Avertissement de neige

Pour mes lectrices montréalaises et anciennes montréalaises… Vous vous demandez à quoi ça ressemble, à Vancouver, un avertissement de neige?

Ça ressemble à ça (et je suis tout à fait sérieuse) :

Température maximum : 2.6 °C
Température minimum : -6.5 °C
Précipitations :
0 mm

Autrement dit, dès qu’il est possible qu’il neige, on lance un avertissement. Assez cocasse pour les Québécois!

Mr Brown can moo…

Can you?

That Dr. Seuss book is our boy’s favorite right now, but the most interesting thing is how he’s starting to remember the story and tell it too us when we’re reading it. When Zak reads the first part of the title: “Mr Brown can Moo…”, our son says the end “Can you?” The first time Zak and I looked at each other with this “Did he really say that?” look on our faces. But he did say that, and he repeated it again and again. When we turn to the page where there is the hippopotamus chewing gum, he makes the right sound “Grum, Grum, Grum!” (don’t ask… that’s how the story goes). In another book, he turns the page and goes “Stop!” because that’s what the character in the book says.

He baffles me every day!

Play date… sort of

Today, Zak is playing daddy daycare.

Neighbors called a little panicked a few days ago because they had no daycare today and they couldn’t get out of some work obligations. They were wondering if Zak could take care of their daughter, who’s 2 1/2 years old, for a few hours this morning. Zak gave them a whole bunch of ideas of other people they could ask instead – not because he doesn’t want to help them, but because he’s not very confident. He has never taken care of two kids at the same time, and come to think of it, neither have I (well, not two kids that young at least). Unfortunately, our neighbors didn’t manage to find anyone else, so Zak accepted to pitch in.

Their daughter is potty-trained and she’s a very good, quiet kid who doesn’t need too much attention, so I’m sure things will go well. But I can certainly understand why Zak is a bit nervous. What if our son is jealous, or refuses to share HIS toys in HIS house with her,  or is the generally uncooperative toddler he’s been lately. We don’t have a lot of friends come over with young children, so we’re not sure how things will go. Luckily, the little girl is used to daycare so SHE will know how to share toys and cooperate with adults.

I’ll be curious to know how things went and if, after today, Zak will decide that we’re never having another child!

Je t’aime!

Yesterday, for the first time, our boy said “Je t’aime” (I love you, in French).

Ok, to be fair, I don’t think he actually understands what it means – love is, after all, a very complicated abstract concept. In the same way he learned to say “You’re welcome” instead of “Thank you” when someone gives him something, he is only repeating what he hears around him. We say “Je t’aime” to him a fair number of times every day, so sooner or later it was bound to be said back to us. And given our enthusiastic response, it should happen again.

But let’s forget all of that intelectual analysis and revel in this one important fact: yesterday, for the first time (of many, I hope), our son told Zak and I that he loves us.

Nothing new…

I was going to write about how our son kept us up most of Thursday night because of his cold: he would cough and wake up, start crying, which would make him cough some more, until he was barely able to breathe, and of course we would run to his help and take a while to put him back to bed only for the cycle to start over again a few minutes later.

I was also going to tell you how he slept a lot better last night as his cough is almost gone and we were able to let him fall back asleep on his own when he woke up, instead of having to rush to prop him up to help him breathe again. Yesterday we had called the clinic to get him a doctor’s appointment, but today we canceled it as he was doing much better and we figured he would do better sleeping (the appointment was at nap time) than going all over town only so we could be told he was getting over a simple cold.

It struck me, however, how bored you must all be with tales of my lack of sleep. It seems like this is all parents of young children talk about (well, that and poop). I guess it is because our well-being revolves so tremendously around that simple equation: when we sleep well, we’re energized, happy and our baby is the most wonderful thing ever. When we don’t sleep, we quickly get paranoid and depressed and our baby… Well, enough said!

Now if only we could fix Zak’s sleep cycle! It’s him, lately, who hasn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours in a row. And the less he sleeps, the more he worries about not being able to sleep. It’s a very, very vicious circle…

And we think they don’t understand what we say…

Our son’s favorite books these days are anything written by Dr. Zeuss and a collection of wonderful French books compiled by Henriette major. They each come with a CD, but he’s quite happy to just look at the amazing illustrations while I sing the songs that I know. So Saturday we are doing just that and he is all cozy on my lap when all of a sudden, he starts bawling! My first reflex is to make sure I’m not crushing his foot by mistake or anything like that, but no, he seems fine. I cuddle with him for a sec and he stops crying, so I turn the page, move on to the next song, and forget about it.

Sunday, I’m reading the same book when all of a sudden, out of nowhere again, he breaks up in tears! I realize it’s at the exact same point of the same song, “Ah! Vous dirais-je maman”. It’s a made-up verse that goes like that (with a quick translation for those who need it):

Ah! Vous dirais-je maman (Oh, mommy, let me tell you)
Ce qui cause mon tourment (What makes me really upset)
Papa veut que j’aille au lit (Daddy wants me to go to bed)
Quand ce n’est même pas la nuit (When it’s not even night time)

So I comfort him, decide to never sing this song again, and move on. But Monday, our boy starts bawling as I’m reading a different song, earlier in the same book (which is all about lullabies). It’s “Cola mon p’tit frère”, which goes roughly like this: “Go to sleep, my little brother, go to sleep and we’ll give you milk”.

So now any song about bed time is off limits, I guess! And there I thought he didn’t really follow what I say when I read a story!

The funniest thing is, when I actually tell him it’s time to go to bed, he doesn’t start crying! Sometimes he says no, but most often than not he’s happy to run upstairs, as our bedtime routine includes a wrestling session with daddy and hiding under the covers on our bed, all of which he loves. And even when it’s really time to brush his teeth and get ready, he does run away from me, but only for the pleasure of being chased. He doesn’t actually mind going to bed. He falls asleep on his own and never cries anymore. And I have never, ever read either of these stories at bed time or before putting him down for a nap.

Some mysteries may never be solved…

J’ai deux yeux, tant mieux!

Mon fils et moi faisons semblant de faire à manger en versant des aliments imaginaires dans un contenant vide. Il décide que c’est du lait de poule, son nouvel aliment préféré qu’il a découvert à Noël et dont il s’ennuye depuis que les magasins n’en vendent plus. Je nomme donc les choses dont on a besoin pour faire du lait de poule : du lait, puis…

- Il faut des oeufs pour faire du lait de poule… As-tu des oeufs?

Et mon fils, tout fier d’avoir compris ma question, pointe ses yeux avec un grand sourire!