C's Choices	GROWING	Buy This Book
		11/15/99

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We took the young ladies to Oakbrook Mall on Monday,  an outdoor center-court, California style mall, with lots and lots of flowers and fountains. "At the mall," Ainsley announced as we parked behind Sears.   We'd parked there once before about two months ago and she apparently remembered.   She does remember...  lots of unlikely things.   Especially things you've said you probably shouldn't have.  They are little tape recorders, both, but Ainsley's tape seems to be on some sort of perpetual random loop, usually accurate but sometimes surprising. And she is speaking more and more in complete sentences.  I don't know why it surprises me, but it does.  I guess it is the change from the broken language we'd just gotten used to:  "Boogabooga shirt purple."  seems a far distance from  "Ainsley's turn to go first." or today's  "Gege a good slider.  Nana, Savannah and Ainsley good sliders too." I put Ainsley down and tell her she'll have to hold my hand.  She grabs a finger and for the next hour or so she holds on at least half the time.   This is a great improvement over the past, when safety or direction of travel concerns dictated, she would have to be held onto while she tried to wrench her arm away. And at no time did she and I have any, repeat non, nada, not one, no differences of opinion about which way to go or where to stop and look.   I checked, but it did really seem to be the original and authentic Ainsley.  Dr. Mom later assured me she hadn't pulled a switch. So we had nothing but a pleasant time, picking the mall's flowers and playing in the water and looking in store windows.  We did go into the WTTW  kids ublic television store, but the girls are so well behaved it's embarrassing:  they take things down and play with them, sure.  But when they are done, or when you decide they are done and tell them to, they put the things back where they got them. Except for the book that Ainsley and I sat on the floor and read three times in a row.  I put it back.    She picked it up, held it out, and said, "Nana buy this book." Nana didn't, but I'd never heard her use the word before.  Obviously her mother's child.  As is her mother of her mother and her mother's mother of her mother.  Runs in the family. The pretty Miss Savannah is becoming more self assured in her dealings with the pushy one, frequently winning their battles.  Nothing like half the time, of course, but maybe 25 or 30 percent.  And while she has lost some of her suspiciousness of the world, she has gained in demonstrating her displeasure at it. Remember the lilting, rising, soprano voice of the hand puppet saying "No, Mr. Bill, Noooohh!"   Well, so does Savannah.   From somewhere she has dredged up this particular Nooohh! to display her horror and disbelief that you would suggest whatever it is you suggested that wasn't, according to her, a good suggestion.  Like sharing with Ainsley, getting a diaper changed, or wearing a particularly revolting choice of shoes. They both have a lower, drawn out and nasal sort of  naaoooww, said with a saddened shake of the head, that is to indicate humor.   "What does the pig say, Ainsley?"  "Bark bark"  "Bark?"  "Naaoooww."  and laughter. Same thing with square pegs and round holes.  Or picking up the letter L when you've asked for the letter D.  They know what's right, they just want to prolong the game and have some fun. They both have an angry no, one with really heartfelt emotion behind it.  Savannah's involved a short, clipped, definitive "No!" accompanied by throwing the nearest thing to hand as hard as possible.   Ainsley takes a deep breath,  pulls her little chest up, rises up on her toes, and says "No!" so hard,  with such a head toss,  with so much body English that she spins all the way around, then glares at you with reddened cheeks. It's not funny to either of them and you'd better not laugh, because neither of them likes to be laughed at. After all they're two years old this month.

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