Fascination with nuclear energy

I took the kids ice skating this afternoon. On the way home, I wanted to resume listing to a podcast I had started on nuclear energy. Ethan didn’t like that idea, instead wanting to listen to a Patch the Pirate recording. Normally, I’ll play kids programs, but this time I decided to go ahead with the podcast.

Despite being mostly way over his head, the interview with a nuclear energy expert turned out to be more interesting that Ethan had imagined. When we got home, he asked if he could stay in the car and keep listening.

Ethan on heights

“We’re up so high it’s like a map on the iPhone.”

Another Ethan first: He swam across the pool.

The swimming pool at our Florida resort destination varied from 3’9” to 4’10” in depth. Ethan could perceive the difference and was always held a deeper respect for the deep end, yet the irony was that the entire pool was a “deep end” to Ethan. The two exceptions were a stairway in the corner and a sun seat, which was a two-foot-wide ledge along one wall resting six inches underwater.

The resort had an inflatable vest that Ethan wore to float around the pool the first three days. That third evening we swam late enough that there was no one to give the vest to at the end of the day, so I put it among a pile of damp towels so it wouldn’t blow away in the strong wind. Who knows what the resort laundering staff did it, but the next morning when we went to check out the vest again, no one knew where it was.

Ethan had some preparation for the dilemma. His swimming lessons at the YMCA had him on the shallow end of the pool doggie paddling with a flotation belt. He’d practiced with me in the big pool at the Y a few times swimming as far as he could with the swim belt.

This time, he was on his own. For half an hour or so, he played around on the sun deck and stairway and took little swims to the other corner wall. Next he swam to me in the middle pool. Then a bit further and further. Within an hour, we was swimming across the pool.

Another Ethan first: He zipped his jacket.

An Eliana first: She set her place at the table.

As Beth was preparing dinner, there was a quietness about Eliana. The typical sounds of her playing with toys or Ethan were missing. While often a sign of trouble, this evening it meant a welcome surprise: she quietly pushed her high chair into the dining room and brought over her tray and bib in preparation for supper.

An Eliana first: She cleaned up for Ethan.

Usually Ethan practices when his sister is asleep. And, part of Ethan’s violin practice involves him picking a Life Saver, unwrapping it, and saving it for the end of his practice where he gets to balance it on the tip of his bow. The wrapper ends up sitting on the piano bench until his lesson is over. Then, he puts it in the trash (after Mommy reminds him, of course).

But, tonight, Eliana was up for the lesson. As we started our practice, I noticed that she walked away, and then I heard the cabinet door close. I thought to myself, “Could she have?” To my surprise, the Life Saver wrapper had vanished from the piano bench and found its way to the garage can, thanks to a seagull.

Update: The Seagull was smiling and, after I praised her for throwing away the wrapper, Ethan noticed something in her mouth. While at the garbage, throwing the wrapper away, she had apparently found our friend’s gum and decided it would be tasty. Ewww!

~ Beth

Eating with etiquette or not at all

Eliana had no interest in her tortellini at dinner tonight. It didn’t matter whether we put the spoon in her hand or tried to feed her ourselves. What did end up mattering was the utensil. The rest of us were eating with forks. After all, eating tortellini with a spoon is for babies – but apparently not toddlers. Once we gave Eliana a fork, the tortellini became a culinary delight.