iBeth

An Automatic Please

Waking Amelia this morning, I lifted her out of bed and held her hands as she stretched up to greet the day.

"Whoa, look how tall you are!" I said.  "Remember when you were just a tiny baby?  Now you can reach this high!" 

She beamed.

"We should measure you on your growth chart! Let's do that tonight; let's measure you.  What do you say?"

"Please" Amelia said, as she ran to get dressed.

Elephant Love

I was stuck for what to give a good friend for her 60th birthday, until I read the NYT Magazine article "An Elephant Crackup?"  The article makes clear that extinction is not the only horror that humans can inflict on our fellow creatures:

[I]n ‘‘Elephant Breakdown,’’ a 2005 essay in the journal Nature, Bradshaw and several colleagues argued that today’s elephant populations are suffering from a form of chronic stress, a kind of species-wide trauma. Decades of poaching and culling and habitat loss, they claim, have so disrupted the intricate web of familial and societal relations by which young elephants have traditionally been raised in the wild, and by which established elephant herds are governed, that what we are now witnessing is nothing less than a precipitous collapse of elephant culture.

It has long been apparent that every large, land-based animal on this planet is ultimately fighting a losing battle with humankind. And yet entirely befitting of an animal with such a highly developed sensibility, a deep-rooted sense of family and, yes, such a good long-term memory, the elephant is not going out quietly. It is not leaving without making some kind of statement, one to which scientists from a variety of disciplines, including human psychology, are now beginning to pay close attention.

Read the article, and you will never want to see an elephant in a zoo ever again.  (Warning--you'll also be sickened by the stories about Uganda's civil war.)

I remember meeting a guy in college whose family owned a small roadside zoo, complete with elephants.  They shaved the elephants' bristles with blowtorches, he told me, or the elephants would have been too prickly for people to ride.  At the time, I thought the whole concept was intriguing, in a sort of wacky, John Irving-esque way.  Now, it just makes me want to vomit.

Because my birthday celebrating friend loves animals, elephants in particular, I decided to donate in my friend's name to both the elephant rescue organizations named in that article: the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust in Africa, and the Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee. 

Emma and Amelia contributed pictures of elephants (Emma made hers into a card).  Unless they travel to Africa, I hope pictures are as close as they get to real elephants.

Can Thingie Mystery Solved

Ah . . . Emma's teacher wants to use these things (loops? tops? tabs?) for teaching math.  Neat idea.

Emma spots a silver lining

The latest wasp sting has caused that wrist and forearm to redden and swell (and itch like you wouldn't believe aaugh).  When Emma saw it this morning, she consoled me, "Now it will be even easier to tell your left from your right!"

Elastigirl Helps Out

Well, the wasps have scored again.  I was pulling some weeds while the girls played hopscotch on the driveway, and I noticed that the wasps nest that stung me last time had come back to life.  That sting is still red and irritated, so I made sure to give the nest a wide berth. 

But wasps are nesting everywhere, apparently, because I got stung again!  This time the sting was on the inside of my wrist, ow.  I stormed inside and my husband gave me painkiller + antihistamine, helped me clean & disinfect the sting, etc. 

Later, I realized I was sporting an Elastigirl bandaid.  Since I'd spent the day multitasking while supervising a houseful of rambunctious girls, I smiled and said, "That's kind of a nice coincidence, isn't it?"

"It's not a coincidence," my husband told me.  "I gave you Elastigirl on purpose."  And he hugged me. 

Now I know why kids like those superhero bandaids so much.

Portrait of Daddy

Oh my goodness, this picture is so darling I can hardly stand it.  Amelia explains that this is a picture of daddy.

You notice she is drawing those wonderful chicken hands and feet . . . she hasn't graduated to necks and bodies yet.  (And I am content; I am in NO hurry for her to grow up, or her sister.)

Emma practices "Code Red"

I was very sad when Emma told me that her class practiced "Code Red" in school today.  A "Code Red is when a bad guy is in the hallway," she told me.  "They make an announcement in the school of Code Red, and then we hide under the tables near the wall where the bad guy can't see us." 

"Mmmmm," I managed, trying to convey a calm response as though that sort of drill were a perfectly  normal part of childhood.  When it is absolutely NOT NORMAL for my child to have to freaking PRACTICE hiding from freaking "BAD GUYS"!  What kind of a world are we giving to our children?  Remember when even "monster spray" was controversial?

I was even sadder when I had to acknowledge that such drills are necessary. (And don't follow that link unless you want to be extremely depressed.)

Amelia draws an abstraction

Who has seen the wind?  Neither you nor I.  But Amelia can draw a pretty good rendition of it.

(After looking through my blog for earlier examples of children's art, I think I should make children's art its own category.  I've certainly posted enough of it.  One of these days, I'll go back and re-label old posts, but for now, you can find some good links here and here).