Playing

I was listening to the radio the other night, and there was an item about a new "pensioner playground" which has opened up in Britain. Essentially, it's a little outdoor exercise area designed for older folks. The equipment is focused on improving strength and balance, pitched at the pensioner level, with the aim of having maximum fun.

I've always thought that adult playgrounds were a fine idea. Imagine what we have currently, provided free of charge to all, but on a scale for adults!

But I tell you what - there is no need for adult playgrounds. Last night I was following Isabelle around one of our local children's playgrounds dressed rather unwisely in jandals and a wraparound skirt. Believe me, I had all the challenge I required keeping up with her! Within 10 minutes my upper body was exhausted (there was no way that I was going to do the monkey bars successfully again). And my heart was most definitely beating a little bit faster as I negotiated the high bridges (it never looks so high up from the ground!). Isabelle skipped on ahead of me, confident and happy, and just kept going and going and going and going...

Earlier in the day at a different playground, Aidan scaled a bridge, swung over the top, let go with one arm, then dropped to the ground with ease. He dropped more than his height. "Gosh, that's quite agile really" commented another parent. I guess it was. I was not concerned at all, knowing that Aidan is agile, co-ordinated and has good gross motor skills generally. He has a reasonable understanding of where his limits are. But when I think about me doing the equivalent.....

Last night Orla was paddling away on her ride-on across the netball courts, already determined to try and keep up with her older siblings. Isabelle whizzed around on her scooter, while Aidan zoomed on his motorbike.

So, playgrounds for adults? I think that either "child" or "pensioner" challenges will work fine for me!!

Spectacular gymnastic feats

My favourite quote from the internet this week is by Stacie, from a breastfeeding website. I guess she is American, given that she has used the word "nursing". Nursing always makes me thing of women in white uniforms taking my temperature. Anyway....

Nursing a baby is cuddling with the sweetest person in the world. Nursing a toddler is being attacked by a crazed acrobat.

Hehehe

The things they say....

Public conversation number one:

Supermarket checkout operator: And what is your name?
Aidan: Aidan.

Aidan to me loudly: Is that a man or a woman?

(Skip forward to later discussion where I say that, if it is important to him to know someone's gender and he's not sure, to ask me quietly. He was a man, by the way).

Public conversation number two. Sitting on a bus:

Me (pointing out things of interest): And look, there's a person walking down the street. Hello!
Aidan loudly: Hello fat person!

(Cue short conversation where I talk about how it is not polite to comment publicly on a person's body shape, even if what you are saying is an objective fact and you merely mean it as an objective statement).

Matiu/Somes Island

Yesterday we made it out to Matiu/Somes Island. I've never been there before.

After a mad dash in the car we made it onto the ferry in time. The ferry trip was a real highlight for the children. The island itself was slightly less successful for them - they got hot, tired and whiny within a few minutes of making landfall.

"When are we going back on the boat?"
"When is the boat coming?"
"When will we get on the boat?"
"Where is the boat?"
"Is this where we get the boat from?"
"How far till we get to the boat?"

Fortunately, while there was dragging of feet, there was no hand-to-hand combat, and things perked up immeasurably once we got back onto the water. There was bouncing on the waves, things to see, new and exciting toilets to visit.

I liked the island.

I was amused by the compulsory lecture on the island and its history that the DoC officer took the opportunity to give us in the Whare Kiore after we had checked our bags for stowaway rodents.
I enjoyed the number of skinks scuttling across our path and the number of kakariki in the bush.
The perspective that we got of the planes taking off from the airport was intriguing. They looked as if they were going up like rockets, vertically into the clouds before veering off on another trajectory.
The view back across the harbour was great.

I would like to go back, maybe to stay the night (as many people seemed to be doing).

Might wait a couple of years though!

Not quite what I had in mind

"Actually I'm quite keen to get going"
"Oh?"
"Yes, it's the only social event I've been to all year!"
"That's not right"
"Children's birthday parties don't count!"
"But what about Playcentre clean up?"

A is for Aidan

Aidan has started to write and draw representational pictures. First I found this: he proudly said it was an A for Aidan.

While I was not so impressed with his choice of canvas (his bedroom floor) this is the first time that I have seen him write an A.

Soon afterwards he started drawing a picture. He started saying O is for Orla, and drew two Os.




Soon he had completed a self portrait.





On the far left we have railway lines. Then Aidan "very tall", with a big long body, arms outstretched, two legs at the bottom and a head and face at the top. As he drew he said "eyes, nose, mouth, clothes", filling in the details as he saw fit.

There are three Os for Orla to Aidan's right. And the dots are "footsteps that Jack and I made as we run around the house".

Anniversary

Tomorrow is our eighth wedding anniversary, so we decided to have a look on the internet to see what the traditional and modern gifts were.

Apparently for traditional it is bronze, pottery or rubber, and linen or lace for modern.

Sadly, I informed Brendon today that I had failed to commission a bronze statue of him for the garden in time. I thought of a number of humorous but thoroughly inappropriate rubber gifts. And I'll be the one wearing the lace around here.

I could make him a clay sculpture at Playcentre tomorrow. Linen hanky?

A couple of websites had very extensive lists, including the apparently ever-optimistic gift for one's 100th wedding anniversary - a 10 carat diamond, naturally.

Berry hunt

Last weekend we had our annual blueberry hunt in Upper Hutt. There weren't many berries there yet, but we managed to get a small paper bag full. The children enjoyed the picking. On the way back we checked out the swimming hole. Aidan loved throwing stones into the deep water. He particularly liked throwing multiple small stones at ones - disconnecting, scattering, trajectories again!

The highlight, however, was the much anticipated icecream at the end (plus a snack for all from the Mexican cafe that operates next to the blueberry shop).

Eclipse!

OK, so you can't really see what is going on in this photo, but what it shows is Orla trying to get in on the action as I project an image of a solar eclipse onto a piece of paper for Isabelle and Aidan. If you look really closely you can see the little circle (or partial circle!) of light on the paper across from Orla's hand.

The annular eclipse on Thursday was cool - you could see quite clearly a bite out of the sun's image. From Wellington it looked like about 45% of the sun was covered. The temperature dropped, and the light went a bit tepid at the peak of the eclipse.

The children buzzed around happily playing as I popped over to the deck every 10 minutes or so to track the eclipse's progress. Both were interested to a point - but I was definitely the most excited! For not the first time, I really wished I had a globe. A light, my fist and Brendon's sun hat are just not good astronomical models.

Creative and technical

We have been to Te Papa twice recently. The first time was with the cuzzies and resulted in a whale origami pack (referred to in an earlier post below!). The second time, Isabelle and I went to the Whales exhibition together.

The origami pack resulted in an interesting discussion with Isabelle about the difference between what I called technical skills and creative skills. First, we did the origami whale together. This involved following instructions exactly, copying an adult model, precise fine motor skills, spatial relationships and doing something with a tightly defined goal in mind. I explained to Isabelle that yes, she could fold it her own way, but the consequence would be that her origami whale would not look like the one in the picture. We were practicing technical skills.

Origami whales complete, Isabelle went off by herself and came back with what I photographed. I said to her that what she had done was more of an example of creative skills. She had thought about what she wanted to do by herself. She had thought about how she could achieve it using the resources available. She experimented and produced a spouting whale swimming in the sea.

Categories are rarely black and white - and neither are these! But I think this went a bit towards explaining to Isabelle why, despite plenty of worksheets and colouring-in, I complain that she doesn't get to do much art at school!

It's good to have access to all these skills. I was proud of the way she was able to make a whale according to the origami instructions - and I was equally proud of what happened next.

Growing forward

Here's a photo of Orla taken not so long ago on her ride-on.

Orla got her ride-on for her birthday. It is one of her favourite toys. Although she was not physically able to ride it when she received the gift, she took to it immediately. She knew exactly what it was for and decisively claimed it for her own. (This was helped no doubt by repeated, excited viewings of Aidan zooming past her on his identically-coloured motorbike). Very soon after, she was able to sit on it herself. Then she rocked to and fro. Now she can propel herself forward (although she hasn't really got the hang of steering yet, so she tends to head for the wall/couch/chair and get stuck). In the last day she has been able to clamber on by herself if the ride-on is steadied by a hand or if it is propped up against a wall.

Children appear to have a built-in drive to develop, grow and learn. For me it is a wonder to watch! They are natural experimenters and explorers. They are never content to stay in one zone - once sitting, there is a drive to be mobile, once crawling an unyielding urge to stand and walk. They want to know how things work, how this relates to that, and they pursue their goals with a singular sense of purpose.

Today Orla stood unaided. Just for a moment. But she stood nevertheless! It was purposeful and I watched the expression on her face as she realised her position. Satisfaction. Wonder. Acknowledgment that something different was happening. Momentary concern. Instability. A hand reached out to reclaim a supported stance.

I guess that one of our jobs as first teachers is to nurture this drive. It gets more difficult to maintain this natural momentum in the longer term. For Isabelle and Aidan, it is more intellectual and social, about answering the whys and engaging in conversation when it would be far easier to just say "Because" or "I'm busy right now". It gets harder too when they are heading in three different directions simultaneously, all demanding a different kind of attention or support.

But it is such a pleasure to be there when they achieve their goals. And such a privilege to facilitate this.

Shower origami

Children just have different priorities from adults, and a different sense of the interaction between the practical and the possible.

For example, this morning Aidan wanted me to make him an origami whale. A reasonable request, given that I had made him one previously - and he even had suitable paper. The fact that I was taking a shower right at that moment did not trouble him at all.

I explained that actually I was a bit busy right now, and furthermore, doing origami in the shower was not likely to lead to a durable product. I said though that I would be happy to make him one when I had finished showering. Quickly, I added that "finished showering" included getting out of the shower, getting dry and dressed, and applying moisturizer and deodorant.

He accepted this, but I could tell he was unconvinced that I wasn't just stalling.

Sticks

Aidan walks back through the botanic gardens. He brandishes a stick.

I notice older men looking keenly at him, smiling with an unusual but benevolent intensity.

I think it's something to do with the stick. Memories of boyhood and sticks past. Stick fights, sticks in holes, sticks dipped in water, sticks as fishing rods, guns, swords, sticks poking sisters.