Some moments are just so amazing. There is nothing more wonderful than watching Liana learn and figure things out. We just got back from a shopping expedition, and mom is exhausted. I tossed Liana in that space between the couch and the wooden chest so that she can pull herself up and play with toys on the chest and walk sideways and whatnot. It was hot outside, so I threw a bottle of cantaloupe juice on the chest, assuming she would help herself when she was thirsty. I then went to wash the milk bottle and put away the groceries and whatnot, and Liana was playing with the juice bottle, putting her plastic teacup on top of it like a lid. She really likes lids and containers of all sorts. Well clearly she was not satisfied with the teacup as a lid, so she got down on her hands and knees and crawled into the bedroom and started digging around in the big plastic basket that houses all of her toys. I mean all of her toys that are not on the floor, the wooden chest, or the bed at any given moment. (Mom is not the best housekeeper, as those of you how know me, are already aware of.) Well after digging for quite a while, she managed to find, of all things, the proper cap to her bottle! So she crawled back to the wooden chest, removed the teacup, and put the proper lid on the bottle.
She is also fascinated with belts and harnesses. You know, the sort that I am always fussing with in her stroller or her high chair. If I just toss her into her stroller to take her into the bathroom with me for a second, without fastening the stroller belt, she tries to fasten it herself. And sometimes she manages to get it fastened, too! Not, of course, threaded through the thing between her legs, which is meant to keep her from falling out. She does not quite understand WHY it needs to be fastened. But she understands that it should be fastened. In the long run, of course, I will teach her that “the whys” are always more important than “the becauses.” Oh my what exciting lessons those will be. A completely different kind of problem solving!
Oddly, she really knows how to bluff. I noticed it first weeks ago, when we were having dinner with a couple of other adoptive families, adults and kids all sitting around the table. When an adult said something funny, that made everyone laugh, she would laugh too, in earnest, as if she had indeed understood the joke. When I squat down to her eye level, and explain something complex like “Mommy needs to wash her hands and empty the garbage and wash out your bottle and pack up before we can go out, ok?,” she gazes solemnly into my eyes and nods, pretending to understand. Sometimes that nod means she really does understand. Like when I toss her in her stroller and take her into the bathroom while I take a shower. Before I get in, I explain that I am going to close the curtain, but that I am going to be on the other side. I point to the curtain, and open and close it a few times. She gives me that solemn nod. Then I get in, and close the curtain. I then open it again to show that I am on the other side, and this time she grins widely as she nods, proud of the fact that she indeed understands what is going on, and also, still, a little relieved that I really am behind the curtain. Every couple of minutes (or less) she makes a nervous vocalization, and I open the curtain and she smiles, happy that I am still there. Towards the end of the shower the whole process of waiting has become quite difficult. I open the shower curtain and show her that I am pouring conditioner into my hand. I tell her that I am doing it, and she nods. Then I rub it into my hair, and she nods, sometimes touching her own hair at the same time. The 60 seconds the conditioner is supposed to just sit there, however, is a painful time, lacking in activity and already way way past her level of patience waiting for this shower thing to be over. I’ve tried taking advantage of this time to bring her into the bath with me, putting her in the baby tub, but inevitably that turns into screaming and flailing, and with both of us wet and soapy and slippery, I’ve decided it is not the best routine to try to develop.
She is also fascinated with belts and harnesses. You know, the sort that I am always fussing with in her stroller or her high chair. If I just toss her into her stroller to take her into the bathroom with me for a second, without fastening the stroller belt, she tries to fasten it herself. And sometimes she manages to get it fastened, too! Not, of course, threaded through the thing between her legs, which is meant to keep her from falling out. She does not quite understand WHY it needs to be fastened. But she understands that it should be fastened. In the long run, of course, I will teach her that “the whys” are always more important than “the becauses.” Oh my what exciting lessons those will be. A completely different kind of problem solving!
Oddly, she really knows how to bluff. I noticed it first weeks ago, when we were having dinner with a couple of other adoptive families, adults and kids all sitting around the table. When an adult said something funny, that made everyone laugh, she would laugh too, in earnest, as if she had indeed understood the joke. When I squat down to her eye level, and explain something complex like “Mommy needs to wash her hands and empty the garbage and wash out your bottle and pack up before we can go out, ok?,” she gazes solemnly into my eyes and nods, pretending to understand. Sometimes that nod means she really does understand. Like when I toss her in her stroller and take her into the bathroom while I take a shower. Before I get in, I explain that I am going to close the curtain, but that I am going to be on the other side. I point to the curtain, and open and close it a few times. She gives me that solemn nod. Then I get in, and close the curtain. I then open it again to show that I am on the other side, and this time she grins widely as she nods, proud of the fact that she indeed understands what is going on, and also, still, a little relieved that I really am behind the curtain. Every couple of minutes (or less) she makes a nervous vocalization, and I open the curtain and she smiles, happy that I am still there. Towards the end of the shower the whole process of waiting has become quite difficult. I open the shower curtain and show her that I am pouring conditioner into my hand. I tell her that I am doing it, and she nods. Then I rub it into my hair, and she nods, sometimes touching her own hair at the same time. The 60 seconds the conditioner is supposed to just sit there, however, is a painful time, lacking in activity and already way way past her level of patience waiting for this shower thing to be over. I’ve tried taking advantage of this time to bring her into the bath with me, putting her in the baby tub, but inevitably that turns into screaming and flailing, and with both of us wet and soapy and slippery, I’ve decided it is not the best routine to try to develop.
Oh, so much to learn together. Life is good.
