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Nursery School No Big Deal

Young C started nursery school yesterday and I felt the first oh-no-my-baby’s-growing-up twinge since L’il I was born. It started to set in as I was hanging around for a little bit when we first arrived and he so clearly didn’t need me there — perhaps he didn’t even want me there. He cried everytime we dropped him off for the first few weeks of daycare last summer; yesterday he barely noticed when I left. I returned home and there was L’il I up on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth, on the verge of crawling and talking and nursery school herself. Or so it seemed.

This nursery school program is only two and a half hours long, twice or thrice weekly. It is hardly the trial of seperation that full-time daycare was. And the difference between two and three years of age is enormous. It’s no wonder he didn’t cry. In fact, we are reaching to be able to afford this program because he so clearly needs something. L’il I’s nap schedule and my desire/need to do some work during her naps means we’ve had to drop most of our routine morning outings. And even when we do get to the Early Years drop-in or a story time the average participant age is much closer to L’il I’s than it is to C’s. “There will be kids my age at my nursery school. Right, Mom?”

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Backwards Momentum

DAILY SNACK

She gets up on her knees and starts rocking.

She’s reaching forward,

Eyes focused on that toy.

The harder she tries,

The more she wants to crawl forward,

The further back she pushes herself.

She cries.

***

I change the garbage cans.

I bundle it all up tightly,

And put it on the back deck.

Garbage strike,

So I’ll have to drive it to the temporary dump site tomorrow.

The racoons tear open the bags,

And leave trails of garbage all over the deck.

***

I know baby girl.

The harder we try,

The further backwards we move.

I feel your pain.

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Fringekids! Eye Weekly Kids Venue Reviews of the Toronto Fringe

You aren’t able to search the Eye Weekly fringe reviews by venue. So here are the links to my reviews of the Palmerston Library kids’ venue.

From best to worst:

Chicken Licken 5 stars

As You Puppet 5 stars

Scaredy Kat 4 stars

Ancient Woods 3 stars

Kipling’s Just So Stories 3 stars

Rock Time 2009 3 stars

Derrick, Supreme Ruler of the World, and Mister Sock 2 stars

The Sleuth Sisters 1 star

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They’re Only 3 Once, So Take Advantage

DAILY SNACK

We were waiting in line for the requisite Canada Day hot dog,

When I noticed the swag table.

“Come with me, C,” and I took his hand,

Leaving Dad and L’il to keep our spots.

There was a basket full of paper flags.

You know the kind.

“Can I take three?”

One for me, one for Dad, and one for C.

Babies don’t get flags.

As far as Young C was concerned,

This was as good as it gets.

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Toronto Fringe Festival For Kids

I was ten or eleven years old the first time I saw a real play. It was a university production of Our Town and it was like nothing I’d ever seen. The set was minimal — a few props moved around on a black stage — and the acting was different from anything on tv or in the movies. The characters — their words, their movements, their emotions — were projected into the audience and part of you was carried up onto that stage. I loved it.

A few years later I happened upon an extraordinary drama program in an ordinary high school. My teacher, Kathleen Gallagher, went on to earn her PhD in theatre education and is now a professor at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education of the University (OISIE, as we like to call it). I studied drama under her in Grades 10 through 13 and learned everything from Stanislavski to set design. Perhaps most important was the introduction to a real local theatre scene such as we have in Toronto. Every year we would see one or two productions as a class, but also had to go to see plays on our own and submit critical reviews. (That’s how I learned about Pay What You Can Sundays at the theatre. Really, check it out.) It wasn’t just about acting, as so many high school drama programs are, but about all aspects of creating, critiquing and enjoying theatre. I thrived in those classes — we all did.

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These Boots Were Made for Splashing

DAILY SNACK

He wore shorts and a t-shirt and rain boots.

We left through the back door to get to the car.

There, as I knew there would be,

Was the widest, deepest puddle a kid could imagine.

Any bigger and we could fish in it.

“Be careful. If you jump too hard, your shorts will get wet.”

But he was off — and it was a mighty splash.

“Oh no … my shorts are soaking wet …”

Yes, dear. They are.