Oh my, have I been lax on keeping up with the Inwe and Larien stories. Sorry about that. It isn’t that I’ve been so incredibly busy that I haven’t had time to sit at the computer. The reason is my husband playing a computer game. I’ll try to make up for the very long absence of stories.
Today was a lovely day here. We took the girls to a park with our neighbors and their two children. Inwe wasted no time in getting on the playground, climbing, sliding, and running. Larien took a little longer to warm up to the available activities, but she quickly decided that climbing and sliding were fun. She found many ways to get up to the two levels of slides: steps, a ladder made out of chain, and climbing back up the slides. The four adults set up a zone defense to watch the three climbing children (the youngest is just barely over a month old, so he was just sleeping or watching). Phill was at the steps and the chain ladder; Charlie was at the bottom of the slides and the “rock” wall ladder. My position was up on the second level of the jungle gym to get the girls safely to the taller slides, and Kate covered the end of the taller slides. It worked quite nicely. I just don’t have the words to describe Larien climbing. She was spectacular. She tackled climbing apparatus that Inwe won’t attempt.
Inwe told me about the boys playing at recess on Thursday. The conversation was interesting and took place in the car as we drove home from preschool.
“Mommy, I played with the boys today.”
“That’s great, Inwe.”
“I can’t play with the boys anymore.”
“Well, Inwe, you can if you want to.”
“No, I can’t.” At this point I am amazed that a three year old has this exclusiveness of boys v. girls. I’m ready to express my indignation telling Inwe that she certainly can and that no boy should tell her she cannot play with him. Inwe, however, fills me in on the entire situation. “They were playing Power Rangers and shooting people. I don’t like that.”
“OOOHHHH! Well, if you don’t want to play Power Rangers, you certainly don’t have to.”
“I’m not going to, Mommy. I played trucks with a big girl.”
Last Monday the girls and I planted some tomato plants. The six plants are an heirloom variety called Cherokee Purple. I had to get these plants just to see what kind of tomatoes result from something with the name purple. (I do have other, more generic tomato types planted.)
Planting anything with the girls requires lots of patience, of which I have very little. Somehow, we made it work. I first dug out the gross, hard-as-rock clay replacing it with some topsoil. Whenever I found worms I would pull them out and drop them back in the huge hole I was digging. Larien would point out the worms for me. Inwe asked, “Why are you pulling out the worms?”
“Well, I want the worms in the good soil. Their poop helps the plants grow.”
“Would my poop help the plants grow?”
“Uh, no.” I should have seen that question coming.
As I was getting the topsoil (dodging Larien the entire time), Inwe asked if she could pick up the worms. Sure, I said. When I came back with the topsoil, Inwe had at least eight worms in her hand. She took them to see the tomato plants, the marigolds, the pea plants growing nearby, and other places around the yard. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I wish I had. I know it was interesting.
I dug the holes, Larien put the plants in the hole, and Inwe placed a worm near the plant. So each plant ended up with its own worm. That has to be good for growing tomatoes.
Lastly, on the way to the park today Inwe was counting. She stopped at eight (I don’t know why, don’t even ask.) After a few seconds Phill and I heard Larien’s voice. “Nine, Ten, Eleven, Thirteen.” She missed 12, but at 20 months I’m not complaining.
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