Yesterday Livia decided to become Caillou and Jeremy, for some reason we still don’t know, was assigned the role of Caillou’s baby sister Rosie. (By the way, Caillou is the one PBS character I really don’t like because he’s whiny. Liv hardly watched this show when we did have cable access!) The 3 year old logic continued with my assignment as Caillou’s dad.

This morning Livia informed me that Daddy is a little girl with a beard.

I’m still giggling about it.

A few days ago Jeremy, Livia and I were cuddled on the couch together when Liv turned to me and said, “Mom, you’re beautiful.” Then we had to explain the concept of happy tears to our 3 year old.

Her charm and adoration was geared toward Jeremy this afternoon. She looked at him, nose-to-nose, and told him he had “beautiful eyes.” She’s right, he does.

Finally, Liv pulled out her wee accordian (a gift from Uncle Andrew) and began wheezing away on the thing, making noises that would fit right in during the Wilber Czech Festival. Sung in falsetto, her song went like this: I love Grandpa Bill. Aww.

“Time’s up?” she asks from her perch on the little potty.

“Hmm. Yeah,” I absentmindedly say while, like usual, doing something else.

“No. Time’s down.” And she plops her tushy back onto the plastic seat.

She has my attention. “Time’s down?”

“Yes, Time’s down! I’m not done yet.”

Alrighty then.

Thanks to all you kind, prayerful people who intervened before God regarding our sleep problems. Boy, is life a lot smoother when Livia sleeps at night!

I want to make a few notes about some helpful advice we’ve received lately. Brenda, a friend who is a social worker (correct me, Mom, if I’m wrong with that job title), really helped us with several techniques for rearing a preschooler. She suggested we come up with a short list of behaviors, four to five things, that always require discipline. And she recommended that we work on redirecting unwanted behaviors that don’t make the list. Liv’s chewing on her hair barrette? No big deal! Totally not on the list. She’s spitting in the backseat of the car? Mmm. Starting to get under my skin, but also not on the list. Spitting at me in anger? Definitely discipline-worthy. For those who are curious, right now we are focusing on some defiant behaviors like saying “no” to Mom and Dad, telling us what to do, hitting, throwing things in anger. Brenda suggested that when we feel like we’ve made some success in this areas, then we can move on to other behaviors.

I also picked up the Supernanny book. I really like Jo Frost and think she has some very practical advice to offer. Some ideas I have taken from her include the naughty spot, the notion of being very controlled with your responses to your out-of-control child, and a more gentle warning system before disciplining. While at B&N, I also chose to buy Boundaries with Kids because I keep hearing over and over, and I know it to be true, that kids crave boundaries. As I repeated to myself during some really tantrum-y nights with Livia, “I am pillar. I am a pillar.” Translation: I am strong, I can be strong! Sometimes I would turn into a wet noodle within 20 minutes, but the desire to be a firm boundary-provider remains.

So how did we get our child to start sleeping again? Hah! Do you think I’m going to post that here? Sleep issues invite all sorts of uninvited advice and mothers in particular go all nuts on each other debating the family bed vs. the CIO approach. I’m not going to open up that discussion here. But I am more than willing to talk about some issues that NO PARENTING BOOKS EVER DISCUSS. You just have to email me or give me a call for a little one-on-one chat. Lord willing, your children will all sleep like angels through the night from infancy on.

Speaking of sleeping angels, I have one. She’s cuddled in bed now, door open with a fan running to block out all the firecracker noises. Sweet dreams, punkin baby. (To which she would say, if lucid, “I not a baby! I’m three!”)

**As a fairly extroverted extrovert, I talked to lots of family and friends about the discipline issues we’ve encountered in the last month. Even if I didn’t mention you by name, please know that I love and appreciate you!

She’s starting to catch on, starting to understand that it’s a pool, not a cool. Oh how I wish I could bottle up her precious baby language and listen to it when she’s 15 or so.

“L-M-N-P-Q!”

Crash!

Laughter…

“R-K-M-T-V!”

Crash!

More giggles…

It’s Livia, standing in the middle of our bed, calling out letters as she sees them from a framed piece of artwork spelling “Tredway” on our bedroom wall. She spells victoriously, jumps high, and lands in a mess of arms and legs on the mattress. Then she gets up and does it again. And laughs even harder.

Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, No more monkeys jumpin’ on the bed!

When you need a break from the dust of demolition and the fast-paced world of email, a little levity goes a long way. Perhaps that, plus the need to humble prideful adults, is why God gave us children.

I sure do love this kid.

It’s been very stormy this spring and when it rains things get interesting around our house because Liv is scared of “funders,” as she puts it. Tonight I was trying to teach her that she doesn’t need to be afraid because our very big, very powerful, very loving God controls the thunderstorms.

So I asked her, “Livia, who takes care of you?”

“God,” she answered.

“Livia, who is in control?”

“Mommy.”

Well. Now that we’ve got that straightened out…

I recently purchased The Little Puppy because it’s a precious reminder of my childhood (Adam and Andrew, I bought you copies, too). Tonight Livia was reading the book on her own, as a 3 year old will do, turning the pages and incorporating her own dialogue. I wasn’t quite sure I was hearing her right, so I asked her to repeat the name she was calling the puppy.

“Jungle Building,” she said.

“Jungle Building?” I had to ask again. To be absolutely sure.

“Mm-hmm.”

I have to say, I love moments like this. Really, who wouldn’t want an adorable Springer Spaniel named Jungle Building? It’s right up there with Bingo and Lassie.

We had another moment yesterday when picking up my parents after their vacation with my Aunt Jan’s family in the Caribbean. After an hour’s drive, Livia and I pulled into a spot on the surface parking lot of the Omaha airport and Liv asked, “We in Jamaica now?” For over a week she had been hearing talk of Jamaica and assumed we were going there to pick up Nana and Papa.

After a lengthy self-indulgent sigh I told her, “No. We’re only in Omaha.”