Aurora Wells

My first pics of the newest Wells sweetie pie, my niece Livia:

And by request for Grandma Shaun, a picture of her wonderful munchkins:

In the ongoing nature-nurture discussion, Aurora has once again made it clear that she is her own person, not impressed by my careful and steadfast encouragement of musical interests. For almost two years now, we’ve been attending a weekly music class at various community centres near our house, taught by the inimitable Barbara Duncan. I love it, and look forward to it every week. Barbara gears the songs, rhymes, and fingerplays to the various age groups she teaches. Most of the kids seem to love it, and they jump up with glee to grab musical instruments (primarily percussion) for making a happy cacophany.

Most of the kids, that is, except Aurora. Some parts she really enjoys, like the insect number countdown (you jump up and grab a plastic bug from the line when Barbara calls your name), the caterpillar puppet who turns into a butterfly, and “Monkey See, Monkey Do.” Other parts of class annoy the heck out of her, like when Barbara pulls out the guitar and all the kids are able to cut lose with their drums, triangles, bells, and maracas. She really doesn’t like “Zoom, Zoom, Zoom,” either. I had various excuses and rationalizations for Aurora’s negative, fussy behaviour during some parts of the class, like shyness, unwillingness to perform in front of others, and so on. I still thought she was getting something out of it, though.

Then three weeks ago, after another temper tantrum halfway through class, she finally let me have it in language I could understand. “I don’t like it, Mommy. It’s TOO LOUD!” Well, okay then. I didn’t want to just skip the last two weeks of class, particularly because Aurora seems to mostly enjoy the first half of it, so I talked to Barbara about it. She kindly offered to extend the puppet and finger play part of the class and soften the music (and hold back the drums) for the last two classes of the session. Aurora managed to hold on until the end.

Music is such an important part of my life, and so integral to my daily happiness, that it’s going to be a real challenge to find a way to compromise with someone who covers my mouth when I sing (and has since she was a baby), and complains when I turn on the radio that she “doesn’t like that song,” whether it’s Classical, Rock, Folk, or Showtunes. I really had no idea that this sort of thing was genetic. I thought that if I introduced music, and plenty of it, from a very young age, that she would take to it like a fish to water. I’m not complaining, I’m just surprised. I guess it makes me appreciate even more the good luck I have in having a child who loves to read, playact, tell jokes and stories, make art, and build things. She’s a wonder, and I love her, but she is definitely her own person.

Yesterday morning I left the house before Aurora woke up so that I could go to the dentist and be home in time for Brian to go to work at a reasonable hour. The last thing I expected when I got home was to walk into a forest of Truffula Trees. (If you haven’t read The Lorax by Dr. Seuss yet, you really, really must.)

Almost every day with Aurora is like an amateur improvisational theatre production of whatever books or videos we’ve been exploring lately. If you use your imagination, in the above photo you can see four lovely Truffula trees (brooms & jammies), the Lorax (Monkey), and the Once-ler (Aurora) with an axe (comb). Off-camera: a Brown Bar-ba-loot (Daddy), a Humming Fish (Nemo) and a Swomee-Swan (Mommy). She and Daddy had a Truffula fruit (mango) for breakfast, but while the Bar-ba-loot liked it, the Once-ler wasn’t keen on it. Daddy told me that when he built the trees, she demanded, “I need an axe! I need an axe!” so she could chop one down to make a Thneed. It’s a bit alarming that Aurora relates to the Once-ler, the “bad guy” of the tale. I guess she’s not quite old enough to grasp the environmental message of the book, but Daddy thinks that’s a good place to start. She says that now that she’s the Once-ler, he’s not a bad guy anymore (see below, comforting the poor Lorax with a hug):

So, today we’re back to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, with a bit of Cars thrown in for good measure. I thought that Aurora was Goofy today, but I just heard her commanding in a deep(ish) voice from her crib, “Mater! Don’t mock the ghost light.”

Also, for good measure, a photo of how I spent the US/Canada Olympic gold medal hockey match:

Making a multiethnic cheering stadium, of course!

until somebody stole it in the Hanukkah game. And my cookies. And my gourd. Or so the song goes, right? Anyway, the Nestors and many of our friends and family partied it up right last Saturday at our annual Hanukkah party.

Brian the Goy and Ashleigh the Shiksa did their part by making the roughly six dozen latkes to feed us all, and did such a great job that they get to be honorary jews for another year.

Then there was the steal-a-gift game, which was a ton of fun this year. Aurora and Rafi, the toddlers, were given distraction gifts before the real thing got started, and then we got down and dirty. The theme this year was “Homemade, Preferably by You”, which inspired a lot of talent and creativity.

Here Aunt Ashleigh opens Brian’s gift, a jar of blackberry jam and a bag of a dozen truffles, both homemade by him (Lisa and Aurora decorated the box). She held onto it until nearly the end, but it was stolen eventually. Luckily, she was teamed with the formidable David, who managed to steal it back at the last minute.

Grandma Gail was delighted to open my gift, a jar of spiced candied pecans (being eyed by an interested Aunt Laurie). My godbrother Ben ended up with that prize, though.

Brian, who is male and has 20/20 vision, is not exactly sure what he’s going to do with the lovely beaded glasses holder that Cousin Sandy made, but he thinks it’s very attractive. I’m sure he’ll find a way to repurpose it – maybe for his safety glasses at work?

I picked out these great “snowball” cookies that my brother David actually made, but I didn’t get to keep them. Here’s the recipe: Spread peanut butter between two Nilla Wafer cookies, dip them in melted white chocolate, and sprinkle them with blue sugar crystals. Yum! I managed to steal a box of recipe cards and a gorgeous gourd vase, but in the end, I snared a fantastic prize:

A rainstick handmade by my Aunt Laurie. Despite all practical considerations of how I’m going to transport it back home, and where I’m going to put it when it gets there, I fell in love and had to have it, so I stole it from my brother (whose wife didn’t know where she was going to put it, either).

Other notable gifts: Uncle Steve won a gorgeous print of one of my Uncle Dean’s photographs. It’s a crane in flight at the Bolsa Chica wetlands, 15 minutes from Gail & Larry’s house.

My Cousin Anna briefly snagged a gourd decorated in an African theme, but that one ended up with the Africa fanatic, my Aunt Nancy. It was great to see Anna again, after so many years. We are not often in Southern California at the same time.

Aunt Laurie and Grandma Gail practically pee themselves laughing at something during the game. If you’re playing the game hoping that everyone will get the perfect gift in the end, you’re bound to be disappointed, but there are moments of sweet generosity as well as dastardly behaviour, and absolute hilarity is usually the result.

Life with Aurora is a pretty super adventure. It’s no wonder she doesn’t want to nap anymore (2 naps in the past 14 days), because every day there’s something new going on. Last week she wanted to spend all her time in Mater, with our battered old couch standing in for the battered old truck from the movie Cars. Mater is especially fun when you jump on him.

That old couch has hosted an unexpected wealth of play activity. Thanks to Olin for introducing the “couch as vehicle” concept. Now, when we’re not being Tiggers and jumping, jumping, jumping, we’re driving places in Mater the Truck. We often drive to Camaforna, or we head over to Barrett’s or Bombur’s houses. Aurora has cast her little Tigger in the role of Bombur (although despite being a striped member of the cat family, the resemblance stops there) for our trips to the Hammonds’ house. She especially loves it when we arrive at their building and have to go on the elevator (our kitchen) and push the buttons (on the microwave) to get to the right floor.

Sometimes, though, we’re in a hurry to get to Camaforna, or we want to go even farther, like Africa. That’s when we need the airplane:

Daddy cleverly set up this airplane for Aurora in the dining room. Raggedy Ann is the co-pilot; Aurora prefers to sit in the back (although you musn’t call her a ‘passenger’ – she hates that label). If you lead her through the procedure, she gets totally absorbed in the game, making sure everyone has their seatbelts on, listening to the flight attendant’s spiel about emergency exits and oxygen masks, and looking out the window to see Mount St. Helens or Tanzania. Airplane flights usually start with Aurora wanting to take one of her stuffed animals “home”, whereupon we fly them to Africa, the Rockies, or wherever they might come from.

Then there’s the characters she plays. One day last week, after reading The Three Little Pigs too many times, Aurora announced that she was now the Big Bad Wolf. But since she cast Mommy as another Big Bad Wolf, and Daddy, too, she then became the Little Big Bad Wolf. Those pigs don’t stand a chance, especially because Daddy always points out, “Why didn’t he just eat them before they finished building their houses?” Yesterday she carried Pooh Bear around, and said that she was Christopher Robin. Then she wanted to go to sleep at the North Pole (because we’d just read a new book about a penguin who had to move there). Right now she’s having “quiet” time in her crib, claiming, “I am Santa Claus! I am Santa Claus!”

Aurora doesn’t come up with this stuff in a vacuum. Daddy or I make a suggestion, or she sees something in a book, which gives her the idea. But the energy she infuses into every imaginary situation brings them to life, and you want to add more fuel to keep the fire going. I’m not a great puppeteer or actor, but at least I can keep taking her to the library every week, and get more books to recharge our creative batteries. My Mom tells me that her first year with me was the best time, but each year with Aurora just keeps getting better and better. I can’t wait to see what she’ll come up with next.

For as long as I can remember (or at least since my little brother was two) I’ve heard about the “terrible” twos, when your angel baby is supposed to turn into some kind of monster for a year (or two). What I didn’t anticipate was how the angel and devil would reside side-by-side in my kid. Yes, Aurora has some tantrums, but usually when it’s been too long since she’s eaten or slept, and who wouldn’t be on a short fuse by then? And yes, she says “No” a lot, but more frequently it’s “No, fank you.”

Aurora, as it turns out, has taken to heart the lesson that you catch more flies with honey, and that Mommy and Daddy are more likely to say yes to a request when it’s followed by “Pease (please)”. When we’re tickling her, dressing her in unacceptable clothing, or doing other annoying things, she says, “No fankyou! No fankyou! No fankyou!” and we usually lay off. If we’re in her way, she says, “Dooz (’scuse) me” and when I sneeze (which is an awful lot) she says, “Bess (bless) you, Mommy”. When she first learned thank-you, she used to thank me for every single grape I cut up and put on her plate, to which I always replied, “You’re welcome” with a smile.

But the most awesome thing is when we’re sitting and playing or laying down with her and she hoists herself up to eye level, gently leans in, brushes a feather-light kiss on my cheek, and says “Love you Mommy”. I’ll take whatever bad she throws my way if it means I get goodness like that.