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Four Year Check-Up

Jan 6th, 2011 by

Four years and six weeks if you want to get technical on me. And please don’t. I felt guilty enough.  The primary causes of procrastination were: (1) not wanting to disrupt school or nap time; and (2) dreading the shots that accompany this visit. With babies, you don’t have to tell them before, and they don’t remember after. With a four-year-old, you have to prepare them and deal with the fact that they will likely cry and say things like “stop!” when you have more shots to go. I really, really hate needles.

Turns out, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, parts were pretty cool. This was certainly a “big boy” trip more than any other. It began with a hearing test. A pretty young nurse came out and called for Simon to follow her to “play a fun game and test your ears.” Simon has never been away from me at the doctor, but he does love a (pretty) young face, so he followed her with little hesitation. About 10-15 minutes later, he trotted back to the waiting area beaming and talking a mile a minute about “the fun game with the ear and the balls” and how he “put a ball in the ear when he heard a noise, and then took it out when it stopped.”

The results: Better than perfect hearing. Also above normal attention span; he did part of the test they don’t usually do for kids his age. This hearing result might just explain some of his extreme reactions to loud noises a year or so ago.

Next up, he walked down the hall to a nurse’s station to be measured and weighed. This was also new; we usually do weighing and measuring in the examining room.

  • Height: 41 inches, 75th percentile. Mamma genes happily quashed for now.
  • Weight: 37 lbs. (Less if you subtract for the jeans, I helpfully pointed out to the nurse. It’s hard to break the habit of always trying to round down…) 46th percentile. He’s filling out nicely.

Once in the examining room, they strapped on a blood pressure cuff. Also a first. The sight of the big black cuff on a tiny preschool arm made me laugh. His blood pressure is 90/52. I’ll trade with him when I’m 50 and my bad blood pressure genes kick in.

Then Dr. Abrams came in to look him over and ask him all sorts of questions. He drew an “O” for her, struggled a bit to make a “T” or cross (common for lefties, I was told), assured her that he always sat in his booster seat, and then lied through his teeth when asked about eating vegetables. The bad news: He doesn’t eat them. The good news:  He’s smart enough to figure out what the doctor wanted to hear and tell a convincing whopper. He also counted to ten (offering to do so in Spanish, too) and jabbered happily about school and his friend Baron.

But the real eyeball popper came when Dr. Abrams told Simon she needed to look inside his underwear for a minute. Just after she said that, a nurse interrupted the exam with a quick question. While Dr. Abrams stuck her head out the door, Simon looked at me and asked:

“Why does she want to look at my package?”

I blame Matt for that. Thank goodness Dr. Abrams didn’t hear!

Then we waited a bit longer, read some stories, and finally got four jabs on the arms. It was sucky, as expected. But once we got home and had a treat, it was put behind him if not entirely forgotten.

I am, as always after such visits, grateful to have access to such skilled and caring professionals.

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy, Simon says... | 3 Comments »

Emotional Growth Spurt

Jan 4th, 2011 by

Two years ago, Simon and I returned to KIP after winter break and discovered that all his friends had begun talking. The teachers told me that this communal verbal growth spurt was typical. Last year, we returned from break to find that most of his classmates were potty trained. The teachers tell me that always happens, too. Well, I haven’t confirmed whether the experience is universal or not, but this year’s leap was in emotional intelligence and independence.

On January first, at bedtime, a smiling Simon informed me that he wanted to put his own pajama bottoms on. He’s put on some clothes before, but usually needs a little help or gets bored after a time. And he usually has to modify the procedure; like laying his coat out in front of him and then flipping it over his head. On January first, he stepped into his pajama pants one leg at a time. The drawstring tie was on his back, but I was not about to quibble over details. I high-fived him; he beamed with pride. He’s dressed himself as much as he can every day and night since. It’s officially a thing. Right alongside opening the door for me when we leave in the morning and checking to make sure the storm door closes all the way behind us.

He’s also made progress on empathy and understanding how reciprocity in relationships works. And he was already pretty good on those counts!

An early sign was when Simon began spontaneously taking my hand, raising it his mouth, and kissing it. There’s no mystery where the gesture comes from; I do this with him all the time. Still, I was startled the first time he mimicked the gesture. Then he began offering spontaneous back or shoulder rubs—another thing I do for him without thinking. Lately though, any time I sit down beside him for a show or book, he reaches over to “pet” me somehow.

He’s talking about emotional ideas more, too. He watched Toy Story for the first time a few days ago, and did so again today. At one point, he helpfully explained the following to me:

“That kid, Sid [the movie character who maims his toys], isn’t nice. He’s mean to his toys. I don’t think he has any friends, and he doesn’t look happy. But that other Sid, the one from TV [Sid the Science Kid, a show we haven’t watched in ages] who goes to school, he is nice and has lots of friends. He seems happy.”

This spurred a conversation about how mean people are frequently unhappy, and how it almost always makes you feel better and be happier if you are kind to others.

Last night, some ideas about pet stewardship seemed to click, too. Our normal bedtime routine has me read a story or two to Simon and then lie down with him for two songs. On the third, I get up, tuck him in, and kiss him goodnight. Last night Cambria began meowing early on. He gets fed after I tuck Simon in, and I guess he was trying to speed things along. Barely into the second song, Simon initiated a conversation:

“Why is Cambria crying?”

“He’s hungry. He knows that once I tuck you in, I go downstairs to feed him.”

“Oh. I’m good here, Mommy. You can tuck me in now. Cambria needs you.”

I am eager to see how things develop among his classmates. At least one seems to have spontaneously learned to play nicer and be a better friend over the break, as I witnessed just this morning. Mostly, though, I’m just happy to see that “little adolescence” or no, my sweet boy keeps getting sweeter all the time.

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A Few of Our Favorite Things: Part VIII

Jan 2nd, 2011 by

It’s been a year, and this time I’m going to write first and then look back at last year’s to determine how much has changed.

What rocks Simon’s world these day? Here’s what:

1.      Scooby Doo and Star Wars, especially the episodes with the Harlem Globetrotters (really) and “Episode VI”. The majority of Simon’s Christmas and Hanukkah games are relate to one of these shows, unless they are/were

2.      Board Games! Simon loves to play games and can do so four hours on end. He loves Candy Land, Hi Ho Cheerio, The Cat in the Hat I Can Do That, Sequence, The Ladybug Game, Ice Cream Scoops of Fun, and the Curious George Picnic Name. And Memory, I can’t forget Memory. Currently, he’s learning Tic Tac Toe, and is good enough that no one wins most of the time.

3.      Light Sabers. Related to #1, Simon adores playing with his light saber. Even better is when Matt gets out his light saber and the two of them can reenact scenes from Star Wars. The usual favorite is Luke’s final battle with Darth Vader as the Emperor looks on.

4.      School. This year Simon has no hesitation about school at all. The two main reasons are Ms. Tammy and Ms. Shana, his teachers. They are kind and creative, and they get him. If I could convince them to teach the 4s next year, I’d be very happy indeed. Barring that, perhaps we can just keep Simon together with his…

5.      Friends. Simon continues to build the skills that allow him to develop and maintain friendships. From Baron and Ruby and Caroline at school (and others, too, but these are the ones we have the most play-dates outside school with), to first friends Leah and Sophie, to friends Taylor and Jimmy when he visits Grandma, Simon’s world is populated with little people for whom he has big feelings.

6.      Hot Wheels. The love of all things wheeled has not abated. These days its primary expression is found in Hot Wheels Cars, of which one may never have too many, and the four-lane race ramp we have, upon which can never have too many races.

7.      Maurice Sendak books. They are classic for a reason. The first time I read Where the Wild Things Are, he was enraptured. Ditto In the Night Kitchen, the more surreal, less accessible book about Mickey in cake.

8.      Christmas. Hanukkah is fun and all, but Christmas rules. The lights! The tree! The presents! How the Grinch Stole Christmas (book and TV special). The only consolation about Christmas being over is that, in his mind, that means Easter with its candy baskets and egg hunts, cannot be far behind. It’s going to be a long winter around here….

9.      Trips to the coffee shop with Daddy. Sometimes Mommy is allowed on these jaunts. But only sometimes. The highlight is the icing on the cupcake. The cupcake itself is less important, and usually comes home in a box uneaten. As I like the cake but not the icing, we make the perfect team.

10.  Grandma/Bubbie days. Once a week Simon goes home with my mom, and once a week he goes home with Evie. Bubbie days mean trips to Breadworks and Pauls, lots of games, Hot Wheels in the basement, looking for Eddie, and playing hide and seek when we come over to pick him up. Grandma days mean trips to Noah’s ark, play-dates with Taylor or Jimmy, endless rounds of the ice cream game, basketball in the basement, family dinners, and aerobic playing with TJ.

11.  Speaking of Eddie and TJ, Simon loves all the new cats in our lives. From Jim and Evie’s TJ, who joined the family in April, to Mom’s Eddie, who arrived in August or late July, to our Cambria, who is about to celebrate his three-month anniversary with us, Simon loves them all and can recognize and appropriately respond to the personality of each.

12.  Giving directions. In the car, Simon is a zealous guardian of appropriate turn-signal use. He wants to know (and can frequently tell you) which highway you are on (including East vs. West), wants you to use your “super brights” whenever possible, and asks if you are on your brake or gas pedal all the time. He is also mindful of perceived speeding and a variety of other moving violations. If we can keep him from driving before he’s 16, it will be a miracle.

13.  His Trike. He asks to go for rides nearly every day. Even when it was 15 degrees out. I hated saying “no”, but Mamma was not going to chase him in 15-degree—lower if you count wind chill—weather.

14.  Last but not least, running. We still run a lot. At parks, in basements, down long halls, etc. The only change is that now Simon prefers “chasing” to mere running.

Just peeked. Wow! Grandmas and cars and running remain constants, and he does still go to bed with Dirty Dog, Dirty Dog’s Twin, and Funny Monkey every night, but the rest is new and just screams “big kid” to me. He doesn’t seem that different, but the list doesn’t lie!

Posted in Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Another Year Down

Dec 31st, 2010 by

And what a way to end it. In an attempt to make up for boring holiday breaks in years past, Matt and I have worked to keep Simon busy and active during the last 16 days (two to go). He’s had three days with grandparents, including one sleepover, six play-dates with KIP friends, and four holiday parties. Matt and I have rolled out sugar cookies and gingerbread boys, set up and taken down a tree, taken two kids to the Louisville Science Center, and welcomed in the New Year with a preschool New Year’s Eve party.

We even managed a date night. Last night, while Simon was at his grandparents’ house, Matt and I went out for the first time in ages. We enjoyed a terrific dinner at the Mayan Café, went to see the movie The King’s Speech (our first movie in nearly a year, and excellent), and then came home, poured ourselves glasses of wine, and engaged in a fiercely competitive, best two-out-of-three air hockey match… …on a kid’s size table! I’m sure we looked ridiculous. But we laughed a lot, and I won!

Today, after entertaining Baron at our house for a few hours, we hurriedly cleaned the house to get ready for Sophie and Leah (and their parents) to ring in the New Year with us. Matt managed to string up Christmas lights in a non-Christmas fashion, I had treats for the grown-ups and kids, and while our attempt at a balloon drop failed (basically, a garbage bag fell on Sharon’s head at about 8:30), once Matt ripped open the bag and the balloons spilled out, the kids shrieked with joy and had a blast. Then, at around 9:00, Simon announced that he was tired and ready to go upstairs, quite happy to sleep through the last hour of his own party. You have to love a preschooler with such a healthy respect for sleep.

We’ve learned a lot these past two weeks: We’ve learned that Simon’s attention span is longer than most of his friends, that he’s learned to adapt to noisy, busy places, and that play-dates work best when we have an agenda or at least a general game-plan. We’ve learned, or been reminded of, the big difference between 3 ½ and 4 when it comes to playing games, and the big difference between boys and girls when it comes to getting dressed and picking clothes. And we’ve learned that sometimes, when we forget to be good parents, Simon can remind us. Like tonight, when I offered him a holiday cup-cake and he replied by saying, “No mommy. I need to eat a real dinner first. Can you make me a sandwich?”

Right now, my house is a catastrophe of champagne flutes and light sabers, of cake plates and bakugan warrior figures, of dirty forks and un-tethered balloons. And when I go upstairs in just a few minutes, likely before it’s officially 2011, I look forward to Cambria snuggling up beside me, if not on top of me. Tonight, no make that today, no make that these past two weeks, have brought a perfectly sweet end to a bittersweet year.

Now if the universe will just hold that thought! Happy New Year, Everyone.

Posted in Family, Friends, Jessica, Little Boy | 1 Comment »

Is Your Child Smarter Than a Rat? (Quirk or Stage Part II)

Dec 29th, 2010 by

Not if they are under six. At least, not with regards to combining information about spacial location. This is another instance in which something I had barely even noted about Simon, but understood to be a quirk, turns out to reveal a fascinating stage of brain and language development. This time around I have the NPR show Radio Lab to thank for my new knowledge and understanding.

Let me back up a bit. More than once, Matt and I have tried to tell Simon where something is. He’ll say “Where’s my green car?” or the like, and we’ll say, “It’s to the left of the red box” or the like. And then we will watch with confusion and a tiny bit of worry as he fails to find the object.

“No, Simon! To the left!”

Nothing

“No Simon, to the left of the red box, not the blue one.”

Still nothing.

And so it will go until either we give up and retrieve the object for him, or until Simon stumbles across the object by pure chance. And we are always, always confused by this. He knows his colors. He knows his shapes. He knows right from left and up from down. What the heck is happening here? Is he not listening? Not trying?

As I just learned yesterday, it’s neither of those things. It’s that his brain literally cannot make connections between these two types of information.

It all began with scientists setting lose rats in a rectangular room. Food would be put in a corner, the rat spun, and then the rat set loose to retrieve it. As the room has two long walls and two short ones, two corners looked identical. The rat chose the right corner 50% of the time, just what you would expect. So then the researchers painted one wall blue. And the rat? Still chose the right corner 50% of the time. Rodents, despite having color vision, could not combine the color knowledge with the spacial knowledge.

And neither can kids. A similar experiment was run with children. Babies couldn’t find the object left of the blue wall. Two-year-olds couldn’t do it. Three-year-olds couldn’t do it. It’s hard to believe, but it wasn’t until the sample group was six that they could reliably find the object left of the blue wall.

The neuroscientists’ best guess is that the area of the brain that contains information about objects is in one part of the brain; the area with color is in a second; and the area with directional words a third. These regions are all islands, and it isn’t until a child is six that all the islands are connected. So when Simon is floundering as his confused parents blare the same instructions in an ever louder voice, it’s the adults who need to course correct.

In case that’s not fascinating and unexpected enough, here’s the final zinger. It does not happen that kids learn to connect color with location and then display this knowledge with receptive or expressive language. No, it is that the act of hearing and speaking these commands makes the connections happen. Language, in this instance, does not reflect brain development: It enables it.

I was listening to this piece as I drove back from the mall yesterday. When they hit the climax of the story, the part where kids were on par with rats until they were six, I almost missed my merge onto the expressway on-ramp. It was the exact kind of after-the-fact insight, an aha! into an inchoate observation, that makes NPR the best thing on radio and having a child the most fascinating thing I’ve ever done. Transcript of the entire session may be found online.

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Christmas: 2010 Edition

Dec 27th, 2010 by

We came. We saw. We ate too much sugar and got tummy-aches. Then we ate some more. It must be Christmas time! Having gotten through Halloween and Thanksgiving, our next indigestion-inducing holiday won’t come until Passover, and that’s an entirely different flavor of indigestion!

We launched the season with a trip on the Santa Express at the Kentucky Railway Museum in New Haven Kentucky. The Whitworths were worried about a snowy forecast, but we ended up with just enough to make everything pretty and call school off for the next day. The trip was great fun. Simon enjoyed the cookies and the stickers. He wasn’t sure what to do with the hot cocoa, so I drank his, thus beginning a two week period of overindulgence and indigestion. Amusingly but predictably, Simon was blasé about Santa and Mrs. Claus’s entrance on the train (We don’t do Santa; Simon only knows of him as a character in the poem “Twas the Night Before Christmas”.) On the other hand, the conductor thrilled him and was nice enough to show Simon how to punch a ticket.

Punching the Ticket

The Highlight

Then it was time for holiday specials on TV. Simon liked A Charlie Brown Christmas well enough, but it was How the Grinch Stole Christmas that made his heart grow three sizes. We watched it every day for a while there, and Simon offered this insightful exegesis:

“The Grinch is like Darth Vader. He became a good guy at the end.”

Glad to see his literary criticism skills emerge!

Then it was time for the big events: Christmas Eve at my house and Christmas Day at the Whitworths. By now we have established a tradition wherein the family gathers for dinner and presents at my house on Christmas Eve, and then reassembles along with some family friends at Jim and Evie’s on Christmas Day. New to the affair this year, a (blogged about) tree at our house. Not new at all: a day of frantic cooking and cleaning on December 23 and 24. Also not new: a day of abject laziness on December 25 and a mostly futile attempt at a family portrait.

The Best We Managed

By now, this affair, like Chanukah, has a comfortable ring to it. Which tells me that I’m doing my job of creating family rituals. The 2010 rundown is as follows:

  • Laugh-out-loud moment: Sneaking a minute to read David Brooks and Gail Collins in the New York Times. David is a self described “Jew for Christmas” who argued that Christmas is one of the nicest things Christians have brought us, alongside “mac and cheese, Bono, croquet, and politeness.” It was that last bit that did me in.
  • Unexpectedly emotional moment (sad): When Evie gave me two ornaments: one an orange tabby, the other a brown one, to memorialize Percy and Tristan on my tree.
  • Unexpectedly emotional moment (happy): Seeing Cambria pose under our tree once we got a skirt in place. And seeing TJ, aka “Kitty Friend”, the formerly too thin and battle-scarred stray, in his new filled-out form, coat a glossy black, wearing a Christmas collar and with nary a battle scar in sight.
  • Day Matt finished his shopping: December 23. One day earlier than last year.
  • Injury list: Matt, for slightly belated, annual December sinus misery.
  • Large toy cluttering living room pre-December 24: Tomika Mega City Train set, soon to be re-assembled in the guest bedroom.
  • Large toy cluttering living room post-December 24: Air Hockey Table. Likely to stay there through New Year’s Eve!

He Could Get Used to This

  • Too much or too little food on Christmas Eve? Just about right. I’m getting better!
  • Minutes behind schedule serving Christmas Eve dinner? Zero. I’m getting better!
  • How complicated the menu? TRAGIC misconception of “homey”as synonymous with “simple”. Dear heaven, every recipe involved separate glazes or sauces, toasted or crisped something or other, and multiple pans. I never learn!
  • Boxing Day exhaustion/crabbiness factor: Not too bad. We managed a play-date with Baron, a trip to the Comfy Cow for ice cream (my poor stomach!), some basketball in the basement, and some air hockey upstairs. Then we got Simon tucked in by 8:15.

Family member I’m the most grateful for: Evie, who once again put on a great Christmas dinner without looking any the worse for wear, and who chose truly thoughtful presents for me, Matt, and Simon.

p.s. Album will be updated by tomorrow morning with the rest of our holiday shots.

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Anatomy 101

Dec 23rd, 2010 by

[This post is rated PG-13, though the PG-13 language came from preschoolers…]

One of the joys of having a four-year-old is watching them acquire adult skills or knowledge that then gets demonstrated in decidedly child-like ways. Like teaching your child good manners, and watching those manners manifest themselves in a very polite teddy bear tea party.

In our case, we got a classic demonstration of knowledge acquisition—in this case biological—presented in the unique fashion of unselfconscious children.

We were having a play-date with one of Simon’s friends, I’ll call her Isabel, when Simon announced that he had to pee. Isabel had been hopping around quite a bit, and her dad suggested that she might need to pee, too.

And that’s where the kids took over:

Simon: “Do you have to pee, too, Isabel?”

Isabel: “Yea.”

Simon: “Come pee with me! I’ll pee first, and then you can pee.”

[the action moves to the bathroom.]

Isabel: “Why do you have a long bottom?”

Simon: “Cause I’m a boy, and boys have penises. There’s a hole at the end of my penis, and when I have to pee I just think really hard and the pee comes out the hole.”

Isabel: “I have a short bottom.”

Simon: “Yeah, but I’m a boy and boys have penises. Girls don’t have penises.”

While this drama was unfolding, Isabel’s father was telling me that she had been more curious of late about the differences between boys and girls. She settled on the term “long bottom” and “short bottom”, and her dad (I’ll call him Gary) had decided that that euphemism was as good as any. Like us, Isabel’s parents were taking the approach of answering all questions honestly, if not completely or technically. Unlike us, they let Isabel choose her own terms.

I wonder if Isabel will continue to use “long bottom” after yesterday’s onslaught of partially anatomically correct language? Either way, I thought the entire demonstration possessed a certain offbeat charm, and I could see from Gary’s stifled laughter that he concurred.

Posted in Friends, Jessica, Little Boy, Simon says... | 1 Comment »

Oh Tanenbaum!

Dec 20th, 2010 by

Now here’s a picture I would not have recognized a year ago: Cambria sitting under the Christmas tree. Or, to be more accurate, my Christmas tree.

Those last three words make me need to lie down for a few minutes. Matt and I have never had a tree before: I, because I am Jewish, and Matt, because he doesn’t care about holiday decorations. And thus, from 1992 to 2009, our living room has been bereft of tree as I maintained my family tradition and he took a pass on his.

Then Simon came along. We expected things to change, but they did not. The first year we were too tired, the second year we were still too tired and also worried about the cats, and by the third and fourth Christmas we didn’t even discuss it. We just weren’t a “tree family”.

There was every reason to expect Christmas 2010 to be more of the same. Except this year Simon has a mind of his own and the ability to express his thoughts very well. And his opinion was clear: He is a tree guy. His campaign began with simple admiration. He’d see someone else’s tree and declare, “Oh, there’s a tree! It’s so pretty!”

When that didn’t bring about the desired result, he dropped the subtlety.

“Mommy, look at that tree! And that one! Look at all the beautiful trees. Mommy! Mommy! There’s one with rainbow lights. Can we take it home with us?”

And that was the exact moment I knew that the status quo was about to change. Simon has Christmas fever. He is animated and delighted over the lights, the cookies, and anything with a bell. So clearly is he in the thrall of the gustatory and visual delights of Yuletide, that I ended up advocating for the tree. So once Matt got past a crazy cluster of concerts, band practices, basketball games, and insane work nights—ending rather climactically with a night shift that didn’t wrap until 3:00 a.m. on his last ever night at the old job—he took Simon to the waterfront to pick out a fir tree and then on to Target to get “rainbow lights.”

We had some ornaments from Jim and Evie and from that first Christmas with Simon when I thought we might get a tree. There’s a tree skirt on the way, and in the meantime I’ve appropriated an old tablecloth. Rather hysterically, I’m the one who figured out how to get the lights on the tree. (Matt and I joked that the blind was leading the Jew.) I put a giant red bow at the top. Cambria has decided that this is a fine, fine place to rest and look pretty.

And I have discovered that after years of fretting, having a tree is not as emotionally fraught as I expected it to be. It’s pretty and cheery, it smells divine, and Simon is delighted with it. He may be calling my bluff, too, because last night when I told him it was “your [his] tree”, he corrected me:

“No, mommy, it’s your tree, too.”

And I suppose since I’m the one who climbed the ladder, spent an hour or so choosing a tree skirt, and encouraged Matt to establish this father-son tradition, it is my tree, too.

And now, having read those last five words, you’ll have to excuse me while I go lie back down.

Posted in Family, Jessica, Little Boy, Simon says... | 3 Comments »

Typecast

Dec 17th, 2010 by

Taste, as marketers and demographers well know, is closely tied to geography, socio-economic status, and age. That’s why a name like “Charlotte”, one of my top pics for a girl four years ago, is still uncommon here in Kentucky but is very popular in certain circles on both coasts. The first time I realized exactly how much a “type” I was when I walked through the doors of Cost Plus World Market in San Francisco back in 1997. I liked everything. The food, the table linens, the furniture, it was all exactly my taste. And that of the hundreds of people who also considered their taste “eclectic” sharing the floor space.

So much for being a rugged individual!

Where this gets annoying—or more annoying I should clarify—is when taste and budget are at odds with one another. Now that I’m not working, I have to economize a lot more than I used to. For the most part, adapting to reduced circumstances hasn’t been too bad. I’ve found lots of cute things for Simon on sale racks, at places like Osh Kosh, and on eBay. It takes more time, but I’ve got more time.

My greatest temptation has frankly been buying up the entire Tea Collection catalog, but it’s the dresses I salivate over more than the pants and sweaters. So having a boy makes it easier to toss that one in the recycling bin. My task has also been made easier by the closing of a few of my favorite stores and the relocation to further east than I’m willing to drive of others.

Still, I have my “gotcha” moments, the most recent of which arrived in the form of Star Wars pajamas. I ran across an adorable but pricey pair featuring scenes from The Empire Strikes Back, in, God help me, the Pottery Barn Kids catalog.

I’ve never shopped at Pottery Barn Kids; there is something both aspirational and depressingly homogenous about the place that turns me off. Like we’re all teaching our little Madisons and Emmas the value of not play so much as the aesthetic superiority of stainless KitchenAid appliances. I half expect to find a kiddie Viking stove in the place. I like nearly everything they sell—I’m their “type”—but I don’t want to be and I resent them for it.

But those pajamas… I knew Simon would go crazy for them, and I thought they would be a great part of his Christmas present from me and Matt. “OK,” I told myself, “if Pottery Barn has them, so will someone else. And theirs will be a lot cheaper. I’ll keep looking.”

A quick online search confirmed by suspicion. I found loads of them! For much less money! Places like Kohl’s, and JC Penney, and even Macy’s all had them in stock. But they were all from The Clone Wars, one of the dreadful movies from the new series. None of them were button-front, and they were all printed on a rather violent green or depressing black background. And they were all too busy for me. It just wasn’t the same at all.

Yup, the taste makers figured out that those throwing in a $12 pair of pajamas alongside groceries or small household appliances are happy enough with green Clone Wars pajamas. These folks are getting them for their kids, plain and simple. And Lucas co. and the taste makers were clever enough to also know that those insisting on the old series, those chasing a bit of nostalgia for their own childhoods, are the ones willing to shell out over twice that (before tax) for clothes that never get worn in public.

It’s offensive, no? I don’t spend that much for my own pajamas. But what to do? They had me, and we both knew it. Sometimes when this happens (amazing $70 sweater in Tea Collection catalog) I walk away. This time, I shelled out the money and cursed the marketing team responsible for the devastatingly accurate analysis of my cohort’s taste.

My justification? He can wear them on pajama day at preschool…

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Baby It’s Cold Outside

Dec 14th, 2010 by

And inside, too. Simon to Matt this morning when it was time for his morning pee:

“Daddy, can you pull my pants down for me? My hands are cold.”

We’ve all been there, little buddy!

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