dinosaurs

Our family conversation has been taken over by dinosaurs for the last few months. Apparently, this is somewhat of a rite of passage for the 3-6 year old child. I thought that, perhaps, we had avoided it with Greta. And, I have to admit that I was sort of grateful for it. For good reason.

The dinosaurs may be long extinct, but they are still capable of evoking terror in my home. I don't know if you are aware of the fact or not, but scientist don't know the answers to many of the questions about the dinosaurs. They are shrouded in mystery. For Greta, this is troubling to no end. She would like to know much about the prehistoric beasts, but she is mostly interested in how and why they died. I know the theories, but went along with checking out multiple books about the dinosaurs at the library. When it came time to say that scientists just aren't sure how they died, Greta burst into tears. "But how did they die? HOW? HOW?"

I repeated, "Well. It could have been the asteroid. It was because there wasn't food. There might have been disease. It was along time ago. Scientists have theories, but they don't know for sure."

Hysteria. "But I want to know HOW THEY DIED."

I tried another tactic. Well, you'll just have to become a paleontologist and discover this someday.

No consolation. "But, why did they all just DIE?"

I switched gears again, picking up a book, "You know what? This one says that they are pretty much sure that it was the giant asteroid."

Through tears, "Are you sure?"

This conversation has been repeated multiple times, each time slightly less intense, thankfully. But, it left such a mark on young Graham that he has been known to bring it out as a chip to play whenever Greta cries. "Greta, I will be a pawentowogist and find out how the dinosaurs died for you." This would be fine and good and even cute if it weren't for the fact that he chimes in with this at times when we are not talking about dinosaurs, thus bringing the opportunity to lament yet again to the forefront. Thanks, Graham.

lip removal

Graham: Nanamom, can you take my lips off of me?

Me: What do you mean?

Graham: Take my lips off of my body so they're not there any more.

Me: Why would you want to do that?

Graham: Because my lips are pink and I don't like the color pink.

Me: (silent, supressing the urge to mention other certain body parts that are pink.)

tornadoes

Graham has had a whirlwind of a fall. He was thrust into daily montessori school despite his protests that he'd rather not go. And, he goes every day.

He's run the whole gamut of emotions: excited that he's a big boy, sad to be away from mommy, furious over the fact that we don't let him politley decline from this daily engagement, anxiety that mommy won't come back to get him, frustration that he is expected to use the toilet at school. The list goes on.

But, recently, finally, he has decided that school is a place that is fun. He can be himself. Last week I asked him what he did at school. He told me that he sang his tornado song for the kids. I was previously not familiar with this song, so of course, I took the bait to ask how that song goes. The lyrics are really quite stunning:

The tornado. The tornado.
It goes to get the guys. Then it dies.

And the tornado's guts go up to Heaven.

And its skin comes down to go to the place where the dinosaurs dieeeeed.

I had to ask, "Graham, do you know what a tornado is?"

"A big big wind."

I hope the kids were impressed.