carey may have delivered its deathblow when she recently dropped it on the sidewalk. Linc has enjoyed the contents of the kitchen cupboards and all the metallic joys inside for months. Carey finally captured him and Greta serenading her the other day while she prepared dinner.

You've got the cutest little bagel face!

Games Daddies play

Mommies, too, but mostly Daddies. All involve some form of Daddy lying in a prone position while the children (usually just Greta) scurry about trying to accomplish something. The preferred place of play is the living room couch on Sunday afternoon with a competitive NFL game to watch. It started with Nest about a year ago and has grown into several variations, all with names that would make Hemingway proud: Mommy and Baby, Daddy Kitty and Baby Kitty, Sick Daddy, Daddy Mountain, Daddy Island.


The former is the fave du jour, with Greta playing Mommy and Daddy playing Baby. I am told to "go to bed, baby, because Mommy (Greta) has to take care of big sister." Greta leaves the room, then calls out, "OK, you can call for me now!" So I say: "Mommy, I can't sleep!" or "Mommy, I have to go potty!" or anything, really, that requires Greta to come running. When she shows up, it's like a plot from one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books my cousins and I were so fond of growing up. I might say: "Mommy, I feel sick," or "Mommy, I'm thirsty." Greta then responds with the remedy. She'll pretend to take my temperature, for example, or offer me a fake glass of water. But she's a no-nonsense Mommy, who has obviously been listening to her role model. Last night I told her that "I just couldn't sleep." Her reply? "You have to, baby. It's night-night time and I am NOT getting out of bed again!"

Party time

Greta's preschool buddy, Trey, celebrated his fourth birthday today. He warmly greeted her at the door with "GRETA! Greta Greta Greta! It's my birthday, Greta! Come on, come on, come on!" With such an exciting welcome, she quickly kicked off her shoes and headed into the playroom with the other 19 (!) children attending the party. Fortunately it was a beautiful Sunday, which meant the party included outdoor pumpkin decorating, face painting, a moon bounce, and a really fun airplane playset. With so much to do, including eating pizza and cake, the afternoon flew by. When I asked her what she enjoyed the most, she said, "Oh, mom, EVERYTHING!" For me, the best part was having a daughter who displayed excellent manners, took turns without whining or crying, and shared toys happily. Oh, and the hot apple cider. Perhaps I should have listed that first?!

Biting the Big Apple

We took advantage of another perk of my job today, trekking to the Nintendo World store at Rockefeller Center in New York. The Japanese entertainment giant released three new games for the Wii and DS -- Dora Saves the Snow Princess, Diego's Great Dinosaur Rescue and Wonder Pets Save the Animals. The publicist in charge of the event sent me an e-vite, so I gladly accepted and invited my friend John, a former msnbc.com colleague with a daughter Greta's age. [Check out the Asterita family blog for more photos.] The event was pretty cool -- Dora & Diego in costume, the real-life voices behind Dora, Boots and Backpack, a face painter, a sketch artist, raffles every 20 minutes and 30 flat screens all playing the Wii games. Greta wouldn't pose with the costumed characters, but she loved getting a unicorn painted on her face and oddly appreciated the swag bag Daddy got with the DS and Wii versions of the games. Now... anybody have a DS or a Wii so we can play them???

Cinema verite

I can't really blame her, but this video makes it clear that Carey pretty much lets the kids do whatever they want while she makes dinner (listen for the beep beep beep of the microwave). And apparently what they want is to eat cheese, climb on the furniture and abuse the cat.

Just a cute photo

The kids at play today -- note the very boyish Lincoln.

Proud pumpkin

Last weekend, Greta and I carved one of the big pumpkins we picked at The Hollow. Armed with a pink Disney princess carving kit, Greta eschewed the princess templates and insisted we make "a nice smiley face." Rob supervised our endeavor, sorted the seeds for roasting, and kept Lincoln entertained. Both kids really liked the end result, especially when we added a candle and set it on the front porch. When we told Greta it wouldn't last until Halloween, she said that was fine; we'll just have to carve another. Any predictions as to what our next pumpkin might be?

How do ya like them apples?

Greta and I often spend QT in the kitchen during Lincoln's naps. We recently enjoyed making apple crisp with some of those oh-so-fun-to-pick-apples we got over Columbus weekend. Watch out Ina, there's a new barefoot contessa in town!

Bye-bye, baby

That's what Carey kept saying yesterday as Lincoln got his first haircut. "He won't look like my baby anymore! He'll look like a little boy!" I dunno.... looks a lot like his Dad, I think. Here's a before and after shot. He was exceedingly well-behaved, only fussing for the last minute or two.

Helping parent II

I had the rare pleasure of not working Thursday. Carey stayed home with the still feverish (he's better as of this writing) Lincoln so I could escort Greta to Morrow Memorial Preschool. As Carey previously posted, Morrow is a co-opt that keeps its costs down in part by enlisting parents to do everything from spend one day per month in the classroom to buying paper towels and snacks for the kids. On that one day per month you're called the "Helping Parent" and your child is the "Helping Friend." And that's where this story begins.

12:18 p.m. ... enter stage left, Dad wearing shorts, blue golf shirt, baby blue Crocs with white socks. Daughter in a pair of floral flowing pants and a pink T with a green tree emblem that says "Nature Lover."

Dad: We're here!

[Silence]

Greta: Where is everybody? Mrs. Hicks? Where are you?

Dad turns on the lights, examines room where he'll spend the next 3 hours. It looks like a child's version of heaven, albeit a little dated. Little alcoves filled with cubbyholes marked with plastic containers labeled in masking tape: Wooden cars and trucks, Dress-Up Clothes, Little People, Coloring Supplies, Play-Doh. Dad recognizes a Matchbox car garage he had in his toy box 30+ years ago.

Dad [unnaturally excited]: Greta, I had this toy when I was a little bit older than you!

Greta: Where's Mrs. Hicks?

12:30 p.m. ... Mrs. Hicks saunters downstairs, wearing typical Mom-wear: old jeans, a cotton shirt, both with evidence of stains. A noise begins to build at the end of the hall, where parents and kids are waiting for the signal that it's OK to enter the classrooms.

Mrs. Hicks: Robert?

Dad: If you're not Cynthia, I'll go with Mr. Merrill.

Mrs. Hicks proceeds to tell Dad the 25 things he's responsible for during the next 3 hours -- from cleaning the tables -- twice -- with dish soap then a water/bleach solution -- to guarding the "Go" bag filled with emergency contact numbers during the 30-minute playground session to dispensing the banana/yogurt/cinnamon graham cracker snack he bought that morning at the grocery store.

Dad: What do you do?

Mrs. Hicks: Discipline.

12:32 p.m. ... Mrs. Hicks steps into the hallway, peers around the corner...

Mrs. Hicks: Mrs. Hicks' class, come on down!

10 children set off running down a ratty carpet from the church's front door to the classroom, somehow stripping off their coats as they run. Dad retreats to the side of the room, hiding behind Greta.

Mrs. Hicks: Marshall, is that where your coat goes?

Marshall [looking at my shoes]: My Daddy says men don't wear Crocs.

Dad: Tell your Daddy I'd like to have a chat with him.

12:30-1:30 p.m. ... free play commences. Most kids flit from station to station, seemingly at random. Some find one thing -- Trey at the sand table -- and stay put for what feels like a long time but is probably 15 minutes. Dad introduces myself, slowly, and makes small talk with 3-year-olds.

Dad: Is that a worm?

Sabina: No.

Dad: It looks like a fat worm.

Sabina: It's not.

Dad: What is it?

Greta: Daaaaad, come on!
[grabs Dad's hand, drags him over to where Mrs. Hicks is fitting some kids with smocks for painting]

Mrs. Hicks: Just make sure they have enough paint and try to keep it off their clothes.

15 minutes pass. Dad assists two painters, washes their hands, sets their artwork in the hallway on newspapers to dry. Charlotte stops by and wants to paint. Dad pulls the smock over her head, clips a new piece of paper to the easel then follows Duncan to the wooden cars and trucks. Dad's knees ache, so he tries to sit on a kids' chair. Dad's knees hurt much worse. Dads walks back over to Charlotte, who has dispensed with her paint brush and dipped both hands into the blue paint tray up to her elbows.

Dad: Ummm, maybe you should use a paintbrush, honey?

Mrs. Hicks: Charlotte! Go clean up. We paint with brushes.

1:30-1:45p.m. ... Clean-Up. Mrs. Hicks cranks Lauri Berkner on the Sony boombox and tells everyone to clean up for story time. Marshall runs into the corner and tries to hide behind a box of dress-up clothes and a mirror. The rest of the kids dutifully put things in plastic containers. But only when instructed.

1:45-2:00 p.m. ... Story time. Mrs. Hicks loudly reads half a dozen books, none of which Dad remembers specifically, except that they were the books he read to Greta about two years ago. Dad begins cleaning up the table for the post-playground snack. Scrub the entire surface with one of those handle sponges filled with dish soap, dry with industrial paper towels, then spray with bleach/water solution and dry with Bounty.

Mrs. Hicks: Greta, it's time to ring the bell! [a "Helping Friend" task]

Greta practically sprints to the front door and grabs the wooden bell from Mrs. Hicks.

[ring-a-ding-a-ding-a-ding-a-ding!]

Ten children embrace their inner Pavlov and line up behind Greta facing the door.

Greta: Daaaad!

Dad [still trying to scrub the bleach smell out of his hands]: Just a sec!

Dad dries hands, lines up directly behind Greta like a soldier.

Dad: Everybody ready?

Mrs. Hicks [to Dad]: You forgot the Go bag.

2-2:30 p.m. ... Playground. Jungle gym, balls, two plastic Flintstone-like cars kids propel with their feet. Dad assumes spot next to Mrs. Hicks on the picnic table.

Greta [standing on top of jungle gym looking down at a pole with a corkscrew around it]: Daddy, help?

Dad: You can do this? By yourself?

Greta: I need some help. New trick.

Dad lifts Greta up, but has no idea where to put her legs. Charlotte joins her at the top of the pole.

Charlotte: I show you. [proceeds to jump on pole and slide down, dizzyingly fast]

Greta: My turn!

Dad: Put one leg here and the other... here. No, here.

Greta: Dad, that's not right! Like this... [slides down very slowly, moving lower hand-over-hand. Jumps once her toes feel the ground.]

Dad: Good job! New trick!

2:30-2:45 p.m. ... Snack. Dad opens cooler packed by Mom. 12 bananas, 16 oz. of Stonyfield vanilla yogurt, box of cinnamon graham crackers.

Mrs. Hicks: Use your manners to tell him what you want.

Marshall: Crackers!

Madison: Yogurt! Yogurt! Yogurt!

Will: Banana, please.

Mrs. Hicks: Thank you, Will.

Dad gives Will half a banana.

2:45-3:00 p.m. ... Music time. Dad begins clearing the table in preparation for its second thorough cleaning of the day. Mrs. Hicks cranks "We Are the Dinosaurs" on the Sony. Each child is given blue plastic clappers about the size of their hands. They begin marching around the table, circling Dad as he scrubs like Lady MacBeth. The song plays through, then repeats.

Mrs. Hicks: March with us, Dad! You can clean after!

The music is deafening. It repeats a third time, prompting squeals of delight from the children. Dad notices the curtains on the door pull back as parents try to sneak a glimpse of their children at play.

Greta: "We are the dino-saur-aur-aur-aurs!!! ROOOOOAAAAAAR!"

The music stops and parents enter, bear hugging their kids. Each files out the door, chattering with Mom and Dad about what they did at school. Dad picks up Greta, twirls her around, loudly smacks a kiss on her cheek.

Dad: Thank you, Biggest, for helping me be the Helping Parent.

Fade to black.

Apples of my eye

A grand time

Enjoyed two beautiful autumn days in Syracuse with the kids before Rob joined us late Friday. On Thursday, after a playground visit with Great Grandma Frances, we went with Grandma Vickie to The Hollow to pick pumpkins, play in a hay maze and maize pit, and enjoy the petting farm. Greta was very excited to learn that she shared her birthday with the 2008 New York State fair champion bronze barrel breasted turkey, Indyk. Lincoln enjoyed himself, too, although his highlight for the day was a ride on Grandpa Larry's lap around the backyard. What is it with boys and things that have wheels?

On Friday, we enjoyed lunch with "Great Gran" and then spent the afternoon at Abbott's apple orchard. Greta proved to be quite the apple spotter and picker. Linc contented himself in the wagon munching an apple the entire time. Will post those pics tomorrow.

Fever boy

Sorry to miss a couple days. Lincoln spiked a very high fever Saturday morning as we left Syracuse for our 24-hour visit to Rodman. He topped 105, which was pretty darn worrisome. Had a couple awful nights sleeping on Mommy's chest in rocking chairs, but seems to be perking up some today. Fever is holding at 101 or lower and it comes down with Tylenol and Motrin. He's playful enough to visit the local zoo today with Greta and her play group. We'll post some photos later this evening. Carey had a slideshow ready to go last night, but Slide.com crashed on her.

Fall fun

Leaves blown and raked into a pile in Great Grandpa Bob's backyard. Hours of fun on Saturday.

A hat he won't take off

Or maybe that's can't. I'm told Linc kept it on his head throughout Wednesday morning's run with Mommy.

We're off to Syracuse and Rodman for a long weekend. May blog from there, or may save all the stories and photos until Monday. Happy Columbus Day to all.

Oops! She did it again!

I think it is time to go shopping for a button or sheet of stickers. I get a discount when I buy more than one. Can I include some for your child(ren) in my order?

Getting to yes

Yesterday was picture day at Greta's preschool. Over the weekend, she kept insisting she did not want her picture taken. She did not want to go to school on Monday. She would not smile for the camera. On and on she protested.

It was shaping into quite a battle. Then I remembered my law school-learned and Air Force-applied skills in principled negotiation. It had worked with labor unions and wing commanders, foreign military officers and secret service agents. I could do this!

I told her we needed pictures for grandmas and grandpas, great grandparents, and aunts. I reminded her of the flower outfit she received from AK, which she previously said she wanted to wear for her class picture. I explained that her entire class was having their picture taken together, and they would miss her terribly if she wasn't in it.

She started to listen. But oh, how she relished her control. She said she didn't want to wear the flower outfit any more. She wanted to wear the dress she picked out at a garage sale over the weekend. Ummmm, OK. It was a Land's End frock that cost $2. She wanted to wear the Easter-like "princess shoes" we picked up at Other Mother's for $3. She wanted seven barrettes in her hair.

Finally, FINALLY, she was dressed and we were out the door. She happily received a compliment from Duncan's dad at drop-off, and LOUDLY announced to everyone waiting, "This is the dress I got at the garage sale this weekend and my shoes are from Other Mothers!"

Did the photographer capture her personality? Her wit? Her charm? Her precocity? We'll have to wait and see. This is what she looked like after school:

Mini Robbie

Lincoln David Merrill, Oct. 6, 2008


Robert Sterling Merrill, circa 1975

Big boy shoes

When Greta started walking we spent $50 at some high-end shoe store called Ollie's, organized a parade and wrote a recommendation to Who's Who in American Toddlers.

When Lincoln started walking, we clapped a few times and bought him an $8.99 pair of Smart Fit shoes from Payless.

Walkin' buddies

Greta's good friend Emma has a brother named Jack. Lincoln and Jack never interacted much when they were infants, but now that they're toddlers in the true sense of that locomotive word, they are starting to pal around a bit. Here they are today at Car Wash Playground, so named by Greta because, yup, it's across the street from a car wash.

Rise and whine

Rob previously lamented Greta's preference for yours truly. Despite our efforts, she insists on being mama's girl first and last each day, as well as the rare occasion in the middle of the night if she awakens to go potty, loses a stuffed animal, or realizes she has become "untucked." Although endearing, it is also a bit annoying when her request for my attention is delivered in a high-pitched nasal sing-song fashion.

Such was the case yesterday morning. Exasperated when her demand for my presence also woke up her brother, who was then crying, I snapped at her, "Greta, please stop whining! I am right here. You just need to wait." She looked at me, appeared surprised, and replied, "Mom, I'm not whining. This is my voice. Usually people's voices sound different. Mine doesn't sound like yours. It's mine." Huh? "Usually"?!?! How old are you?! Once I shook off the shock from her response I couldn't help but smile. What a kid!