All of a sudden Edward started nailing his l's.
"Caroline!" he said this morning. "Wake up! The New England Patriots went home for the year! Baltimore won!"
Just like that. No -yine. No New Eng-yand. He even managed to purr out Bawlmere like a native-born crab eater, hon. I suppose it was a little bittersweet (although he still tells me when he finks he's firsty and he calls the long thin pasta skapetti - so I don't think the BBC will be snatching him from me and sending him to mandatory broadcasters' school any time soon) but more than anything I am astounded by the fact that a child of mine finally managed to move from sub-average to average all by himself with just the mildest of parental coaching and zero (0) professional intervention. I honestly did not believe it could be done.
I mean, I know I know. I have read the articles that suggest reiterating mispronunciations clearly and patiently will help a child to self-correct but I have also read that you have to put some foods in front of a kid as many as a dozen times before they fall upon the previously hated food like wee ravenous wolves, which is a total freaking lie concocted and perpetuated by people who lucked into eaters and mistook their good fortune for skill. I mean, what price broccoli, eh Caroline? Or eggs and potatoes, Patrick? Was tonight (Shepherd's Pie Night!) the four or five hundredth time I have put mashed potatoes on Patrick's plate only to eat them myself as I cleaned the kitchen? Five hundredth I think.
Meanwhile Caroline declared that the potatoes were 'delish'. Edward pushed them as fas as possible from everything else he was eating. He would, however, sell his soul for broccoli and zucchini and tomatoes and most mushrooms. Caroline's vegetal acceptance only extends to carrots and the occasional pea. Peas gross Edward out. Patrick is suspicious of the rice in sushi but he will eat raw fish until someone drags him bodily from the restaurant. They all like trout and venison - neither of which I will touch with a forty foot fork. Caroline prefers regular milk to chocolate and water to both. Edward would drink simple syrup if I let him. Patrick likes cranberry juice and sparkling water so he's easy to please anywhere there is a full-bar but out of luck at, like, school.
Huh. Where on earth did that come from?
Edward can say his l's now. Even... sigh... ackshulee.
Edward Gets Organized
Patrick Gets Crafty
I wish I could remember who it was that emailed me out of the blue with the idea that Patrick might like a little potholder loom from Harrisville Designs for Christmas. The colors are lovely and he has, indeed, enjoyed making woven squares. I suspect he will want to graduate to a peg loom soon since it's very much his sort of thing and I am grateful for the suggestion. So, thank you whoever you are. I also got him a soap making kit as another gateway craft. The melt and pour stuff is a nice start but I think we could do better. I should get a book on the subject from the library I suppose. In the meantime he has put quote trinkets end quote into all of the bars of soap he has made thus far and I am nervous to use them for fear of what might eventually fall out.
Caroline Gets Serious
I can never get enough of Caroline in her karate uniform. Never. Also, she's a badass. Her punch, punch, kick is deadly.
PS We have been surprisingly busy. Houseguests. More houseguests. Invitations. My car died and I was able to accurately tell the nice people who gathered over the remains that it felt like it couldn't find a gear. Transmission! they all chorused in unison. Sure 'nuff. Also, damn it. Then my oven ratcheted from a cozy proof temperature to Hellfire while I was making pizza dough and I wanted to beat it to death in my rage over the plastic wrap icicles that covered the oven rack (and my favorite sheet pan. and the dough.)
I think that sums up the week.
PPS Children eat what they eat, is what I am saying.