In Case of Fire...

My darling preschooler came home on Monday excited to teach me something:

"Mommy, I know what to do if you catch on fire.

You STOP, ROCK and ROLL."

She even pointed to the picture as she said it.

STOP, ROCK and ROLL.

I'm sure she's not the only four-year-old to say this, but boy, it sure was cute!

Happy Wednesday!

She was Ready

Today was Anna's first day of preschool.

(I have pictures, but they'll have to wait because our main computer is still waaaay down in Chico, CA being repaired.)

Her teachers asked me if I thought she'd have a hard time starting school. They wanted to know if she would cry, if she would cling, if she would pine.

I said I didn't think so.

What I wasn't prepared for was this:

Miss Anna:  Mom, do you have to walk me to the door?

Me: Well, it's your first day. I want to get a picture. I promise, you can walk by yourself tomorrow.

***

Me: (At the door) Bye, Anna! I love you!

Miss Anna: (Without even a glance over her shoulder) See ya, Mom.

The teacher looked at me. I looked at the teacher. She threw up her hands. "All right then!"

I stood outside the door for another moment, for sentimental reasons, and then returned slowly to the car.

Sophie cried all the way home about not being able to go to school with Anna.

"In a few years, honey," I said. "Soon enough...."

And then I spent a blissful, totally quiet afternoon lying in bed, reading my friend's manuscript, writing a query letter for my WiP while Sophie napped.

But the best part of the story is: Anna was ready. And she had a fantastic afternoon in preschool.

"I even wrote hundreds of letters," she told me afterwards. "Because I'm going to learn to write everything."

The Forest Telling Story of Anna Sonnichsen

Parents love it when their children follow in their footsteps. We try not to pressure them into liking the same things we do, but it tickles us when they do. Here's a book written by my daughter Anna, age 4. (I've included the text underneath just in case you can't read my tiny writing. And yes, that's my tiny writing. Please don't analyze it and tell me I'm crazy. I already know I'm crazy.)

The Forest Telling Story of Anna Sonnichsen

 

One day I went in the forest. I met an alligator. It was very evil so I fighted it.

I saw a giraffe and it was fighting the alligator.

I met a guy with a head and thumb. The head and thumb guy got dead.

Then I walked back home and had breakfast.

THE END.

Happy Birthday, Anna!

Yesterday was my sweet Anna's fourth birthday.

We celebrated at Chuck E. Cheese with the aunt and uncle, paternal grandparents, and cousins. 

Fun day. 

Sweet birthday girl.

Here she is in the princess dress my Aunt Sandi made for her:

Happy Birthday, Anna!

Life

I played the Game of Life with my two older daughters today: Olivia, age eight, and Anna, age almost-four.

Olivia was busy. She had to get a second car to fit all her kids. And she was a doctor, which I think was the highest paying salary in the deck. Still, she wanted to keep her money, so she chose the mobile home when it came to picking a house. She's a savvy kid. I have no doubt this game could mirror her life. (Except, maybe, the mobile home part.)

Anna, on the other hand, was playing this game with a three-year-old mentality. When choosing a career, she chose TEACHER because she wanted to be like Daddy. She turned down a higher paying job. She had a car full of kids. It was very important to her that the sexes of her children matched up so she could have a girl row and a boy row.

Most interesting, though, was that Anna wasn't bothered by the ups-and-downs of Life. She was the only one who kept landing on spaces where she had to pay up for this or that. She laid down $5000 for an LCD TV. She paid veterinary bills. And on a teacher's salary, it meant she came in last place when it came to counting up money. She couldn't afford a new house when she had the opportunity to buy one. I counseled her against taking out a loan.

Still, she was not bothered by any of it. When I gave her the option to switch careers (you get that option with this new version of Life), she said she was happy being a teacher like Daddy.

I hope I can go through real life with that same simple gratefulness. Being thankful I have enough money to pay for life's expenses. Not being wrapped up in how many one-hundred-thousand-dollar bills I can accumulate next to the board.

Anna was content with her condo and her car of children. I want to be like that, too.

Montana

What's cooking? It's fajitas tonight!

This morning I took the little girls with me to the post office to mail a package.

ANNA: Why do we need to go to the post office?

ME: Because I need to send my friend in Montana a present for her new baby.

ANNA: (incredulous) What? People in Montana (pronounced "Ontana") don't have babies! They're just kids!

ME: What are you talking about? Of course people in Montana can have babies. They're people just like all of us. There are mommies just like Mommy and babas just like Baba....

ANNA: But they're just kids! I saw it on a show on TV!

ME: Do you mean Hannah Montana?

ANNA: Yeah, Hannah Montana.

Note: Technically watching Hannah Montana is a no-no in our house, since I don't generally buy into shows with themes such as "kids always know better than their parents because parents are idiots." But I have a feeling there's some subversive Hannah Montana watching going on in our house. I have now become vigilant.

Thank you for thinking that Hannah Montana is a show about Montana, Anna. You have done well, my small spy.

Inspiration Thursday

"Mommy, I'm going to be a writer when I grow up!"

Note: The "laptop" on which Anna is typing is of the McDonald's Happy Meal variety -- basically a plastic mini-binder that opens and shuts. Olivia started calling it "her computer" long ago and the identity stuck.

Sign Wars

Olivia had a rough day last week.

I found this posted on her bedroom door:

Anna's response to the insult, posted on her own bedroom door:

Multitasking Preschooler

You remember how it goes. You're three years old. You're playing dress up in a swimsuit and a tu-tu, when suddenly you decide, "I feel like scootering." So you go scootering. Nevermind that it's still technically winter.

Mommy: Anna, do you want your coat?

Anna: No, I'm fine!

Celebrity Children

Anna and Sophie got their two seconds in the spotlight last night. They actually made it onto our local news after dancing out on the court during half-time of a Prosser Mustangs basketball game.



Yes, if you're wondering, they take after their mother.

Rockin' Out

I went to a concert last night. It's been a long time since I've been to a concert, especially one this totally rockin'.

This particular band is new on the music scene, but I think they have a ton of potential. Watch the clip below and see if you agree with me.

The lead singer kind of has a U2 charisma that, in my opinion, could easily rival Bono. I was really impressed with the guitarist's instrument, fashioned out of Kinex. His bum-wiggle sort of reminded me of Slash, without the long curly hair, of course, or the cigarette. And the drummer's drum set is very state-of-the-art. Totally unique, cutting edge stuff here. Talent oozing out everywhere.

There's still some division in the group about what their name should be. One member, who shall remain unnamed, said it should be called "Olivia's *something* Trio" -- I guess because she hasn't thought of what that middle word should be. Another member, also anonymous, thinks the name should be "Anna's studio." The third member doesn't seem to have an opinion.

I'll keep you posted on this band's development. They're working on some new songs. One I heard this morning went something like this:

Sister love is a very good thing. Sister love. Sister love is a very good thing. Sister love.

Another song (more like a rap, actually), goes like this:

I want a Wii, I want a PSP, I want a XBox 360. Huh!

And on that note, I'll leave you.

I Ask Myself....

...why do I spend money on toys for my children when packing bubbles entertain them just as well?

Nutty for Nutcracker

Believe it or not, Christmas is in the air already here in Prosser.

This year, we had a first for our family: Anna wanted to be in the Nutcracker, performed by our very own Prosser School of Ballet. We went to her performances this weekend.
She auditioned a couple months ago and got the part of a Little Mouse. Of course, as a completely unbiased mother, I have to tell you, she was the cutest little mouse you ever saw.
If you haven't spent much time with Anna, you may not know that she spends most of her day singing and dancing ... and flipping around the living room doing all the moves she learned in gymnastics. When I mentioned auditioning for the Nutcracker originally, she was instantly interested. At the audition she sat wide-eyed, silent, and attentive. When it was her turn, she gave it her absolute best. She remained focused at every rehearsal (for little mice there were only two regular rehearsals and two dress rehearsals) and for both her performances. I never knew a three-year-old could have an attention span like that.
I expected her to get burned out, to get bored of practicing and performing. One night I went to pick her up around nine o'clock from practice. "No, I can't leave yet," Anna told me. "I have to practice one more time!"

Needless to say, when I asked her if she'd like to start ballet classes, she was over-the-moon with the idea. She'll probably get started after Christmas. Next year, if she's still as interested, she might be able to expand her Nutcracker repertoire to include a lollipop or a ginger girl or, her ultimate goal (don't ask me why!), a soldier.

We'll see how it goes.

I'm trying not to be a stage Mom, but I did have fun putting glitter on her face and watching her practice.

Maybe I need to sign up for adult ballet classes so I'm not tempted to live vicariously through my munchkin ballerina daughter.

(By the way, notice the flowers Anna is holding in the last two pictures. Her very-proud daddy gave them to her after the show. She was tickled.)

Firsts: The Pumpkin Patch

(Anna's overly-sensitive sniffer was greatly offended by the smells at the pumpkin patch. She spent most of her visit plugging her nose -- even through the hay maze.)

A couple weeks ago, Anna, Sophie and I went to the pumpkin patch with Gabe's kindergarten class. Confession: I'd never been to a pumpkin patch before.

I'd never taken a hay ride.

I'd never wandered through a corn maze.

Don't feel sorry for me. That's just part of the trade-off of growing up overseas. Instead of going to the pumpkin patch as a kid, I celebrated Octobers by burning my fingers on candle wax and cavorting in the light of the full-moon carrying a fancy paper lantern during Mid-Autumn Festival.

I was not deprived.

Still, I was excited about our first trip to the pumpkin patch.

Here's Gabe's kindergarten class. (Gabe's the kid in the blue hat, front row.) Miss Skyles is his teacher. Hint: She's the grown-up in the picture.

Here's Gabe roasting a marshmallow -- and Anna wishing she were in kindergarten so she could roast a marshmallow. "Don't worry, honey. Your time will come ... soon enough."

And below are the kids on the hay slides.

Anna

Gabe
Sophie
And of course you can't leave the pumpkin patch without a pumpkin. Here's Anna with hers: "It's just my size!"

Quiet Time

After two hours in Target, we drove home on the freeway. I had my worship CD blasting and I was singing at the top of my lungs.

"Mommy!" Anna yelled from her car seat. "Turn off the music!"

"Ask me nicely, please," I said.

"Mommy, please turn off the music," Anna said.

I turned off the music.

"Is that better?" I asked.

"Yes."

We continued down the freeway. I didn't even realize I was still singing to myself.

"Mommy!" Anna yelled. "BE QUIET!"

"Anna, ask me nicely."

"Mommy, please be quiet."

"But honey," I said, "I need to sing. I just have a song in my heart."

"But Mommy," Anna replied. "I just have sleep in my heart."

A Summer In Pictures

My crazy kids with their 2nd cousins, Alaythia and Isaiah.

Swing high, swing low, away we go!

Bathing beauties enjoying poolside popsicles:
cousins Grace, Anna, Olivia, & Abby

Gabe poolside

Aaron, Grandma Nai Nai, Great-Grandma Helen, & Sophie

Learning to plant seeds with Nai Nai

At Horsetail falls (on our 10th anniversary) where Aaron asked me to marry him almost eleven years ago.

On Dog Mountain
(some day I'll be embarrassed my glasses were that big)

Sophie's swimming attire

Anna navigating the Columbia with Uncle Garry

Fun in the new minivan (see Sophie's feet?)

Sophie's first time sitting in the grass;
she didn't mind.

Tags

If you see my daughter Anna, age three, walking around with her thumb in her mouth and her other hand down the back of her pants, you might think, "That's gross." I don't blame you. She has a very weird habit.

But it's not as gross a habit as it may seem. Really, she just has a fascination with tags.

Yes. Tags.

Those things that stick out on the inside of your clothes, telling you the brand name and sometimes giving you washing instructions.

Anna likes to hold on to tags. Thumb in her mouth, other hand holding onto whatever tag is available: the one on her shirt, the one on her pants, the one on her underpants. Heck, even the tag on my shirt or Sophie's shirt will do. She's not too picky, as long as she's got a good grip on it.

Sometimes we're in the car and Anna will throw a screaming fit, all because, "I! Can't! Reach! My! Tag!" Her words are garbled because she doesn't take her thumb out of her mouth as she's screaming.

The other day I picked out a cute shirt for her to wear that she hadn't worn in a long time. "I don't want to wear that one," she said. "It doesn't have a tag."

Sure enough. The clothing designer, assuming tags bother most children, had printed the information on the inside of the shirt.

So, I picked out a new shirt. "Look, this one has a nice tag on it."

Anna smiled and was happy. I've learned that if I want her to wear a tagless shirt, I have to pick shorts with a very big tag so that she has something to hold on to.

Now it's your turn. I'd love you to tell me about a weird habit you know about. It can be your child's, your own, your mother's aunt's grandson's friend's.... Just help me out by letting me know my little Anna isn't the only one in the world with a weird habit.

All About Anna

Three years ago today, Aaron and I were heading to the Beijing hospital on a bus to have our little Anna.

And she was little! Six and a half pounds.

Being little hasn't slowed Anna down at all. She crawled at six months. Walked at ten months. Can climb up on virtually anything in our house as long as she can get a toe-hold. (We're enrolling her in gymnastics immediately upon our arrival in the United States.)

Even now that she's three, she's still little. Since she dresses herself, I often find her walking around the house in Sophie's clothes. They weigh almost the same. I think Anna just has longer legs and arms. My sister fondly calls her our primordial dwarf.

This morning she held out her arms and looked down at herself, her face flushed with disappointment. "Mommy, I'm still not big! I'm still little!"

Now she's sitting next to me on the couch while I type this entry, sucking her thumb (I guess three-year-olds still do that) and holding onto the tag of my shirt with her other hand (Anna's unique weird habit) and begging me to write: "Lucy loves me," because Lucy is her best friend.
"Please, Mommy! Please, Mommy! Type 'Lucy loves me.'"

The other day, Gabe had his friend Jackson over and I sent them outside to run around. There's a big triangle-shaped planter below our bedroom window; it's a great place for the kids to go when they're getting too feisty for the house.

"I want to go too!" Anna cried, so I let her. Maybe against my better judgment.

I stood at the window and watched them all. The boys had their light sabers and were busy fighting. Anna was wandering around with an extra light saber, off in her own little world.

A man came up to her. He had a camera. He squatted down next to Anna, asking if he could take her picture. Anna reached into the planter and started throwing dirt and torn-up grass at him. The man eventually gave up and left.

Then Anna disappeared behind one of the corners of the planter and I couldn't see her.

"Gabe, where's Anna?" I called from the window.

"She's back here," Gabe said, pointing, and went back to his light saber duel.

A few moments later I saw Anna. She was standing, with no shoes on, with her dress pulled up around her waist -- and no underwear.

"Anna!" I hollered. "What're you doing?"

I heard her scrawny voice: "I went poo poo!"

Thankfully Aaron had just come home, so I grabbed a handful of tissues and clamored down the stairs and around the back to the triangle planter.

The boys were already congregating around the outdoor toilet, grinning. Anna was still standing there with her dress hiked up and her shoes off. Most of the poop looked like rabbit pellets, but there was one enormous turd, too.

I took a deep breath, wiped her bottom, and gathered up the poops as best I could in the tissues. It was probably a lot like cleaning up after your dog.

And that's how Anna lost her privilege of going outside to play with the big boys.

To understand the context completely, though, you have to realize that pooping outside works in China. Honestly, my foreign friends and I are the only ones who would care that my daughter just pooped on the sidewalk. Our Chinese friends wouldn't give it a second thought. Their kids pee and poop wherever they feel like it: at the foot of a playground slide, in the aisle of a crowded train, down the front steps of a shop. Hey, when the kid needs to go, they go!

This is an adjustment my now three year old is going to have to make when we move. A whole new world, with all new rules.

And, Grandma Nai Nai, if your garden experiences an unsurpassed amount of growth this summer while we're staying with you, we may be able to guess the reason why.

(Happy Birthday, my sweet, incorrigible Anna!)

Gum Head

Yeah, we had to cut the gum out. Instant bangs.

On the way to the bathroom to cut her hair, Anna wailed,

"But I won't look like a girl anymore!"

One of the Risks of Living Overseas 2

"Anna, eat your squash or there will be no chicken head for dessert."