A year or so ago, my girls were mired in knock-knock jokes. Donovan, at age two, latched on to one in particular: Interrupting Cow. Not only did he find it funny, he was exceedingly proud of himself for being able to participate in the joke telling. If you're not familiar, the joke goes like this:
Knock knock!
Who's there?
Interrupting cow
Interrup-
MOOOO!!!
Of course, he was barely two so he was unable to pronounce all of this, but "Iddleduddle tow" was even funnier.
Time passed, knock-knock jokes fell out of favor, new forms of humor ensued. Tonight, we were all in a silly mood, and I asked Donovan to tell me a joke.
D: "So, there's a cow knocking on the door..."
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Harry Potter and the Captivated Muggles
Late to the party, I was pregnant with Eliana when I figured out that the Harry Potter books weren't just for kids and decided I wanted to read them. As we know, pregnancy does strange things to people, so I thought I'd wait until this baby I was about to have was old enough to read them with me. (This probably had something to do with my mother telling me how much more fun Disneyland is when you bring your children with you.) I may not have made this decision if I'd had any clue what a cultural phenomenon the books and movies were becoming, but I stuck to it once it was made. Having two subsequent children and beginning my midwifery apprenticeship helped with the persistence, I'm sure.
When Eliana turned six, I asked her to let me start reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to her. She refused, knowing just enough about it to be convinced it would be terrifying. On her seventh birthday, I asked again, and was rebuffed again. On her eighth, I put my foot down. "Eliana Rose, you will sit in my lap, you will put your blankie on your nose if you need to, you can close your eyes in sheer terror, but you will be reading this book with me." We sat together and read the first chapter.
That very night, she purloined the book, and finished it completely without me before I was able to steal the book back and start the second chapter. By the time I had enough time to myself to finish the second chapter, she was on book four.
Then I started my sabbatical. Aha. I caught up, and passed her. She was still on book four (which is more than half again as long as book three, to her credit) by the time I finished book five. She somehow guilted me into promising not to read more than one book ahead of her, but I bribed my way out of that for a quarter per book. (Kid's motivated by money; fortunately for me, not savvy about its value yet.) So, I've finished them all, and she's just about to wrap up book four. We have a rule that you have to read a book before you see its film adaptation, so at this point she's seen movies one through three. She was insistent, despite my warnings that the books became increasingly mature and dark, that she was old and brave enough to continue on through the entire series, reading each book and watching each movie.
Until, on page 640 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: "Mom, I changed my mind. The movie will be too scary at the end."
"OK, honey. Thanks for being responsible about that. You know, books five through seven have a lot of parts to them that are as scary as the end of book four. They get sadder too."
"That's okay. I can read them, but I just won't see them. I'll see The Goblet of Fire when I'm nine or ten, and The Deathly Hallows maybe when I'm sixteen."
As for me, I loved the books. I read a review that described them as being as funny as Roald Dahl and as vivid as Narnia, and I think that's apt, except for Narnia got less enjoyable for me as the series went on, whereas the final Harry Potter felt like the raison d'etre for the previous six books. None of the books alone stands as my favorite book of all time, but I can't think of a better series. Rowling managed to write 4000 pages of staggeringly imaginative and cohesive fiction.
I have to thank her, too, for helping me parent. As evidenced in previous posts, I've had my challenges discovering the best tactics to approach mothering Eliana in all her strength, vulnerability, self-criticism, intelligence, and explosiveness. Humor has always been one of my best allies. Laughter - the kind of laughter that comes from a mature, developed mutual understanding of intelligent humor - has forged a connection between us that helps us handle the rough moments. With this connection, she forgives my responsibility to hold her accountable, and I've found a salve for the painful aspects of mothering this complex creature.
So, I've begun taking points from Gryffindor as a warning that she's crossing a line, inching toward an actual consequence. She stops in her tracks, and instead of being angry with me for policing her, she laughs. Sometimes she'll say, "Mom, Gryffindor's not real, it doesn't matter," but she understands that it's not supposed to be real... yet. It's just a nicer way of saying, "You're pushing it, kid."
We also talk in terms of spells. When she can't find something, I remind her not to cast a disillusionment charm unless she can remember the counter-spell. I threaten to cast a tickling charm if she keeps dilly-dallying. Or, "Watch out. Touch that, and I'll levi your corpus."
As for general connection maintenance, I've been hunting down Harry Potter humor. It's abundant on the web - if you're okay with sexual content and cursing. Harder to find humor appropriate for eight year olds. Eliana has much appreciated my finds (as have I). Here are my favorites:
"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Just say Voldemort. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
(Eliana laughed riotously before the word "who" was even out of her mouth.)
Then I got her with
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Yes, avada kedavra!"
("Oh, that's a good one too, but it's not as nice.")
Also:
I hope Kesenia and Donovan have this much fun when it's their turn to enter the world of wizards.
When Eliana turned six, I asked her to let me start reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to her. She refused, knowing just enough about it to be convinced it would be terrifying. On her seventh birthday, I asked again, and was rebuffed again. On her eighth, I put my foot down. "Eliana Rose, you will sit in my lap, you will put your blankie on your nose if you need to, you can close your eyes in sheer terror, but you will be reading this book with me." We sat together and read the first chapter.
That very night, she purloined the book, and finished it completely without me before I was able to steal the book back and start the second chapter. By the time I had enough time to myself to finish the second chapter, she was on book four.
Then I started my sabbatical. Aha. I caught up, and passed her. She was still on book four (which is more than half again as long as book three, to her credit) by the time I finished book five. She somehow guilted me into promising not to read more than one book ahead of her, but I bribed my way out of that for a quarter per book. (Kid's motivated by money; fortunately for me, not savvy about its value yet.) So, I've finished them all, and she's just about to wrap up book four. We have a rule that you have to read a book before you see its film adaptation, so at this point she's seen movies one through three. She was insistent, despite my warnings that the books became increasingly mature and dark, that she was old and brave enough to continue on through the entire series, reading each book and watching each movie.
Until, on page 640 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: "Mom, I changed my mind. The movie will be too scary at the end."
"OK, honey. Thanks for being responsible about that. You know, books five through seven have a lot of parts to them that are as scary as the end of book four. They get sadder too."
"That's okay. I can read them, but I just won't see them. I'll see The Goblet of Fire when I'm nine or ten, and The Deathly Hallows maybe when I'm sixteen."
As for me, I loved the books. I read a review that described them as being as funny as Roald Dahl and as vivid as Narnia, and I think that's apt, except for Narnia got less enjoyable for me as the series went on, whereas the final Harry Potter felt like the raison d'etre for the previous six books. None of the books alone stands as my favorite book of all time, but I can't think of a better series. Rowling managed to write 4000 pages of staggeringly imaginative and cohesive fiction.
I have to thank her, too, for helping me parent. As evidenced in previous posts, I've had my challenges discovering the best tactics to approach mothering Eliana in all her strength, vulnerability, self-criticism, intelligence, and explosiveness. Humor has always been one of my best allies. Laughter - the kind of laughter that comes from a mature, developed mutual understanding of intelligent humor - has forged a connection between us that helps us handle the rough moments. With this connection, she forgives my responsibility to hold her accountable, and I've found a salve for the painful aspects of mothering this complex creature.
So, I've begun taking points from Gryffindor as a warning that she's crossing a line, inching toward an actual consequence. She stops in her tracks, and instead of being angry with me for policing her, she laughs. Sometimes she'll say, "Mom, Gryffindor's not real, it doesn't matter," but she understands that it's not supposed to be real... yet. It's just a nicer way of saying, "You're pushing it, kid."
We also talk in terms of spells. When she can't find something, I remind her not to cast a disillusionment charm unless she can remember the counter-spell. I threaten to cast a tickling charm if she keeps dilly-dallying. Or, "Watch out. Touch that, and I'll levi your corpus."
As for general connection maintenance, I've been hunting down Harry Potter humor. It's abundant on the web - if you're okay with sexual content and cursing. Harder to find humor appropriate for eight year olds. Eliana has much appreciated my finds (as have I). Here are my favorites:
"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Just say Voldemort. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
(Eliana laughed riotously before the word "who" was even out of her mouth.)
Then I got her with
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"You know."
"You know who?"
"Yes, avada kedavra!"
("Oh, that's a good one too, but it's not as nice.")
Also:
I hope Kesenia and Donovan have this much fun when it's their turn to enter the world of wizards.
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