A gun is for ???

At the time of Beatrix's birth, I was reading 1Q84 (although I have a very hard time referring to it as anything but IQ84) by Haruki Murakami.  I enjoy Murakami, a lot.  I have probably read all of his stuff, but I have lost track somehow.  I like how he weaves his tales together, and I thoroughly enjoyed the first half of this story.  But then it kept going and going and going in a directionless kind of a way.  But, one of the things that came up again and again was Chekhov's notion that if a gun is introduced into a story, it must be fired.  I think Chekhov may have put that in a somewhat more sophisticated fashion like "One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it." (Chekhov).  You will have to read the story the whole way through for yourself to find out whether the gun in IQ84 is fired or Murakami wrote an entire novel just to spite or defy Chekhov.

Currently I am reading David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.  I think the fact that I am able to follow this narrative is a positive sign that I am recovering from my mommy brain.  Mitchell's characters also have a few thoughts about guns.  This novel takes place at the turn of the century (the 18th century that is) in Japan.  At one point, one of he characters, Grote, says:  "The idea bein' he'll go home to his jungle an' show the cannibals the light o' the Lord an' so render 'em more pacific, eh?  Bibles bein' cheaper 'n rifles an' all."  "Oh, but rifles make f' better sport," remarks Gerritszoon.  "Bang bang bang."  (p. 103)

Alasdair has a somewhat similar idea about guns.  One day he said to me "lets play guns, mommy."  I said, "why do we have to play guns?  What's so great about guns?"  "They make a better story, mommy."  And perhaps he's right.  But, he doesn't really know what guns are.  One day as he was playing with an old pump shampoo bottle in the tub he yelled over to Beatrix something to the effect that she couldn't play with guns because she didn't know what they were for.  At first I was just going to let this drift right by me, but then I got to wondering whether he knew what guns were for, so I asked.  His reply was "For squirting water, mommy.  Not like swords, those are just for swording each other out."  Got it.

The Martian Hop

I am not particularly interested in space, at least not consciously.   I like Star Wars, I loved the X Files.  Before Alasdair was born we called him Moonbaby and Seumas writes a blog called The Martian Hop.    Beatrix has a birthmark that some people have said looks like a Hershey Kiss, but I have always thought (and prefer to think) that it looks like a UFO.  So maybe I am into space.  What of it?  Although I am uncertain about how much I love space, I do know that I love Oliver Jeffers.  So much so that Alasdair and Beatrix's rooms are decorated in the style of his books.  Beatrix has The Great Paper Caper, and Alasdair, The Way Back Home.  In the latter, the boy finds an ah-plane (as Alasdair would say) and crash lands on the moon.  Later that night a Martian also makes an emergency landing on the moon (Alasdair is into emergencies).  And although they are initially nervous of each other, fearing the other is a monster, they figure things out, and help each other find the way back home, or as Alasdair puts it, "This one (the martian) goes to his family, and this one (the boy) goes back to the penguin."  This is just the kind of story I like, almost ordinary, but just a little bit strange or off kilter.  Plain old ordinary just doesn't interest me.

 And speaking of strange and mysterious, here was a real puzzler that Alasdair put to us last evening (sorry to those of you who read Seumas's blog, but my version's a bit different anyway).  Seumas, Alasdair and I were sitting out on the back deck eating yoghurt, when Alasdair walks over to Seumas and asks, "Daddy, are you afraid of eateemores?"  Seumas makes an attempt at guessing what Alasdair is trying to say, fails miserably, and Alasdair gets a bit upset, but with some coaxing, tries again.  "Eateemores."  This time Seumas repeats exactly what Alasdair has said, and Alasdair nods affirmation.  We are both puzzled at this point.  Seumas tells Alasdair that he's not afraid of eateemores, and I ask him to tell us more about eateemores.  He launches into a fantastic tale of a monkey in space, and as he speaks I vaguely recognize a Wonder Pets episode that he mentioned before.  "Meteor" I say.   I've figured it out, but Alasdair looks at me unconvinced and goes on to tell us what a eateemore could do to you.  It'll make your eye pop out in case you're wondering ... be afraid.

The Tale of Benjamin Bunny

This post has been rolling around between my ears for months.  In fact this is not my first attempt at writing it.  Figuring out what story best represents the arrival of Beatrix Abaigeal to our family, and what to say about it, has eluded me.  Well, I can't escape from it, and so I'm going with one of the most remembered authors of my childhood, Beatrix Potter; specifically, The Tale of Benjamin Bunny (we love you cousin Benjamin).  Beatrix Potter is of course the obvious choice, but much like choosing a name for a baby, I was never quite sure.  I mean, the stories are about cute little animals ... bunnies, squirrels, ducks, kittens.  But, they are all a bit creepy, scary even.  Not a big deal if you're reading to an infant, but the three year old has started to ask too many questions.  Good questions.  Questions that are hard to dance around.


For a couple weeks Alasdair was really into reading Lizzie's Lion, a great little rhyming story about a girl and her lion.  Oh, a girl and her lion and a robber that creeps into her bedroom in the middle of the night, right.  Alasdair now asks at the end of the book "What happened to the robber, Mommy?"  My response is "He's in the garbage can", which is true, I just leave out a few details that would be contained in a more complete answer such as: "He's dead, the lion tore him to shreds, and they scraped the pieces off the walls and ceiling and put them in a garbage bag and threw him out with the trash".  But I can tell Alasdair is not quite satisfied with my response.



But you know, I think kids like scary.  Or, Alasdair does anyway.  "There's a monster in your room mommy" or "There's a ghost in the living room" have become a part of our play.  And he says these looking partly scared, but usually with a smile on his face like he's having fun.  Or, as an attempt to get me to go get the toy from the other room for him because he couldn't possibly go in there alone with the creature.



Alasdair likes Fairy Tales and Beatrix Potter stories despite the fear factor, or perhaps because of it.  I know because he retells them and plays them.  It gives his imagination another avenue beyond its two most common themes "Let's go to the store and buy bagels" and "Where's your mommy?"  Besides, he asks you to read them again (but it's againa, not simply again).  So we're going to stick with them for now.  We'll head out on adventures with Benjamin Bunny and Peter Rabbit as they are chased and trapped by Mr. McGregor and his cat.  Our hearts will beat faster and we'll hold our breath and sigh with relief when everything works out okay.  And that sounds just a little bit like bringing a new baby home to meet her big brother.  I have let out my sigh of relief, everything is working out just fine. And we'll get to watch Beatrix and her big brother adventure happily through childhood, just like Peter and Benjamin.

Ceol cridhe

Yesterday while we were out walking Sadie, Alasdair (with some encouragement from Seumas) became quite interested in the trees. Initially he just wanted to touch the bark, but later he walked from tree to tree trying to push the giant creatures over and saying ‘all fall down’.  I don’t know if there was a connection, but the evening previous we had been reading ‘heartsong (ceol cridhe)’, a Cape Breton storybook that Grammie gave to Alasdair during our recent visit.  It tells the story of a man who makes a fiddle to play for his family.  He and his son climb up a hill to a great spruce tree.  Initially they just put their hands on the bark (much the same as Alasdair did), they say they can hear the music through their hands.  Then they cut the tree down to make the fiddle.

I don’t think the book is meant to be sad, but it’s a bit sad to me.  We have just returned from visiting Cape Breton, and although we had a great time, for me, there is a feeling of sadness, and of loss about the island.  It’s as if the island is caught in a strange space between the past and the present, and is haunted by ghosts.  The first time I visited Cape Breton I remember remarking about the numerous graveyards along the roads we traveled.  But it’s not just the people passing on.  We visited some of the elders of Cape Breton, including a great traditional fiddler.  There is certainly a real fear that the culture is also passing on with these folks.

It is also evident that people are not willing to let their culture and traditions disappear into the fog of the past.  Most road signs on the island (like the text in Alasdair’s book) are in both English and Gaelic, for example, Seumas’s hometown appears as both Judique and Siudaig.  Judique also boasts a Celtic Music Interpretive Centre and a Storytellers Gallery.  Astounding for a community of about 700 or so. 

I hope that the language and culture of Cape Breton continues to be passed down from generation to generation, just as the fiddle in Alasdair’s storybook passed from its creator to his children and his children’s children.  And I hope that some of this language and culture crosses the continent and finds Alasdair, Seumas and I in Winnipeg.  I hope that it doesn’t just all fall down. 

Is ‘se sin ceol an Eilein, oran ar dachaidh.  (Trottier, 1997)

He's getting bigger

For quite a while last fall, Alasdair had a real attraction to Little Critter.  It was round about the time when Alasdair, Sheila and I went to Ottawa to visit Denise.  We have a collection of 7 Little Critter stories and sometimes before bed he would sit and listen to the whole collection twice over.  Today I've been thinking about one of the stories in particular - When I Get Bigger.  The story starts out with "When I get bigger I'll be able to do lots of things" and goes on to talk about all of the big boy things that he'll one day be able to do like riding a two-wheeler, having a paper route, helping the little kids on the swings, and picking out his own boots at the shoe store.  I especially love the illustration of Little Critter camped out in his backyard in a tent, with the owl up in the tree and the moon shining behind them.

Most of the activities are things Alasdair can't do by himself yet (picking out the boots excepted).  But it got me to thinking about all of the things he can do now.  Last fall at the playground we would carefully follow him everywhere to make sure he didn't tumble off.  Now we let him climb around on his own.  This evening he very clearly told me that I was to stay on the ground "No mommy, no mommy, no".

He can put some of his boots and shoes on by himself and he can open the front door of the house (uh-oh).  He is also getting to the point where we can explain things to him.   For a while Alasdair was taking Percy to daycare with him everyday.  One day he wanted to bring something different with him, I can't remember what it was, but it had parts that were too small for the younger kids.  I was preparing for a battle to get him to leave it in his locker, but first I explained to him that it would hurt the babies (give them owies).  Surprisingly he repeated "Babies owies" with a very concerned look on his face and put the object in his locker.  This has happened a few times since, including this morning when he walked in with Uncle Greg's green golf ball, said "babies owies" and put it into his locker.

This past Friday was another big boy milestone.  We went to the BDI and Alasdair had his own chocolate ice cream cone.  I worried that he would immediately drop it on the ground and start crying, but my worry was needless.  He held onto that ice cream while we walked across the bridge, down the street a ways, and back across the bridge.  He got quite a few smiles from passers-by as they observed the ice cream all over his face and shirt, and also drew the attention of a small dog who I suppose was interested in getting his share of the ice cream.  Alasdair was interested in the dog as well, but carefully held his cone behind his back as he addressed the dog.


ps.  Thanks for the photos Sheila!

An egg is to break

I was sitting and reading to Alasdair last evening, and our chosen story was A Hole is to Dig.  It is illustrated by Maurice Sendak, and written by Ruth Krauss.  It is a book of definitions, but not adult definitions, more definitions that children would give.  'Hunh! Rugs are so dogs have napkins', 'The sun is to tell you when it is everyday', and 'A floor is so you don't fall in the hole your house is in' are a few of my favourites.  Alasdair likes the 'boodlyboodlyboodly.'

Reading this got me to thinking about how Alasdair sees the world.  For example, I was trying to teach him to look both ways before crossing the street on the way home one day.  We would get to the corner and I would say 'Watch for cars'.  I soon learned that his interpretation of this was to stand on the corner and wait for a car to come along, no matter how long it took, watch it go past and then cross the street.



We went to the new playground at Assiniboine Park yesterday.  What an amazing place!  Alasdair was nervous about the swings, but he enjoyed climbing up to the slide and playing in the sand and water.  He thought that the human-like frogs playing instruments were monsters.  I don't know where he even learned the word monster, but I suppose he's kind of right about those frogs.



Here are some definitions that I think he would give if he could:

A brake is a tool to fix handlebars.
Handlebars are to attach to a seat post.
A small lego plank with wheels is a skateboard.
Dogs (or Sadie in particular) are to torment.

Sidewalk chalk is to graffiti the house.
Pebbles are to pile up on a slide.
Curbs and flower beds are to use as balance beams

.

Once there was a boy and one day he found an Uncle Greg at his door

I love the illustrations in Oliver Jeffers' book Lost and Found, and the story is sweet as well.  It's about a little boy trying to help a penguin find his way home.  As the book begins, the boy finds a penguin on his doorstep.  This past Friday, we (thankfully) didn't find a penguin on our doorstep, but instead Uncle Greg arrived to spend the weekend with us.

In the story, the boy and his penguin have quite an adventure.  Our weekend may not have been quite as adventurous, but we had a lot of fun.  Unlike the boy in the story who tries to figure out how to help the penguin, I tried to come up with some fun things for us to do.  We didn't visit the library to figure out where penguins come from, but we did go to kindermusik, to the Forks for cinnamon buns and to Auntie Betty's for dinner (she had carrot cake for us too!).  We didn't have a rowboat to test for size and strength (at this point in the book, Alasdair used to pretend to hammer on his own head) or to set out in for Antarctica, but we did swim at the Y, and we even got to see an 'iceberg' at the Titanic Exhibition.  Alasdair was pretty impressed with that, and also with the spoons and brushes and bowls that they recovered from the ship.



Our weekend story ended with Auntie Terrie and Uncle Richard joining us for some lunch at the Y and they took Uncle Greg off to greet Nana at the airport.    Instead of giving away the book's ending I'll jump to the back leaf where there is a cute picture of the author as a child.  This picture is an important part of the story for Alasdair and I because when Alasdair said his own name for the first time a few months ago it was because he thought the picture was of himself.