Holding Court

Aunt Joanie got Megan a small chest of princess shoes (complete with crown) for her birthday. It arrived on our door step this evening along with the Disney Princess Memory game. Logan likes playing the Memory game even if it is with the "Silly Girlie Princesses." Megan, however, didn't even notice it was there. She was all about the shoes. We made the mistake of telling her the wing chair in the corner of the living room was her throne. Logan explained that princesses get to make the rules. Megan demanded her "magic wand" (although I never did find the right one - oh come on, you know all good princesses have at least three!) and her "fetters." She then held court right through bath time.

Two

Happy Birthday little girl. Oh, wait, I'm sorry. That is "Big Girl." She's quite insistant lately. Although, according to her brother she does not meet the basic requirements of 'big.'

We don't always agree with Logan's pronouncement however. Megan Rose is a BIG spitfire. She's quite big in feistiness. She's got a large amount of love to share and a bucket full of giggles.

She's stubborn. We have no idea where this comes from.

She's a bit bossy. Ok a lot bossy. Again - big question mark. (See me be facetious?)

She's incredibly compassionate and innately mothering. All her brother needs to do is stub his toe and she's all over him with hugs and "That's ok Woden. I here."

She's got a great sense of humor. Her eyes literally twinkle as she teases us...for real.

She's confident and yet she's shy at times.

She's got a memory that gets us in trouble and a set of smarts that gets us into even more.

She's creative and daring. She's girlie right down to the feather boa she requested and the dress up shoes she scuffs around in. She's a tom-boy that can scale the slides with the best of them. She adventurous.

She's talktive. She's musical. She's not even quite in her sleep. She's rarely still. Always on the go and always exploring. She's a parrot with a big brother she follows around and worships. She's his shadow and he's usually happy to have her.

So are we.

Cute....and sassy

Several weeks ago Megan started herself a birthday list. It began with a command to Grandma. A particular outfit she wanted her Bitty Baby to have. Then it grew with another Grandma designated item - a blue dress.

Searching high and low went Grandma and yet no blue dress could be found. Instead, there was a demin skirt and a long sleeve white shirt that Papa picked out. Megan is quite happy with it (Having recieved it yesterday at her birthday party, she wore it today to her very first ever day of Sunday School.)

We told her once, maybe twice, what her shirt said. She was quite impressed and most proud of it. If you asked her what it said, she'd tell you quite proudly:

My shirt say "Cute and Sassy." I cute. I sassy. That me.

The flu would have been better. . .

On Saturday Megan ate a peanut-butter chip or two as we baked.

A few moments later Megan threw up a peanut-butter chip or two. Then she emptied her stomach some more and sported a nice set of big red splotches all over her stomach and chest.

She got a special ride with Mommy to the doctor's office where they handed down the diagnosis: potential allergic reaction.

Today we got the referral. We called the allergist. We saw the allergist.

It *is* a peanut allergy.

Frankly, I would have preferred she had simply picked up the stomach virus that's going around.

There is a chance Megan will outgrow her allergy - 1 in 5 kids do. We won't know her odds of having that sort of luck until she takes a blood test to measure the severity of the allergy.

My own card

Megan loves a good book. She very sternly commands any reader in her midst "sit there and read to me" when the whim hits her. As her 2nd birthday approached and her love of a good story grew, we decided it was time to get her better aquainted with the library.

Now Megan has been there before. She's even gotten books from there before. In the past, however, Megan has also been apt to unshelve as many books as she could get her fingers on between climbing on stools and tackling the giant Dora in the children's section.

This last visit was different. First we got her a library card. She very proudly carried it through the stacks with her informing anyone that crossed her path, "This is my card. I buy books now."

At 22 months

Megan, at 22 months old, is already shown that she is a spitfire. She's stubborn and opinionated -- and articulate enough to prove it at every turn. She's got a keen sense of what she likes and what she does not. (Very clearly stating "No! I do not like that. Put it away!" if you dare attempt to trick her.)

She worships her big brother to the point of mimicry. Sometimes this works out in our favor. For example, she's decided to potty train herself simply to be "like Logan Daniel" (as she's begun to refer to him on occasion. He's glad to hear less and less Brabee.) Although Meg has yet to meet a public restroom she's willing to make her acquaintance with she can go the full day dry (if you ignore naps) at home or Grandma's house. Seriously, we've done nothing on this front. She basically woke up one day announced, "I want go potty!" And she did. . .and she has ever since.

She's also very well aware of the great injustice of age discrimination. Logan went to Vacation Bible School for the first time this year. Having completed one full year of preschool, he's now old enough for the program our church offers for a week each summer. The last day, the kids put on a little assembly for all the adults that can find room in the sanctuary -- which is a lot. There were 300 children in the program and easily an average of two guests per child.

Megan, still not old enough to attend VBS, sat with those of merely watching the performance. The kids started their first song. Megan knew it, of course. She had, by default, learned the songs as Logan practiced with the CD they sent home with him one day.

At the moment, however, she was restless and yearning to do what she normally gets to do when in the sanctuary - tour the stain glass windows on either side. I whispered in her ear, "Why don't you sing! You know the song. Can you do the train whistle?"

She shook her head. She pushed out her bottom lip, tucked her chin down and looked up at me with that sad little face.

"No. I too small," she sniffed. "I too small to sing with Brabee."

She's loving. She likes to hug and cuddle. She blows kisses and rubs noses. She signs "I love you" as she says it. She hugs someone's leg and announces, "I like you." She tells one heckuva confusing knock-knock joke.

Megan loves to be read to. She commands it - "Daddy, you sit in that chair and read me Dora book." She loves to draw, sometimes on things we'd rather she not. She loves to help. She loves to mother, particularly her brother. As we headed out for some child-sized shoe shopping today, Logan was meandering his way to the van. Megan, already half buckled in her seat, leaned a bit to his side of the vehicle and yelled sternly, "Woden Danul get in dis car now!" He did, by the way.

And speaking of shoes, her response to the trip is simply a snapshot of what life with Megan is truly like. I knew better than to pick out her shoes without her. Daddy sat on the bench waiting patiently. Logan, still in the same size shoe and therefore out of the shopping 'fun', played off to the side. Megan followed me to the toddler girl section.

"I like these shoe," she said and handed me a hideous pair of shiny black patent leather Mary Janes with leopard print detailing. I told her they would not go with any of her pretty summer dresses. She shrugged and said, "Not now. I put back here."

I showed her what I had in mind - simply Mary-Jane style white leather Keds. She approved. We put them on her, she took off happy. I paid. Bruce lifted her up to ensure a swift departure. She looked down at her feet as he moved to the door and said, "Hmm, I like these new shoes."

Whew.

We headed to Toys R Us so Logan could spend his allowance money. He'd saved his regular $1 a week and the bonus he earned for the patio help. He had $8, a $3 off any purchase coupon and a lot of big plans. As we stepped from parking lot to sidewalk, Megan wiggled. She demanded I put her down.

"I want try my new shoe," she told me. I let her down and watched her run a few steps. She stopped. She turned and smiled at me as she said, "Yah. They work."

Little chef

Megan made Logan's birthday cake. She helped prepare the pan by smearing shortening all over it. She helped by putting flour in the pan. She poured the cake mix in the bowl. She poured the various ingredients in the bowl with some assistance and then, all on her own, she turned the mixer on. She was very proud of herself, as she should be. She will be most impressed to see the finished frosted product. Wonder if she'll take credit for that part.

No more baby bed

For a lot of different reasons, we made the decision to move Megan out of her crib sooner rather than later. You know little things like when she really put her mind to it she was mulling over how to escape the confines of the crib (if her legs had been just 'that' much longer she’d have been out.) Or the fact that the side rail had broken once and was repaired in such a way we couldn't really lower it any longer. Or the fact that she napped well on her grandparent's bed when she was over there.

With all that in mind and a generous Grandma ready to gift a new room, we headed out and placed the order. A new big girl set for Megan and a new set for Logan.

As luck would have it, both sets arrived around the same time. At least close enough that we could schedule delivery for the same day – this past Saturday. Megan was beside herself when she saw the furniture arrive. She was clapping and giggling, barely catching her breath between laughs, as she watched Daddy and Papa attach the headboard to the old bed frame. The first moment she sat on her new bed, she rubbed the blanket and sighed.

We referred to it as the "big girl bed" and Megan shook her head no. "This Megan's Princess bed," she said, "No more baby bed. Me big girl."

We worried about how she'd take to it – she is, after all, only 21 months old this past week. We worried if she'd sleep or if she'd climb out and visit. All that usual stuff.

However, she went in without a fuss. It was a night just like every other night since she began to lull herself to sleep in her own room. She woke up in the moring still talking about "My princess bed."

From May 28th. . .

I was attempting to email Bruce, who was away on a business trip. As I sat typing, Megan appeared in the doorway. She was crying the fake cry she cries when she wants her way but does not want to burden herself with wiping away actual tears. "I WANT MOMMY! MOMMY HELP ME!" she was saying over and over.

She stood in the doorway of our porch/playroom/office. It's a sliding glass door with a single step down into what used to simply be a sunroom. She normally can navigate the step on her own but only when she's got a free hand. At the moment, her hands were both full with Little People - Farmer Jed in one hand; Maggie in the other.

I lifted her and placed her on the floor next to me. That was not good enough.

"I want sit Mommy lap!" Megan declared. And that is never good when I'm trying to type because Meg's only content with being on my lap while I type for so long before she's stealing the mouse and removing my hands from the keyboard. (For example, at the moment I began to compose this, the mouse was sitting atop the scanner just out of her reach for it's own saftey.

I sighed as I lifted her. Moments ago I had excitedly informed her that it was Sunday and that meant Church and that meant she'd be in the nursery with "Miss Sue." Meg is a recent 'stay without a fuss' convert. She smiled sweetly at me and told me, "No. I want Mommy." And that just wouldn't do since Mommy can not bring squirming toddler to the front of the church to read her scripture verse. Figures she'd make this choice to protest the day I was the lay-reader.

Happily settled down on my lap, Megan grinned. She had gotten her way. She had won. She was putting her Little People in and out of their red car. "Watch out Mommy!" she yelled as she crashed the little red car driven by Sonya Lee into my wrist.

Planting a kiss on the my little 20-month old boss' cheek I said, "You are going to be a handful today, aren't you?"

She smiled at me with the seemingly angelic smile that fools so many others. She nodded and said very simply, "Yeah."

Milestone-ish

In sleep related news, not only is Megan now a put myself to sleep and stay asleep all night kind of gal - she's also a "do it without demanding milk in a bottle" kid. It really isn't a surprise though. Meg merely confirmed what we've come to believe.

There are certain things a parent must insist upon - you will learn not to touch the hot stove, for example. You will learn not to run into the street. There are the things a child ought to have some say in - potty training would be one example. Some children need a little nudge to move to developmental milestones dictated more by willingness to grow in that area than evolution of physical skill.

Megan, on the other hand, is a girl with her own mind. We can hold our breath until we pass out and she still won't budge on our say so. She will, however, flip the switch on herself, in her own way, at her own time. One night she'll be screaming bloody murder unles she's got someone to rock her to sleep. The next night she's contently singing lullabies to "baby" (aka her doll) as she drifts off on her own in her crib. This latest mini-milestone was the same way. One night she was demanding a full bottle before bedtime stories. The next night she was refusing it out right and asking "More books. Mommy read Bob Builder now."

And so I read. And now that's what we do. We bathe. We dress. We play a little. We read a lot. We go to sleep.

All on her say so.

First "bike"

Megan loves whatever Logan has. With the warm weather, this means Megan loves Logan's bicycle. In an attempt to head off future battles over property, we got Megan her own tricycle - complete with handle for us to push the thing along. She rides a little (and we do mean little) bit. Then she gets off and pushes the trike herself. And then she steals Logan's bike.

Well, we tried.

Size in singing

While I rushed to get something completed and back to the office this morning, Megan watched a Little People video. If you've never seen them, they tend to have cutesy repetitive songs throughout them that dig deep into the recesses of your brain and refuse to get out.

As we rushed from Gymbo to preschool for pick-up, I sang the one that was rattling around my head. "Welcome home. Welcome home. Glad you're back, right on track, welcome home," over and over and over again. I was silly enough to think Meg might giggle at hearing it again.

"Mommy, no sing," she commanded instead.

"Huh?" I said.

"Little People sing that," Megan informed me. "Mommy too big. No sing."

Creative Camera

When you're starting to feel frazzled and the troops are getting restless, I've got a little tip for you. Dig out the web cam you got for free with your last computer, install the upgrade for the "Create and Share" software so you can use aforementioned camera with your newer operating system. Curse the fact that the video capture portion of the software is not working. Calm again when you realize an almost 4 year old and a 19 month old can be amused for more than enough time with instant snapshots of themselves.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Brabee

Recently Megan has shed some basic baby-talk. I'm no longer Mama. I am Mommy. Dada is gone. Daddy reigns. She sat one day and began to rattle off our names - roll call. She got to herself. She used to refer to herself as baby, but in an attempt to help move her towards certain behaviors (like going to sleep on her own and giving up bottles) we've convinced her she's no longer a baby. We offered up "little girl." Logan said "big girl" and that one stuck.

She started with that. "Mommy. Daddy. Buh Girl. . ."

Then she stopped.

She, working hard to grasp pronouns but not quite getting it right, will also use "Me" in reference to herself, as in "Me go too." We also call her "Meggie" as one of her many nicknames. When she's feeling feisty she'll mimic the moniker as "Mimi."

She began roll call again. "Mommy. Daddy. Mimi. . . "

She stared at Logan. She knows his name. She can say his name. She still won't. She calls him "Brabah" - brother. She began her drill again.

"Mommy. Daddy. Mimi. Brabee."

It clicked. Word endings. Right there. We, all of us except her adored sibling, had the long 'E' sound. She was determined to right that wrong.

He hates the nickname. I got yelled at for using it. He tried to ignore her when she called him repeatedly. I got down to eye level and told him he ought to be happy she's calling him that because it's her special name just for him because she does love him. He bought it. She's the only one permitted to use it. And use it she does -All. The. Time.

This morning she came over to me and smiled brightly. She pointed to herself. She tried to cross her arms over her chest but she rushes it so she gets one arm up and the other already moving to the last sign - she points at me. The only sign any one ever really showed her and she's learned it well: "I love you." She says it as she does it but she can't really get the word "love" out. Instead she does her gesturing and she says "I. You. Mommy!"

I know what she means though. I hug her and I tell her "I love you too, sweetheart."

She's proud of herself for telling me. She starts her signing again. "I. You. Daddy!" she yells even though Daddy is in other end of the house and not hearing her. I tell her Daddy loves her too.

"I. You. Brabee," she says as she signs and it's clear she does with all her heart. I assure her it's mutual.

She smiles one last time before running off to play. "I. You. Choo choo trains." She heads down the hallway, still loving things - her dolls, her Dora collection, her sippy cup. At least we were first though. And at least she can tell us.

Chatterbox

Megan has moved from words and occasional phrases to bigger phrases and actual sentences. The other night during dinner, she began to slide out of the chair. (She's given up on the booster seat, preferring to mimic her brother in the "big" chair.) Before we could say a thing to her about it, she declared very clearly, "I am all done."

Her current favorite word? Come on, the girl is 18 months old. Her favorite word is "No."

Her favorite phrase? "NO FAIR!"

Easser Bunbun

Megan wasn't sure she liked being up close and personal with Santa. She smiled nicely as long as he was a safe distance. When she got close, she threw herself to the ground and kept whispering "No Santa."

We weren't sure what to expect with the Easter Bunny. She's seen the Old Hare in pictures and in inflatable outdoor decorations. I asked if she wanted to go see him for real. She very enthusiastically said yes. "Me go Easser Bunbun," she told us. Logan, however, wanted no part of the Rabbit. He was quite happy to hear we could take Megan the day he was with his grandparents for his sleepover.

The line was short yet very slow. Megan was getting anxious. She wanted down to see her furry friend. When finally released she walked up to him, all smiles, and pointed at him. She said softly, "Easser Bunbun." She gave him high fives. We held off putting her on his lap until the camera gal was ready to do her thing. Megan, kept holding her arms up to the Bunny. We realized later she was asking him to pick her up. I sat her on his lap. She cuddle in. She talked to him. She laughed at him. She rubbed his hands. She looked at the camera and smiled sweetly. She cried when we took her down so the next child could have a turn.

Luckily for Megan, the camera girl had the camera tipped to far down. We needed to take a second set of photos. Megan was more than happy to comply. She climbed up, she snuggled in. She was determined to not deal with the camera if she could avoid it. She’d rather talk to Bunbun. The end result was priceless:



I asked her later if she liked visiting the Easter Bunny. She smiled and nodded. "Easser Bunbun, Me cheese-ah!"

Happy 18

Grandma discovered, quite by accident, that Megan, a whole 18 months old, can "read" her name. Oh, and it's not just her name. She picks out her brother's too. She recognizes both names in the places she's seen them on a regular basis and in places they've never been in before. Write down "M-E-G-A-N" and she points to the word, then herself saying "May-may. Me!" Of course May-may is the closest she comes to saying Megan.

Apparently she can also count to three in Spanish. Thanks to Dora books and the occasional Dora and/or Diego show, she knows a few other Spanish words. Her most favorite is "Nose-chiz" (as in buenas noches - good night.)

She's fascinated by the bathroom. She's fascinated by her brother's underwear. To keep her from stealing his briefs and trying to wear them over her clothes, we bought her own. She's sat on the potty. She's used it a few times - with no regular consistancy. This morning the three of us chatted about the potty. Logan told her the big preschooler secret - they all use the potty. No diapers. Megan stared at him with a look of total awe. Then she said, with complete conviction, "No diapah. Unnerwear." I'm really ok with the matra sinking in and taking hold.

Lately it's become clear that Megan understands the vast majority of what is said *to* her. We've begun to try to explain things to her in light of the fact. Last night I talked to her about going to sleep on her own in the crib at night the way she does for naps. She stared at me and said simply "No. Rock rock chair."

"But Megan, do you see Logan rocked to sleep?" She shook her head. "That's because he's a big kid, right? He goes to sleep on his own in his room."

She stared for a moment. Then she smiled, a big, wide, I'll show you smile. "Me," she said patting her chest. "Baby. No big dirl. Baby. Rock rock chair."

Conversing

Megan has been talking for quite a while. Every day the words get clearer. The phrases a bit more sophisticated.

And now, we've had our first real conversation. We were at Grandma and Papa's house for a visit. I was sitting on the floor in one room as we ate our lunches. Megan pulled on my hand. "Mama up," she said over and over until I gave in. "Hand," she commanded. She took mine and led me the living room, releasing me so she could pound on the front door.

"Out door? Mama, play."

I told her no. "It's cold, you don't have your coat."

"I do!" she protested with a fierce nod of her head.

"You do? It's not on you," I said and then tried to figure out what to distract with her.

"Right there! On chair," she said in return. She marched over to the right spot and started to drag our coats to the ground. She handed me mine with a coy smile, "Flip-roo," She commanded. And that, would be Megan's preschool* inspired way to say "Put that coat on!"

*Megan is very much about having or doing whatever Logan has/does. Prime example -- getting her coat on herself. She watches him put his jacket on the way they do in school. Lie the coat on the floor spread open. The collar near your feet. You bend down, slip each hand in the corresponding coat arm. Then 1, 2, flippa-roo, you bring your arms up over your head, letting the coat slide into place as you do. She attempts to follow his lead. Sometimes she gets it right. Other times she gets her coat on backwards. She's gotten it on upside down once or twice also. Not that she cares. She's incredibly proud of being able to do it herself to the point that she insists on going as is.

There are some battles worth fighting Meg on, and others you're just better off walking away from.

She types, she clicks, she cleans!

Megan has been exposed to the computer from early on. She watches her mother use. She watches her father use it. She watches her brother use it. She watches her grandparents use it. From the time she could sit up and reach the keyboard, she wanted to get in on the game.

At 17-months old, she's developed a taste for a few particular games and has moved from mere observer to actual player. At the Sesame Street web site and the Fisher Price web site, for example, there are games that require only a keystroke to trigger the next action. She knows this and she complies - pressing the space bar or a letter key not to hard but not to soft.

There are other games that require some point and click to move the game ahead. She can seem to point but does not have the control to click. We help her out instead. Today we played an animal sounds game featuring her beloved Little People. Two animals, one sound. She has to decide which animal made the noise. She points and says the animals name if she can. She gets it right 9 times out of 10.

From there we moved on to an alphabet game. I knew she could do this on her own even though she'd never seen it before - it was simple keystroke advancement. The title screen came up and she started to clap with her whole body (The hands go, the feet kick together, the knees even meet once and a while.) "A! B! C!" she yelled and pointed to the three letters dancing on our screen. She made her way through all 26 letter screens and was delighted at the end to learn she could trigger the alphabet song over and over and over and over and over by smacking the space bar repeatedly.

And as fun as this is, the real computer coup came last week. Meg perched herself upon Logan's desk chair, pointed to his computer monitor and said "TV. On." Logan agreed to let her use it.

I loaded up the Thomas game he had first developed some degree of mouse control with. Megan loves that blue, smiling train now too. She's taken to hugging Logan's collection when she can. She clapped when the game started. She said the engine's names as they moved through the opening sequence.

Our first task was to wash Thomas. She put her hand on the mouse and I helped her move it to the sponge. I clicked for her. Once you've clicked on it, the cursor remains a sponge until you've cleaned the entire engine. I showed Meg this and let her go.

She did it all herself.

All of it.

And she didn't even see what the big fuss was. I clapped for her when she was done. I told her brother. She just pulled for my hand, placed the mouse in it and said "More."

Essence of Meg

Once in a blue moon I manage to capture a moment on film that captures the soul of a person. In the set of photos I picked up this afternoon, I found one of those photos waiting for me. Everyone that *really* knows Megan and has seen this picture has all said the same thing -- "That is just so Meg. That picture truly conveys her little personality all in one grin."

We had been painting (which is fairly obvious) and Megan, as is her way, really got into her project. She had painted in just her diaper. I forget why but I was about to change her when Logan asked for the art box. It was easier to start her already half-undressed than give her new clothes to drench in paint. When we were done, as is also our custom, Megan was headed for a bath. I was gathering up towels and bubbles while she, it turns out, was running away and hiding. I heard her giggle. I grabbed the camera that was still nearby -- I had photographed Logan's painting with paint bubbles, and I found her. She was in Logan's room, palms up as they are when she asks her favorite question, "Where go?"

"Where did what go? What are you looking for?" I asked her.

She pointed to herself and said "Where baby?"

She saw the camera. She gave me a grin and a "cheese!" I put the camera down and told her I liked the "where go" face better than the cheesey smile. So she did it for me - she posed...and in that moment of cooperation I captured this: