The Girl Who Wrote Poop

My Awesome Granddaughter Charlie will be seven next month. She is learning so many things. She has been reading and writing for a while. She has a special affinity for the word Poop. She wrote it a bunch of times on my bedside notepad because she wanted to make me laugh, she said...

She did make me laugh, albeit inappropriately. She knew I would, because she remembered how I had responded to my Mother's Day card...

(She's also very good at drawing.)

And now she's been chosen to play Mary in her school's Christmas program.

Take a moment to let that sink in...the girl who writes--and draws--"Poop" is going to play the Blessed Mother.

I was delighted when Meagan called me yesterday with the news. I chuckled all afternoon, wondering how she had been chosen. I realize that those in charge are probably not privy to the full extent of Charlie's creativity. No, I thought, it must be because she's tall and reads well. Or maybe it was her hair. I know Mary wasn't really a blond, but a lot of statues and pictures show her as one. If that was the case, then Charlie was born to play Mary. Then again, other than a little extracurricular chatting, I hear she's quite well-behaved in school. Maybe that was why she was picked for such an honor...

Whatever the reason, we've known that Charlie has coveted the role of Mary ever since last year's program, when she took off her sweater and draped it over head like a veil.

I had to wait until this morning to learn the selection process that will surely lead to stardom for our girl...A popsicle stick with her name on it was pulled out of a jar. Divine Intervention is what I'm thinking.

Spit Soup

See Charlie. Funny funny Charlie. See Charlie spit. Ewwww...Gross, Charlie...

Charlie On Table With Cup, August 2011.

At a glance, this picture doesn't appear to have anything to do with the spit soup in the title. But it does show Charlie being Charlie (i.e., doing something that we probably shouldn't allow her to do, and getting away with it because she's so cute and funny.) And it does show Charlie's cup. So, actually, it does have something to do with spit soup...

Charlie loves having her own cup of water. She sips from it frequently during the day. (Actually, she has several cups, and they're all spillproof, so we don't have to worry about wet carpeting or furniture or television remotes -- usually.) Sometimes Charlie likes to hold water in her mouth for a while, letting it spill out on whatever unsuspecting soul might be sitting in her path.

Last night we were watching her play at her little sink/stove/refrigerator combo. She often makes "soup," stirring it before she puts it in the microwave, supplying her own sound effects for the beeping buttons. This time she took her pretend to a new level. She took a drink from her cup, walked across the living room, got down and her hands and knees and spit into her bowl as we all watched, marveling at how she'd made that up all by herself. And of course we laughed.

"We" here includes Mommy, Daddy, and Grandpa Greg as well as myself. Please don't judge us. Sometimes an imaginative toddler is the best entertainment in town.

Charlie Breaks Bad

Summer 2011 -- Charlie Driving Daddy's Car (in her pajamas).

These are the best of times, and the worst of times...

Who said that? Someone important, I'm pretty sure. And after today, I think I know what he meant!

Charlie is almost 21 months old now. For me, she is at the most wonderful age a child can be. (Of course I'm her Grammakate, so I'm going to say that, no matter what age she is!)

This is the age when she's really testing her limits, learning that she can do more (and get away with more) than she could have dreamed of a few short months ago. She's learned how to communicate -- with words, of course -- But she's also learned that words aren't always necessary; the right smile will get Grammakate to let you play with her camera, her phone...or almost anything else your heart desires!

I can remember when a loud voice or a stern look would reduce Charlie to tears (and me, too). Not anymore. I say, "Charlie!" and she hears "Challenge!"

Like today, when she was lifting the cover off the floor register. I could imagine all kinds of household items turning up missing. Or a small cat being stuffed down there. Or maybe even a chubby little leg getting stuck. I said "No, no, Charlie," and replaced the cover. She laughed and gleefully removed it again. I said my line a little more firmly, emphasized my seriousness by drawing my eyebrows together and put the cover back. Charlie laughed and removed the cover...Repeat three or four additional times, with my voice becoming a little louder and my brow furrows a little deeper with each repetition. Charlie simply laughed and continued to remove the cover. Until I placed a chair on top of it. (I know she could have moved the chair, but she apparently didn't -- at least not yet.)

Then there was the matter of the coffee table...the coffee table which, once Charlie started pulling herself up and stumbling around precariously, found a new home, shoved up against the fireplace instead of in front of the sofa. (We must like it there, because there it still sits.) The thing about this coffee table is that it looks like a big trunk. The top is divided into two halves, which slide open to reveal a big, trunk-like storage space. (I know -- awesome, right?) Charlie likes to slide it open and climb in, where she rustles around among CD's, cassettes, game pieces...whatever the heck is in there.

She recently learned that once she was inside the table, getting on top of the table was a piece of cake! And I should have seen this coming, but after a few short weeks of entertaining herself -- and me -- by sitting on the coffee table (entertaining because I have photos of her mom doing the same thing at the same age), Charlie decided to stand up on that wobbly, slidy-topped coffee table and see what she could reach up on the mantle -- mostly breakable stuff that had been placed out her ahem reach.

I think it's worth noting here that my very perceptive granddaughter always waits until I am giving 4-month-old Teddy a bottle before beginning her climbing expeditions. Today, she learned that there are some things that will make Grammakate set that baby boy down for a moment. She might have been testing her limits, but she found out what mine were...Oh, who am I fooling? I'm clearly the one who was being tested all along!

(Before I was forced to interrupt poor little Teddy, I actually heard myself say, "Charlie, you sit down on that table!")

Okay, just one more, and then I must stop; elstwise you'll think I'm complaining...

Although Charlie has yet to show any interest in crayons as anything other than something to scatter widely around a room, I periodically pull out a plastic bin of them and an Elmo coloring book, purchased especially for her. I start coloring (just waiting for the day when she'll join me) and she starts scattering. When there are no more crayons in the bin, I gather them up, and we're finished with "art" for a while. Today, however, the bin of crayons didn't make it back to their shelf, but rather, sat on the table in the living room. Where Charlie could reach them. I watched her pick up a yellow one and hold it to her eye. She said, "Eye." (See how smart she is?) Of course I said, "No, no, Charlie. Don't put the crayon in your eye." Which prompted her to laugh, turn around and run as fast as could, holding a yellow crayon to her eye. I have no explanation for this strange behavior.

Ah, life is fun and funny, exciting and harried, noisy and crazy, and I really don't want these days to go by too fast. Because I know that they will, though, I want to remember them. I think I'll remember today as the day Charlie "broke bad."

A Blog About Buttons

Buttons, 9/19/11, MSN Paint

It happened, and I have to write about it while I can still see it happening...

Today Charlie arrived at my house wearing a cute white denim jacket. It was, like everything else she wears, adorably fashionable, but her mom didn't like the buttons. Easy to replace, I said. So that's why Meagan and I were sitting at my kitchen table this afternoon, examining the contents of my button jars.

I can't really explain why we allowed Charlie to sit in the middle of the table like a pudgy little center piece...Well, yes I can -- because she's so cute. In retrospect, though, I wish we hadn't allowed her to hold that blueberry smoothie all by herself, but that's water under the bridge smoothie on the table. And that's not the subject of this blog, anyway...

So there we were, each of us with a jar full of buttons spread out on a placemat in front of us, with Charlie randomly doing her own research (only once attempting a taste test). Maybe it was her calm, unrushed demeanor, or maybe it was the mesmerizing effect of buttons running through our own fingers...Whatever. Meagan and I were lulled into a button-induced stupor. Our guard was down.

Suddenly, there was a change in the air. Charlie sensed it. She restlessly began scrambling the buttons with her hands, apparently enjoying the sound they made as they slid from the table onto the floor. Just as I was thinking that it might be a good idea to get her interested in something [educational] on TV, Whoosh! My placemat was whipped away, right before my very eyes. Buttons went flying everywhere.

Quick-thinking Meagan immediately tried using her hands to anchor her placemat, but to no avail. Before I could say, "No, no, Charlie, you mustn't scatter Grandma's buttons all over the kitchen like that," Charlie had distracted her mother by sprinkling a few more buttons on the floor. Of course when Meagan released her grip on her placement in an attempt to stop the little button blaster, Whoosh! Another placement whipped away, more buttons flying.

And that's how it happened. Writing about it took priority over picking up buttons. But if you'll excuse me now, I have something to do...

Popcorn to Remember

I drew this picture of Charlie when she was still Meagan's little Belly Bean (January 27, 2011, "Belly Bean Revisited"). It shows how I envisioned the two of us happily sharing a bowl of popcorn...

Turns out, I was clairvoyant!

That's right, Charlie and I make popcorn with my hot air popper nearly every day now. And not just for our entertainment -- We eat it, too, even though popcorn is pretty high on the list of choking hazards for toddlers. But wait -- before you call Child Protective Services, let me explain!

See, this is how the popcorn looks in my bowl:

See all those kernelly little barnacles sticking out all over the place?



Well, now look...

Voila! No more choking hazards -- just smooth little puffs of fluffy, corny goodness for my Charlie to enjoy!

I only hope that among Charlie's memories, there will always be a special place for one of Grammakate biting the barnacles off her popcorn just to make her world a little safer. (Because I don't remember anyone biting the barnacles off my popcorn.)

Cute Things

(Photo by Meagan Kopp and Picnik.com)



Of course Charlie is a pretty "Cute Thing" herself, but this post is about some Cute Things she's done recently...

We spend the better part of our days, whether at Charlie's House or Grammakate's, with televised children's programming for background noise. (Don't judge me until you've tried to entertain a very busy one-year-old with only your own devices, whatever they may be!)

We tell time by the tube...If I hear Moose A. Moose, I know that it's approaching either the hour or the half-hour. Sometimes I'll use a program as a conversation starter. The other day I said, "Hey, Charlie -- It's time for Between the Lions, thinking maybe she'd come back with, "Sweet -- Let's watch it!" or, perhaps, "Can we watch Franklin today instead?"

But Charlie responded by fetching her "Little Lion" book and bringing it to me in the kitchen, where I was busily picking up puffy little fruit snacks from the floor. Such a clever baby -- She'd rather read a book than watch TV!

Yesterday, I was reclining on the floor, watching Charlie practice her Hatbox Ballet. (That's where she climbs up onto a hatbox that's about half her height, balances on one foot, and then climbs down -- which she does masterfully, both forward and backward. Since she rarely falls -- I mean, since she rarely gets hurt when she falls -- I'm allowed to savor a moment or two of immobility.) After a few warm-up climbs, she decided to up the difficulty level by clutching a picture frame in one hand as she stepped. I was impressed when, discovering that she was not quite ready for Object-Clutching, she placed the frame in the center of the box, stepped up, then bent to retrieve her prize -- a task made more difficult by the fact that her feet were now squarely on top of it. (Sensing disaster, I jumped up and rushed to the rescue, thinking What a clever baby indeed!)

Charlie is a great tease. Someone (someone who wanted to remain in my good graces, most likely) recently told me that teasing in a young child indicates a high level of intelligence. If that's true (and I've no reason to doubt that it is), then our girl is a genius!

Charlie's favorite game is having someone say, "Hey -- You give that back!" It doesn't matter if it's a pair of socks snatched from a freshly folded pile, a magazine you're trying to read, or the camera you're wildly trying to focus on a rapidly moving subject. She'll hold out the object as if to say, "You want this?" then snatch it back and run. (Well, actually, it's just fast walking, but you can tell by her face that she thinks she's running.) It's all great fun, until someone gets hurt -- or tries to play it in a fabric store with baskets of notions and tubes of buttons displayed on low shelves!

Obviously this is not a complete list of Cute Things that Charlie does. My days are just so full of Cute Things, I could gag. But since she's now doing that Cute Thing where she pulls large, heavy objects off of surfaces several inches above her head, I feel that I might as well just click "Publish Post" and play along!