Tomorrow is Bridget's first day of kindergarten. Even though I should get to bed, I insisted on looking at hundreds of photos of our life with B—in our dingy Vancouver apartment, our little house in Ritchie, the halloweens, the first birthday cakes, the playdough, the blanket forts, this road trip through Banff —and we have had such a wonderful life, really. And it's all her. She is the absolute apple of my eye, it cannot be explained.

The elusive Rhimonster

The other day Bridget and I were at the library, and she noticed they had a suggestion box. She asked what it was, then insisted on having me write something down for her. First, she wanted to tell them that she liked the summer reading club; second, that she was having trouble finding the hidden picture of the Rhimonster (the location of which you can submit to a weekly contest).

There was also a little box at the bottom where you indicate whether the library can contact you for follow up. We put my email address in, thinking we'd get a one-line, "thanks for your feedback" type of thing. Not so! Look at what the wonderful people at the Strathcona branch sent me yesterday:

Hello Bridget! Thank you so much for your note. This week the Rhimonster is hidden at the library, somewhere close to the fish tank. He hides in a different place every week. If you ever want another hint about where that sneaky Rhimonster is hiding, please ask someone at the Summer Reading Club desk. 

 I am so glad that you like the Summer Reading Club! We have a lot of fun, free programs coming up like a Magic Show where you can learn a few tricks to try out at home, and a super hero “Super Stories” program. I hope that you can come. You can see all of the fun stuff happening at the library by clicking here: [link].

Have fun reading this summer! Please email me if you have any more questions about the Summer Reading Club. You can also ask a librarian the next time you come to the library. We would be really excited to answer any of your questions or hear what you really like about the Summer Reading Club.

Best job in the world.

Five Things I Love About Finn, Who Turned 1 a Month Ago

1. The way he points at his head when you ask him "where's your head?"

2. The way his little eyebrows pokes up for a split second when he peeks around a corner, or over the back of a chair. He knows that being sneaky is funny, and I when laugh, he laughs back.

3. The way he always seems to leave the room Bridget and I are in. It's a pain in the butt, but I admire his independence, or even just his interest in checking out what's going on in the kitchen (Answer: nothing).

4. The way he gets all squealish when he knows or thinks Bridget is chasing him around the living room or between her and my bedroom. He is still so little and wobbly, and stands with his feet so wide apart. And its seems that when he gets running like this his feet only get wider and wider apart, and he has to lift his hands above his head for balance.

5. Maybe most of all I love the way he rubs his face into Bridget and blankets and stuffed animals, and the way he rubs his face into me. He grabs my arm, or my leg if I am standing, or grabs either side of my face and just pushes his face into me. I'm not sure why he does it, but it feels to me like he just can't get close enough. And at night, when I put my arm through the bars of his crib, he clings to it and cuddles it like it's all he's got.

Five Things I Love About Finn, Who Turned 1 Yesterday

1. His favourite game is walking. In our house you can walk in a circuit through the living and dining rooms, around a hallway, and back again. Ever since Finn started hoofing it on his own, at around 10.5 months, he’s spent probably an hour every day doing this loop over and over again. Pure joy.
2. He’ll try eating anything. As a baby, Bridget was the pickiest of picky eaters. Not Finn. He’ll make short work of beans, cheese, hummus, spicy veggie burger patties, and all manner of fruits and vegetables (though he has gotten more discerning in recent weeks). He eats with his hands, and after every meal you can find a ring of crumbs and stains on his shirt at the exact point where tray meets stomach.
3. How much he loves the outdoors. A big selling point of our house was the backyard, which is big and ringed with trees. Whenever the snow has melted (Edmonton springs are a tease), we let Finn run wild back there, and wild he does run. This is going to be a kid who grows up with dirt under his fingernails. Already, when he sees an open door but can’t go through it, he screams.
4. He smushes his face into a stuffed animal to show he likes it. Adorable.
5. The way he looks up to Bridget. This is the easiest one of all to spot—he obviously thinks the world of his big sister, and will dutifully absorb whatever nonsensical song she’s singing or Harry Potter spell she’s casting. Watching your children feed off of one another may be the single most fulfilling part of being a parent.

So happy birthday, Finn. You are exactly as old as The Pale King, and I love you even more.

Easter 2012

FRIDAY

Kate had to finish her last essay of the semester, so she took off to Transcend first thing in the morning. I played with both kids for a few hours and made everyone lunch. When Kate came home, I took Bridget and Finn out to Wee Book Inn, so he could pet their crusty-eyed cat Yvan who lives next to the sci-fi. I sold eight books and bought three new ones (one for Bridget). We went to Videodrome and rented four movies. Then we drove to a nearby Mac’s and picked out treats to go with the movie. Bridget picked these horrible synthetic chemical-ropes called Cow Tales, which Kate and I have since agreed are now off-limits. I got a peanut butter Snickers. We came home and put on part of Bridget’s Sesame Street country music jamboree DVD so Finn could dance to the banjo song and point at the screen whenever Elmo appears. We ate dinner. Bridget and I watched Labyrinth. Kate finished her essay and I proofread it before she handed it in. She was very excited. Bridget slept in our bed. Finn slept very poorly.

SATURDAY

I had an appointment to donate blood—my first—at 8:45, and Bridget really wanted to come with me and watch. Later she told me she was gathering material for a game called Blood Clinic. We all went on the LRT, and Bridget got squeamish once we walked in the door. She agreed to come sit with me in the chair only after the needle was in. It went fine; I ate soup after. Meanwhile Finn pooed, so Kate took off with him to buy wipes. They ended up too far away, and decided to walk home. Bridget and I got back on the LRT and went to the downtown farmers’ market at City Hall, as planned. We bought apples, pears, eggs, an onion, a cucumber, and one cookie dough Cake Bite each. We walked home from the LRT and sang “Ten Green and Speckled Frogs” as loud as we could.

Kate was in full-on cleaning mode, and Finn was napping, so Bridget and I kept playing at home. We drew exquisite-corpse monsters and played Candy Land on the floor of her room. Then we drove out to the library and bought some groceries from Safeway. Kate stayed home with Finn and did some dinner prep. We ate dinner, and Kate’s mom came over to babysit. Kate and I went out and met some friends at a new bar called Cask and Barrel downtown. We drank two beers each, came home, and hid Easter eggs all around the house before bed. Finn slept surprisingly well.

SUNDAY

Bridget woke up at 6 AM, ready for her Easter egg hunt. She surprised me with a present she’d picked out with Kate, and vice versa. Neither of us suspected it. Bridget hunted for eggs all over the house and found most of them; Finn waved around his rabbit balloon on a stick. We ate breakfast. Bridget was surprised, and not unpleasantly, to find some Mini-Eggs sprinkled in with her Cheerios. We drew on and then dyed some pre-hard-boiled white eggs. I played with Finn inside a nylon tent in the office while David Bowie’s Low played in the background. We had a picnic lunch in our backyard on a spot where the snow had melted. Kate and Finn went inside; Bridget and I kept playing until she fell and scraped her palm on the concrete. Kate and I played Scrabble at our dining room table while Bridget kept score. Kate got a 50-point bonus for playing “e[n]abling”; I used “squab,” and wasn’t sure if it was spelled right but knew Kate wouldn’t challenge me. Bridget and I went to the Garneau Theatre to watch Chaplin’s The Gold Rush on the big screen. She giggled during the potato-dance sequence, and her laughs echoed around the whole theatre; she also tried a single sip of pop, wrinkled her nose, and declared it "too bubbly."

When we got back, Kate’s parents were over, and they were all working on the nearly finished basement suite. Together they changed locks, fixed our busted gate, and installed curtain rods. I made dinner—kidney-bean veggie burgers, yam fries, and asparagus—and Kate and Bridget made little strawberry shortcakes for dessert. The grandparents went home, and the kids went to bed. I hung laundry to dry, then sat down and wrote this.

Easter 2012.

The Easter Bunny

Last Friday, Kate told Bridget that there is no Easter Bunny.

This was obviously sooner than I’d planned. I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I figured out that the pantheon of holiday gift-creatures weren’t real, but I know it was a lot older than 5 1/2 (Bridget’s birthday is in October). The problem is that this kid is so relentless and curious that we really couldn’t wait any longer. Actually, Kate’s always had issues with, in her words, lying to our children; I’ve just barely been able to convince her to let there be magic in Bridget’s world for as long as possible.

But when Bridget spends all of her weekdays staring out of our kitchen window, forgetting to eat her lunch and instead asking Kate where the Easter Bunny comes from, telling her how she wants to spend all afternoon scouting out the backyard in case he shows up early, and peppering her with complex questions about logistics (not to mention the point-blank, “Do you believe in the Easter Bunny?”)—well, there’s only so long “magic” is even a viable answer anymore. She wants to know how this magic works. Why this bunny, and not other bunnies? Why on this one day? What are the rules? And why aren’t mom and dad more concerned about this?

In general, Bridget does not sit back and accept answers that she thinks are intentionally vague. She argues. She keeps digging. And she doesn’t hesitate to assert herself (to her swimming teacher, loudly: “I don’t have to put my face underwater, and you can’t make me”), even though I would still describe her as a fundamentally shy kid. Does she split hairs? Dear lord.

So Kate had to tell her, because she was on the verge of figuring it out for herself.

And apparently Bridget took the news pretty well. Kate told her it’s really just a fun story that parents get to tell their kids, and that she hoped Bridget wasn’t upset or mad at us. She promised that we’ll still have an Easter egg hunt this year, and the years after that. (Did I mention Kate is an amazing mother?) A surprise mini-bag of Mini Eggs helped cushion the blow. So far Bridget hasn’t asked about the Tooth Fairy or Santa, but let’s just say those bullets are now in the chamber.

So from now on, Easter is about stories and chocolate—not giant, sentient rabbits that have a key to our house. I think I can live with that. Hopefully Bridget will sleep a little easier, too.

Detective face, Easter 2010.