Margaret, the Intrepid Explorer

Some of you may recall a post last week about going out in the snow and dropping a bunch of icy snow on top of Ellie.

That wasn't all that we did.  The motivator of this trip outside was none other than the heroine of this blog, Margaret.*  She wanted to go sledding, and proceeded to detail for me a sledding expedition she went on last year with Helen and Bruce to Bruce's mother's house.  I feel that that sort of elephantine memory is going to get annoying in the future.  And then she told me that she was going to put on her snow pants and her coat and her hat and her boots and her scarf and her gloves, and she was going to go outside and find her sled and bring it to Mommy and Mommy was going to pull her around the yard if we can't find a hill.

Apparently she was hopeful that our backyard had spontaneously sprouted a hill while she slept.  It could happen.

So we went outside, and Ellie went in the swing to await bombardment.  Margaret careered all over the yard, but finally brought the sled over.  I think that these pictures tell a rather eloquent story about Margaret's optimism.  They also tell a story about how her mother appreciates and records her optimism, but does not encourage it, by which I mean, I didn't pull her about the yard in the sled because I was too busy swinging Ellie toward her doom.

And here's where she realized that I wasn't going to help her, and so she went off to find other snowy pursuits.  But she came back, because she couldn't play make effective snowballs (or, you know, do anything at all) with her gloves on, and so she took them off and then couldn't get them back on.  So I am sometimes helpful.

So, you know, sometimes I help her.


*Ellie is also the heroine of this blog.  It's a large, accommodating sort of blog, where no one gets left out.  And those of you who think that Margaret is getting a lot of the press over the last few days would be right, but I maintain that a certain degree of parity is maintained between the two children.  Besides, Ellie's going to get a huge amount of coverage in the next month or so as she learns to walk and talk and all that stuff.  I don't think we need to worry.

Ennui

Now that Margaret has started school, she's clearly planning on being one of those bored, coffee-house visiting, French intellectual types.  She may find the fact that she's not French something of a handicap in this pursuit, but I'm not completely sure that it bars her from the profession.

Actually, the story behind this is that she acquired this scarf from her grandmother's house, and has been insisting on wearing it ever since.  She adores it.  Unwrapped, it comes down to at least her knees on each side, but that does not deter her.  It, like so many things Margaret is deciding to do/wear/think/be these days, is equal parts cute and annoying.

Tea for Two

For Christmas, my mother made Margaret an absolutely amazing Madeline doll which Margaret adores.

And really, the Madeline doll was what everyone got, because the amount of time that was spent crafting her doll-size duffel coat and her doll-size school bag and her doll-size shoes is truly mind-boggling.  But my mother felt that Ellie should get something; unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one's view of this sort of thing) Ellie is too young for obsessions.  And so she got a talking tea set. Which Margaret immediately annexed to herself.  Honestly, I think she had her eye on it before there was any unwrapping, because when we put it under the tree, it made noise, and she was so interested in what could possibly make those noises.*

Anyway, we have been insisting to her that it is Ellie's tea pot, but I'm not sure that we're making much headway, because it is at the moment camping out under Margaret's bed.  But they do occasionally have tea parties when Ellie gets to touch some of her toy.

*I think that we put it down, and she accidentally pushed a button, causing the tea pot to say "Thank you."  She thought this was the greatest thing ever.

School is Tiring

So Margaret went happily off to school both Thursday and Friday, and seemed to do well.  One little boy sobbed and sobbed and sobbed at the drop off, and the other little girl was very sniffly.  I'm not sure whether to be proud or just the tiniest bit offended that Margaret said "Bye, Mommy.  See you later.  I'm going to school" and then tromped into the playground.  I mean, just one backward glance?  One suggestion that spending a morning with me is fun?

Not so much.

Her report from the first day of school was a bit limited, at least as relayed to me.  By the time I saw her Thursday, she had already been interrogated by Leo and her grandmother.*  So when I asked her how school had been, she leaned her head dramatically against the side of the car seat and said "I don't want to talk about it."

But Leo says that she told him that the people at school thought she was pretty great.

And I'm sure they did, but I don't know that she should be talking about it.

Anyway, it appears that she was pretty tired by the end of the day.

It seemed Friday morning, however, that she had recovered her equilibrium, and was very excited to go to school.  I realize that the fact that she was dancing around the room at 7 am singing "School, school, school, school, school" is not conclusive evidence, but that, coupled with the fact of this photo taken at 7:30 seems to suggest that she is pretty excited about this new educational project.

But it was still apparently exhausting, because she came home, and asked for pajamas and slippers what Aunt Betsy gave her, and one Madeline on the Kindle, and then quiet time in my room, Mommy.

So we did that, and she asked this morning if she was going to go again on Monday.  She isn't.  This may cause a certain degree of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

*I don't really think that they interrogated her.  But I do think that they asked all the same questions that I did.

Margaret’s First Day of School

So Margaret started preschool today, and due to the fact that I am also a teacher, I was not there for it.

Which actually reminds me that I probably won’t be there for any of her first days of school, what with my schedule.  Sniff.  Unless she is at a school that I am teaching at, but that would certainly require a new job for me, since I am at an all-boys’ school.

Last night, as I gave Leo relevant details about her day, I reminded him that he needed to take a picture of it.

“If I remember,” he said laconically.

So now you know, all of you readers, that it is not a priority for Leo that you have pictures of Margaret’s first day of school.

“Anyway,” he said “if I forget, you’ll get a really good post about how I didn’t take a picture and so you don’t have one.”

And there is that, but I wanted a picture of Margaret on her first day of school.

As it turns out, he took one.

I think she looks a little waifish.  But that might be because she’s standing in the parking lot.  Or because she found a scarf that she liked at her grandmother’s house and adopted it as her own.  Or because I am reading that into it because I am feeling a little bit guilty about the fact that she is going to school alone (or, you know, with her father) while I am lazing around at school.

We will have more pictures tomorrow, because I’ll do it properly.

2013

We had a wild New Year’s Eve party at our house last night.

Things were done that would make your hair stand on end.

It was raucous.

And, you know, over by 6:30 so that the children could get to bed, which they did.

Benchmarks

So Margaret learned to walk on the evening of the 24th of January 2011.

(Not that I was paying attention to the date or anything.  I mean, I scarcely noticed).

This was 10 days before her 1st birthday.  So Ellie, in order to meet or exceed expectations, needs to learn to walk by the evening of the 21st.

20 days, Ells, 20 days.

Luckily, I think that she’s getting pretty close.

And, you know, the comparisons are not serious.  They’re just easy.  Ellie can wait to walk as long as she wants.*

*I don’t mean that, though, because I really don’t want to have to carry into her kindergarten class.