Are you talking to me???
We read lots of parenting books. Happiest Toddler on the Block told us she was a neanderthal, and we should speak to her in chimp noises, feed her bananas and dress her in woolly mammoth skins. OK, so I made Jeff read that one. I don't know, it was something about their underdeveloped social skills and trying to relate to them by yelling along with them. Or something. Then there was Parenting with Love and Logic. This one is all about choices. Instead of saying "It's cold. Put on a coat!" you say, "Wow, it's a bit chilly out. Do you think you'd like to wear this purple sweater, or this pink jacket?" Sounds.... lame. So OK, I made Jeff read that one too. Cut me some slack, I had to get through Twilight: Eclipse before the movie came out. Thanks MJ.
All this caveman jibberjabber and waitress talk was turning into, well, just a lot of talk; meanwhile Josie was continuing to run roughshod over everyone from the FedEx man to defenseless babies in the park, with whose sand toys she would make off, cackling devilishly. I was running out of voice... and ideas. Then, I visited a very nice mum, married to a colleague of Jeff's and mother of two boys under 4 (I know... sainthood, right?). While she was preparing lunch for all our little cro-magnons, she opened the pantry and I spotted some sort of colorful chart featuring Bob the Builder (has anyone ever noticed, by the way, that Barack Obama totally stole his rallying cry?). "What's that chartymathingy?" I asked. Saintly Mum replied, "Why, that's their reward chart. They accumulate stickers for performing certain good behaviors, and every dozen stickers or so they get a different reward."
POSITIVE reinforcement! Genius (and something that would never occur to a born Catholic... or a Democrat). As soon as Josie and I descended from the train I trucked her home and hopped online. Three days later a Peppa Pig Reward Chart landed (via terrified FedEx man) in my sweaty little hands. But what tasks to choose? "Was a good girl," seemed too vague, "stopped smashing the walls with metal cars" just too specific. "Ate dinner" too obvious, "kept pants on" too suggestive. I settled on achievable tasks with medium difficulty and maximum desirablility: "Obey Hollie (the babysitter)," "Drink milk (the girl just does not enjoy a bovine cocktail)," "Stay in bed (the biggie)," "No YELLING," and "Come get ready for school when asked (we're not in a socialist country anymore, and nursery time is beaucoup de tuppence)."
Peppa Pig, you'd better deliver my dream child or it's BLT time!The rewards: for 12 stars, a special ice cream at the stand in town; for 24, a "Peppa Pig present" (some junky prize from the Claire's Boutique on - no, I'm not making this up - Cheap Street); and for the grand total of 36, a movie - in the theater! Now that's a prize for everyone, especially if she can get her act together while Toy Story 3 is still in town! They just started running Whatever Works, the 2009 Woody Allen flick with Larry David, so I think our odds are pretty good. So far, so good – she gets the connection, although she tries to freelance a bit: "I made a pee-pee, that's three stickers!" "I didn't draw with Mommy's lip dip on the wall, that's four stickers!" But we are definitely seeing an increased appreciation for good behavior.
Today she hit 23 stickers, and I needed an outing, so I surreptitiously slid an extra star under "Drank milk" (a mum can dream) and off we went to Claire's Boutique. I managed to steer Jo away from Disney Princess nail decals and Hello Kitty spanky pants to the, yes, Peppa Pig section. "Don't you want a Peppa present?" I asked. "I want a Peppa Pig doll," Josie declared, brow furrowed. "How about Peppa sunglasses?" "No." "Oooh, Peppa fork-and-spoon set!" "No." "Peppa Pig ponytail holders?" "NO!" Star Jonesie tottered over to one of the salesgirls, imploring, "You have Peppa Pig dolls?" The salesgirl poked around a bit, apologized that they are quite popular, and offered to look upstairs for any remnants. She returned with a tagless, soiled pig that looked as though it had spent the winter lodged in a chimney or perhaps wandering our cave. Beaming, Josie declared the smudgy swine "perfect," and off we went. Her mood was so divine she even willingly accompanied me to Topshop to browse inappropriately young beachwear and to Marks and Sparks to buy new shades.
Back home, I gazed proudly at the star chart as though I had earned every sticker. Then I thought about what we had actually accomplished in these last eight weeks. If we had star charts of our own (mine would be Madonna. Jeff's would be that Bald Dude from the Shield. Chiclets.), what would they say?
FURNISHED FLAT: We landed in Bath in a nearly bare flat, coming from a furnished apartment in Paris. In just 8 weeks we've managed to acquire everything we need (from dishes to small appliances to couch, desk, lamps, bedding you name it), with our final chair and ottoman en route.
Don't you want to visit and have your breakfast here?FOUND FOODIE FIXES: England isn't the culinary wasteland we were warned it would be. Yes, we miss our favorite French restaurants (and of course, La Grande Epicerie) but there's plenty of good food to be had here. Our neighborhood pub, the Pulteney Arms, is perfect for a Friday night bite, especially in the courtyard on a beautiful evening. No. 5 is a lovely French-Med restaurant, and Yo! Sushi offers conveyor-belt Japanese fare. Not to mention the Bath Coffee Festival and last weekend's Food and Wine festival, which leaned heavily towards the cheese/sausage/ale side of things, but was still terrific. And the Brits love to eat, so there are sandwich stands and pasty bars pretty much everywhere, like in the lovely and serene Parade Gardens, where you can fight a duck for your overpriced sandwich.
Mmm.... whatcha got there, foie gras?TOILET-TRAINED JOSIE: OK, this one isn't UK-specific but is HUGE in the daily life of our family. She tried to start really early, at about 20 months (oh, those French!) and while it was a long road of oopses and half-hearted attempts, once solidly ensconced here in Bath it really only took 3 days of dogged effort. She's even sleeping through the night in "pants," which earned her a visit to the Disney store, where she chose this very odd, Huggabunch-reminiscent Belle doll.
Bribes as old as time, songs as old as rhyme...HOSTED PARTY: For the quite American-specific Fourth of July, no less! We served up PB &J, seven-layer dip, chocolate-chip cookies, and yes - a fantastic flag cake. We had about 20 new friends, many under the age of 10, and it was a lovely time. We even had a special guest pop by!
Look! It's Rocko Bamba!
I made this! And yes, I think the Barefoot Contessa is a sick, sick woman.PURCHASED APPROPRIATE TODDLER TRAVEL GEAR: When and if you visit England, you'll quickly notice that everyone between the age of 2 and 32 gets about on a scooter. No Big Wheels, no strollers, and apparently no walking. British kids get from A to B on a scooter - to be more specific, the Mini-Micro scooter. I stupidly dropped 20 quid on a Dora 3-wheeled disaster that had two large wheels on the back, so when Josie tried to move, her scooting foot (obviously) hit the back wheel. Once outfitted with the proper scooter (2 wheels in front), she was a scootin' fool. Check her out!
The weather here remains hot (too hot for the natives - today's play date has been moved indoors - and to a pool, so no one's complaining!) and beautiful. Tomorrow we're heading north on my long-awaited pilgrimage to Althorp, Princess Diana's childhood home and family estate. Prepare for lots of photos and weepy footage... Bon week-end, everyone!
