More Clara-fication

Enjoy a few recent tidbits:


(when she wants to change the song on a CD)
"Can you turn the page?"

After a lovely prayer this evening, I said, "Thank you, Sweetheart," to which she replied, "Not Sweetheart. Sweet PEA."

(as I cut open a sweet potato):

"That steam is against the [Word of] Wisdom."

(on a bright sunny day)
"Shoo sunshine!"

After I reprimanded her for doing something and she half-heartedly curled up in a ball, she informed us, "I was trying to cry."

(upon coming home from preschool)
"My brain is tired . . . and my nose is tired."

As we were praying the other night, I said, "I'm thankful for . . . " and was waiting for her to fill in the blank. She responded with ". . . nothing."

(as Michael tried to hug her after coming home from a hot run):
"Please stop. You're wet. Are you going to take a shower?"

(photo by April Mitchell)


Clara CONSTANTLY--as in, all day, every day, often first thing in the morning before "Hi" and last thing at night--wants me to pretend to be something or someone with me. I don't mind being doggies, or kitties, or bears, or even being a doctor and her being the patient. But I think it goes too far sometimes (and yes, these are all real-life examples. Too real.):


"Can you be Clara and I'll be Mr. Bear?"
"Can you be Count and I'll be Elmo?" (or any variation on Sesame Street characters)
"Can you be the restaurant owner and I'll be the come-iner?" (aka customer)
"Can you be Baker Mommy and I'll be Baker Clara?"
"Can you be Tasha and I'll be Uniqua?" (from Backyardigans)
"Can you be a pumpkin and I'll be a jack-o-lantern?" (huh?)
"Can you be Grandma and I'll be Little Red Riding Hood?"
"Can you be the Big Bad Wolf and I'll be Little Red Riding Hood?" (or more typically, Michael is the Big Bad Wolf)
"Can you be Buster and I'll be Arthur?"
"Can you be Boots and I'll be Dora?"
"Can you be a baby and I'll be a baby, too?"
"Can you be Sister Bear and I'll be Brother Bear?"
"Can you be Mary and I'll be baby Jesus?"
"Can you be Goliath and I'll be David?"
"Can you be the nursemaid and I'll be pharoah's daughter?" (she typically has Mr. Bear being Moses in a basket)
"Can you be Ruby and I'll be Max?"
"Can you be ______ (any of her friends at school) and I'll be Clara?"
"Can you be Wall-E and I'll be Eva?"
"Can you be Bernard and I'll be Annie Rose?" (from a book)
"Can you be Bear and I'll be Franklin?" (Franklin books)
"Can you be Heber Jensen and I'll be Fanny?" (Fanny's Dream book)
"Can you be the Fairy Godmother and I'll be Fanny?" (Fanny's Dream book)
"Can you be the wicked stepmother and I'll be Cinderella?"
"Can you be the clean-up manager?" (what I call myself when I'm directing her in her room clean-up efforts) . . . but then she'll say, "Can you talk in a clean-up manager's voice?" (not sure what that is, exactly)

She has even asked to be some other crazy things, like objects, other real people we know, etc., which put me at a complete loss.

By the way, have I mentioned Clara's incredible and somewhat freaky memory for names?


I think the reason she likes the pretending is because she likes predictability (a topic for another post entirely)--she likes to have the same thing happen over and over again. It's like watching a movie that you never get sick of. At least, she doesn't.

Book Review: Last Child in the Woods

(Side note: Hooray! My camera was fixed for a whopping $3.43 and now I'm back in business.)

I am always in the market for a good read, so I thought I'd begin occasionally posting book reviews of books I'd recommend.

I recently finished Richard Louv's Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder.


I remember as a child playing in the drained pond behind our neighborhood and bringing cattails home. I recall walking to the waterfalls in the woods with my brother(s?) and neighborhood friends, getting lost, and hitching a ride with a stranger to get back home (yikes). I don't recall my mom knowing where I was all the time, which I think was the case for many of us as children.

Would you let your child do that today? Not me.

This non-fiction book was a fascinating look into how we as a society and as individuals no longer let our children "go play" outside. We have playgrounds and blacktops (which lend themselves to place those children with physical giftedness at the top of the totem pole) instead of natural green places which encourage more creative and longitudinal play--a creek, a pond, trees to climb, hills to run on, etc.


One of the ironies Louv discusses is how our children (and adults) today are taught to "protect the environment" instead of experiencing the environment. Kids today know more about the rainforests of South America and the savannas of Africa than they do about the flora and fauna of their own backyards.


He also addresses obstacles to our preventing our children from playing outside:

1. Time: This is a biggie. Since many of us (myself included) feel uncomfortable sending our children outside to play alone, we have to be willing to take the time to be outside with them, and not only at a park (which is better than nothing), but somewhere where they can explore and imagine and pretend.

(Michael and Clara doing the bicycle after a delicious riverside picnic this week.)

2. Fear of strangers: We do need to be careful, but the chances of stranger abduction are very low (he sites stats, etc.). We shouldn't prevent our children from going outside because of this fear, but I think the trickiest thing is to find a balance between giving them independence to explore and yet being close by as well.

3. Fear of animals, insects, sunburn, etc.: The dangers of the outdoors are real, but so are the dangers of the indoors. West Nile mosquitoes can come inside your house, brown recluse spiders prefer your house, and our houses can have many/more allergens than outside. A solution I thought of would be to teach our children (and learn ourselves) about dangerous bugs, snakes, etc. so the whole family will feel empowered and safe.

Richard Louv argues that outside playtime should be as essential to our children's well-being as their piano lessons and sporting activities. Ironically, the rise in childhood obesity has increased at the same time as a rise in organized sports participation. How could this be? He speculates its cause is because our children go from the computer to soccer practice and home again to sit and do homework or watch an episode on tv. The naturally high activity levels that kids used to have no longer seem to exist.


If you don't think that this book has a case, check out this advertisement I received in the mail for the Imagine It! Children's Museum in Atlanta:

Come and play in the shade this summer at the Exploring Trees Inside and Out exhibit at Imagine It! The Children's Museum of Atlanta. Experience the sights, sounds and scenes, and even climb inside a giant tree at this fascinating exhibit, open now through September 13, 2009.


Hmmm . . . how about just taking your kids to the woods? What a novel concept.

Camera withdrawals

You might have noticed my recent paucity of posts.

The reason is that my camera is currently broken, and I confess that I am a visual learner and like pictures to accompany my text.

However, another issue reared its ugly head with my camera (which will be repaired at no cost to me due to a sensor malfunction--woohoo!) not working: I have a secret feeling that if I can't take a picture of the event, it didn't happen. I think to myself, "How will I remember this experience? Why should we do it if no one--us, posterity, blog viewers--will see it?" (That last question is partly tongue-in-cheek but perhaps more true than I'd like to admit.)

So today when we drove 3+ hours to Tybee Island and then to Savannah and then returned home again by 7:30pm, I was very put-out that we didn't have our camera to record the experience.

Fortunately, our wonderful time today also made me realize a few blessings of being camera-less:

1. I didn't worry nearly as much about my personal appearance.
2. I didn't worry about whether our camera would be stolen when we were out in the ocean.
3. Not every experience has to be recorded for posterity. They can be recorded mentally and then enjoyed further through verbal rehearsal, e.g. "Remember when we were at the beach and you were so brave in the ocean and loved playing in the sand?".
4. Life is for living, not just for being looked at.


I do still think photos, video, and other forms of memory preservation are very important--they were a big part of my upbringing, what can I say?--but I am learning that the experience is much more important than the "having done it" bragging rights.


I'm ashamed that it's taking me so long to learn this simple lesson, but even though the truth hurts, it feels better to share it.