Elliot loved tubing.

This morning, Elliot and I watched “The 7th Voyage of Sinbad”. He had the attention span for it and enjoyed the monsters. He’s been singing the theme song all day.

Then we went to the Science and Natural History Museum. We spent almost the entire time in the temporary deep ocean exhibit, always one of Elliot’s favorite things (and Max’s).

Elliot, 4 1/2 years old, runs around all day and night singing Jewish songs! Some I know, some I don’t. But I love it for some reason. Sometimes it’s just repeating the Rabbi’s “ay yah, ay yah yah” and other times songs with words that he’s learned from the Garden Preschool.

Video at https://youtu.be/ymTnmewgJ1k

Elliot says “Babushka” a lot. He said it last night to a boy at the Chick-Fil-A playground who he’s never met before.

Today he asked me what it means.

Sunday night we went to a Hanukkah party at the Lone Tree Chabad synagogue where we go to services. There was an ice cream truck outside selling $10 ice cream with a long line. It was very cold, and I had no coat.

“Let’s go inside. I’m cold and don’t want to wait in line. We can go to Andy’s Ice Cream later,” I said.

“You’re a jerk,” Elliot said.

I bent down and said, “Don’t talk to me like that or we will leave. That’s not nice.” I asked for an apology which he begrudgingly gave. Elliot was angry, but quickly moved on (thankfully!), and we had a good time at the party making candles, donuts, and painting a dreidel.

This morning — a day and a half later — Elliot said, “Daddy, what’s a jerk?”

“A jerk is a mean person,” I said.

“I’m sorry I called you a jerk at the party,” he said and lunged at me, hugging my legs. I bent down to hug him properly and said, “It’s ok. Thank you for apologizing.” My heart melted that he remembered this incident and felt bad about it.

I am continually amazed and reminded of Elliot’s emotional insights, compassion, integrity, sympathy. Something. Maybe these aren’t the right words. Something about this mind is special when it comes to relationships.

Elliot and I went to Shabbat services again the other day. He’s getting too big to sleep on my lap, but he did try.

He played baseball outside with a bunch of older boys; I would guess 7 or 8. Elliot is now 4 and a half. They also played dodgeball.

But for baseball, there was one boy in particular who tried to keep him from playing. He would not give Elliot the bat. I finally intervened after Elliot came and got me from services inside.

Elliot batted quite well but didn’t know to run to the base — I haven’t taught him that part yet even though he’s been practicing batting for 2 years now.

Anyway, I left and came out again later. Elliot was sitting alone on the playground. All the boys had gone. He was pensive, looking at the ground.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“That boy took the bat away from me. He wouldn’t let me play,” he said.

I felt terrible. I picked him up in my arms and hugged him,m. I told him I was sorry. But I didn’t know how to help. I wanted to tell him how to stick up for himself, but these boys are older. I felt like I let him down.

We’re celebrating it early this year. Elliot got a Goo Gitsu truck yesterday and a skateboard today. He’s been asking for a skateboard for two months.

We made gingerbread men from scratch! First time for both of us. Cyclops gingerbread men, too. Or is it a minion?

“Daddy, tomorrow you can make me a pet rock?” 🐈🐱🗿

“Daddy, you know what is my favorite day?”

“What?” I ask.

“Being with you.”

Elliot loves to watch the donuts being made at Krispy Krene. He can watch for 10 or 15 minutes.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“Yes, but the blaze tastes like vanilla.” [The glaze tastes like vanilla]

Elliot said, “You know what is the best part of my day?”

“What?” I asked.

“Being with you,” he replied.

When something goes awry, Elliot touches my cheek, looks me in the eye and says, “It’s ok.”

It could be the plumbing broke at the Buena Vista Overlook cabins, so we didn’t have running water.

It could be that I get frustrated with something or upset. I can’t think of any more specific examples. Maybe something as simple as being late in the morning routine for school and work.

I think often of him touching me saying “It’s ok.” It is comforting. I need to paste here Joseph Goldstein’s words about fear and “it’s ok.”

I am fascinated with how my kids come to understand death and time. I remember writing about it in the Maxi Book when Max was small, more than once. Elliot finally has a grasp on the past, present, and future, and I don’t hear him refer to ‘yesterday‘ as any day in the past anymore, or ‘tomorrow‘ as any day in the future, but that’s a recent development.

Christine McVie from Fleetwood Mac died on Wednesday. Elliot knows their music and her voice from a number of songs that I play often. He sometimes asks for “Little Lies” and even watches her in the music video.

So, I told Elliot that she died. Then, I played “Little Lies”. Elliot said, “Daddy, how is she still singing?”

Next, we listened to “Mystified” which I love for its ethereal feeling. Elliot knows this song, too. He asked if tonight she’ll be a zombie (in all seriousness). He asked if she is in the graveyard with a sign stone (his words for a gravestone).

This sparked a discussion about death that I recorded. I’m attaching it here, transcribed at the bottom after this divider.

The next day, Elliot said:

“Humans get born and they die?

“Yes,” I said.

“Grandmas die,” he said.

“Do you think someday daddy will die?” I asked.

“No, because you’re new,” Elliot replied.

Elliot: “Why do some people get born and some people die?”

Me: “Elliot, everyone that’s born also dies.”

Elliot: “Um, um, mama and me, we’re driving back and there was a graveyard and there was a bunch of people.”

Me: “There were a bunch of people at the graveyard?”

Elliot: “Yeah”

Me (struggling with what’s age appropriate to say): “Yeah, everyone dies though. Do you understand? I know it seems like only some people die.”

Elliot: “But, um, at the graveyard, the big graveyard, there was so much people died.”

Me: “Yeah. Did you walk through the graveyard?”

Elliot: “No, we were in the car.”

Me: “So, that woman singing ‘Little Lies’, her name is Christine McVie. She died today. And you asked how is she still singing?”

Elliot: “Yeah”

Me: “She is still singing because what we are listening to is called a recording. “

Elliot: “Like from a long, long time ago?”

Me: “Yeah, a long time ago she was singing into what’s called a tape recorder, a recorder, and they saved her voice. And now you can listen to it anytime, even when she’s dead.

Elliot: “Yeah. Daddy?”

Me: “Yeah”

Elliot: “Um, I can see, I can see, um, I want, I want, um, you can turn on, you can turn on Nyan Cat?

Some photos from around this time. The last one is Elliot writing the letter “J” at Pre-K in the Garden Preschool. That’s Darien next to him, who he does not like very much. He tells me many times how Darien pushes him or takes his toys, or otherwise mistreats him.

Elliot said, “Remember when I was a baby? People kept feeding me yogurt, and I didn’t like it.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“No”, he says.

“I’m sorry”, I reply. It must have been so frustrating for him. I remember mixing plain yogurt with a jar of baby fruit almost every morning and feeding it to him. He wore a bib and sat in the high chair.

But he didn’t spit it out. It wasn’t obvious to me that he didn’t like it.

When Elliot was a baby, he laughed a particular way. A genuine laugh that ended with a “hhhhhhhhhhh” exhale. He still does that now, sometimes but not very often, and I am reminded of the little baby. The other day after a tickle-chase game he said, “Daddy, I love to laugh!”

I read this today in the daily parenting email I get from Sarah Chana Radcliffe, a child psychologist in Toronto.

I am thankful how lucky I am. Elliot never had this phase, even though Sarah says it is common.

“Toddlers can “lose it” for absolutely no reason. They can meltdown every few minutes, just “because.” This can be extremely hard on parents but there are things that can make it easier. For instance, understand that this is a normal developmental phase that shows up between ages 18 months and 4 years. It doesn’t represent a failure on your part. It doesn’t predict the future. It doesn’t represent a serious disorder on the child’s part. It’s usually a temporary glitch that will soon be replaced with sunnier days. Don’t pay it much attention – just put your ear plugs in and carry on normally (and keep everyone safe of course). All parents go through this; welcome to the club.”