What You Can Learn from a Toddler’s Vocabulary List

So, my daughter’s preschool had parent-teacher conferences the other night, and the subject of discussion about our daughter with her teachers was her upcoming move to the 3-year-old classroom. In many ways it’s an exciting event that needs to happen; in others I dread it because my daughter has so enjoyed her year in the two’s classroom.

Her teacher had a list of recommended milestones in speech and language development. The two-and-a-half to three-year-old should have a vocabulary of approximately 500 intelligible words that she uses routinely.

My daughter’s teacher pointed out that milestone to my husband and me. “Now, of course, I’ll need to see that list of words.” She teased.

“Including the Swedish and Chinese?” my husband asked. (We give as good as we get.)

Ode to a Cup of Tea

Oh, what wonderful relief!
A witches’ brew steeped stealthily in the wee hours of the morning
Slippery elm, rose hip, cinnamon bark and licorice root
Water heated in a pot over an eerie orange glow that lights the
Early morning and warms the chill
As the wind howls outside in these still moon-lit hours
Accompanied by the ominous implosion of my eardrums
Each time I swallow

Oh the relief as the hot liquid and honey
Slide down the back of my raw throat
Relief, as the steam soothes my chapped nose
And I breathe, if but for a moment

Ah Choo!

© 2009 Michele Arduengo. All rights reserved.

Learning to Knit Words.

For years I have knitted words to create sentences that roll off the tongue in a comfortable rhythm, words that flow to create meaning. Each sentence is looped together with the next using a limited number of techniques (transitional phrases, repeated words, etc.) to create an unlimited number of patterns and finished pieces.

Now I am learning how to knit yarn to create larger pieces that roll of my knitting needle with a rhythm (sort of) to create something of meaning: a hat, a scarf. My first project is a scarf and hat for Floppy Dog, my daughter’s most valued and trusted friend. While my knitting needles clack together, my mind wanders to the people who have helped me develop my word-knitting skills.

Bewitching Halloween Memories

My mom’s birthday was on October 30th, and throughout her life she was always making allusions to being a “witch”. Her first “gift” witch was one that hung from the IV pole in her hospital room after her hysterectomy, after that, we were constantly presenting her with little witches as “thinking of you” gifts.

One of the funniest witch events though involved a broom. My dad would often snatch the closest broom at hand whenever he wanted to sweep up something in the garage. Often the closest broom at hand was the “good” broom my mom used for the kitchen. After one or two uses in the garage though, the broom would be rendered “too dirty” for sweeping in the house and would join the collection of garage brooms in the far corner of the garage.

So one day, after my dad had swiped yet another kitchen broom, my mom went to the store, bought a new broom and a thick-tipped, black sharpie marker with which she labeled the broom “Joy’s broom.”

She showed the broom to my Dad. “See. It’s labeled. Joy’s broom. Do NOT use it in the garage.”

The next day she came into the kitchen and picked up the broom to sweep.

My dad taken the sharpie and added: “Not to exceed 10,000 feet AGL* or 200 MPH.”

*AGL = Above Ground Level

A Wisconsin-Hardy Tinkerbell

When I was a little girl, I loved dressing up for Halloween, but inevitably the weather would turn cold October 31, and my mom would make me wear a coat over my Halloween costume. I hated that.

I couldn’t figure out how anyone was supposed to see my costume if I had to wear a coat over it. “What was the purpose of even having a costume?” I would whine.

So, as a Mom I am conflicted. In Wisconsin, it is always cold on Halloween, and I do not want my little girl to get frostbite when we take her door-to-door to greet our neighbors. However, I do understand that it isn’t much fun to wear a costume if no one can see it because your mother dressed you for life in the frozen tundra before you went out trick-or-treating.