Baby Squared : toddler artwork

Activity of the Week: Happy Birthday To You

Roper — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 11:06:00 GMT

I haven't done an 'Activity of the Week' in a while, I guess because with the weather being better and the girls being more self-sufficient, it hasn't been as much of a challenge to figure out ways to keep them entertained. And actually, this particular activity is one that they pretty much came up and do all by themselves. I just keep them supplied with the necessary materials, and suggest helpful enhancements from time to time, when they'll let me.

See, Clio and Elsa are obsessed with birthdays. This began shortly after their own birthday, back at the end of the December, and kicked into high gear when they went to their friend Amelia's 2nd birthday in Februrary. The obsession has manifested itself in a variety of ways: first, they just sang the Birthday Song constantly. Then, they started constantly asking for / calling everything sweet "Happy to you" cake. (We successfully introduced the idea of *pretend* happy to you cake, as well.) Then, for a while, they wanted us to draw birthday cakes for them. If you looked through our recycling bin anytime this March through May, you would find page upon page of crayon drawings of birthday cakes -- usually double tiered, with lots of fancy, squiggly decorations, and candles, of course. (I really honed my birthday cake-drawing technique. If for some reason you ever need a drawing of a birthday cake, I'm your gal.)

Now, the big birthday activity is making "Happy birthday to yous" -- their term for birthday presents. It's quite simple: you take a piece of paper, draw on or a put a sticker on it if you like, and carefully crumple it up. Then, you hand it to the nearest adult and say "I made you a happy birthday to you!" As the lucky adult recipient, it's your job to say, "Oh, wow! It's beautiful! Thank you!" and carefully unwrap it to reveal -- nothing. (I tried, once, to introduce the idea of wrap little things up inside their "presents" --- toys, legos, etc. -- but that just pissed them off. They obviously know what they're doing.) One thing I have contributed to this game, which they like, is giving them new materials to work with -- aluminum foil, construction paper, wrapping paper scraps, pages torn from old magazines, bows, etc. This, they like. But pretty much, they just like me to hang out and do my own thing -- check email, do the dishes, sweep the floor, etc. -- while they work, then act very excited when they hand me the treasure they've created. It's a pretty freakin' good activity.

We added birthday hats to the mix yesterday, which as a hit, until Clio snapped herself with the elastic.

Happy to you!!

Thanks, by the way, to everyone for your sage thoughts and advice on my last post. It's great hearing about different people's experiences and perspectives. I think those who said that a happy mom = a better mom really hit the nail on the head. I am definitely more patient and focused with the girls when I feel like I'm getting the time and space I need for my writing. It would make me so proud -- and I hope it would make them proud, too -- to one day be able to show Elsa and Clio a book and say, "Your mommy wrote this." And tell them that they can and should do what they can to follow their bliss in life, too, whatever it may be. (Birthday party planning, perhaps?)

My stinky winky daughters

Roper — Sun, 31 May 2009 20:53:00 GMT

I thought that the whole phase of finding it funny to say things like "stinky poo poo" and "Pee-yew, stinky winky" and so on, came later. Like, at three or four or later. When the sense of taboo around these kinds of things was a little more developed. But apparently, two-and-a-half is not too young for kids to have a sense of the silly stinkies.

As usual, of course, we are partly to blame, for asking such stupid things as "who made a stinky poo poo?" And their regualr babysitter is apparently a big "Pee-yew"er, because sometimes when I change the girls' diapers or take their socks off they'll say "Pee-yew!" followed by a giggly "Adriana say that!" I suspect she is the one who put "stinky winky" into their vocabularies as well, because I don't recall either Alastair or I ever saying it. But this morning, the girls were drawing all manner of stinky-winky animals: a stinky winky penguin, a stinky winky whale, a stinky winky sheep. Our friend the stinky stinky bat was back, too.

But really, the stinky winky poo poo stuff is only one part of a recent language explosion that seems to have taken place. In the last week or two the girls' verbal skills have taken another quantum leap, and all of a sudden -- wow. They're yakking up a storm. Talking in full sentences and conjugating verbs like little madwomen. Starting to really get the concepts of past and future tense, even if they don't quite yet have a solid concept of time. Building their vocabularies daily. The things that come out of their mouths are constantly surprising me. (A recent favorite: after the girls got up from a nap, I was commenting on the girls' hair being a mess. Elsa held her hair out to the sides and said "My hair is WILD!!")

I'm feeling quite jealous right now of parents I know who are bringing their kids up bi- or tri-lingually, because it's so clear that this is the optimal time for kids to soak up a foreign language. We obviously can't do the full language immersion thing with our girls -- well, I suppose I could start speaking only my intermediate-level Spanish or French to them, but it would severely limit what I could actually say. I have no idea, for example, how to say "stinky stinky bat" in Spanish. In French, I think I could manage "Chauve-souris tres, tres malodorant," but it just doesn't have the same, peurile ring to it, now does it?

But I'm thinking of getting some Spanish language music CDs and maybe some DVDs. (Any good recommendations? Besides the Muzzy program, which is, like, a million dollars?) And when they girls are a little older, there are some Spanish language playgroups and music classes around here that they could do. I'm also going to keep on encouraging their sitter to do some Spanish with them -- giving her some Spanish books and games to work with would probably be helpful. And yes, yes, French would be nice too, of course, as would countless other languages, but I'm sticking with what's most practical for now. So, pipe down, all you Francophiles out there. (That includes you, Grandma, rolling in your grave because you think French is the "international language," and because, let's face it, you were kind of a bigot.)

In the meantime, we will continue to work on expanding our lexicon of English words for bodily functions, odors and excretions. Poop-o-rific!

The stinky winky sisters! (featuring my recent hatchet job of Clio's bangs and Elsa's WILD hair)

A Toddler Art Critique with Enaj Repor

Roper — Wed, 06 May 2009 17:49:00 GMT

In my last post, I mentioned some of the quips Clio and Elsa made recently while we were drawing pictures. And, of course, the only thing more fascinating than hearing about the adorable things other people's kids say is looking at their fabulous artwork, right? But instead of just blathering on about Elsa and Clio's blossoming artistic abilities, I thought I would change things up a little by inviting world-renowned toddler art critic and scholar Dr. Enaj Repor (she's, um.....Turkish) to provide her professional commentary on some of the girls' recent work. So, without further ado: Enaj?

Thank you, Jane. Greetings, Baby Squared readers. I'm mildly pleased to be here. Before I discuss the specific works in question, I'd like to make a few comments on toddler art in general, specifically that of toddlers in the 24 to 30 month-old range, into which Elsa and Clio fall. At this age, children are not yet capable of representational art. Except in very rare cases (see my book, Look, Mommy, it's a Cantilevered Bridge: Studies in Accelerated Juvenile Artistic Development, 2002) they lack the necessary eye-hand-mind coordination to recreate recognizable images and objects.

Their drawings are, however, far from the "scribbles" they're often written off as by amateurs. The capacity for abstract expressionism in toddlers, while not a conscious aesthetic decision, is, in fact, quite remarkable. By examining the drawings of a two-year old, one (and by one, I mean me and only me) can ascertain a great deal about their inner lives, temperament, and worldview. One (still me) can also predict -- with a surprising accuracy -- the arc of their future creative development.

I'd like to preface my commentary by noting that I have not met either of the artists, or read anything else on this blog, so my interpretations are based purely on the work itself. Of course, these are only the interpretations of one person. But that person is me, ergo they are correct. Try to keep up.

Untitled

Elsa Moock, 2009

Crayon on paper

A profusion of swirling lines; open curves; use of the entire canvas -- all of these indicate an expansive, outgoing temperament. The lines are of varying weights, but appear to be continuous -- that is to say, the crayon is rarely lifted from the paper -- suggesting that the work was created quickly, in the style of a gesture drawing. (Perhaps this work is part of a series?) I would surmise that the artist is a risk taker, perhaps impulsive in her behavior at times, with impressive gross motor skills. A real sense of "carpe diem" here. Any representational intentions the artist might have had were not fulfilled, owing to the developmental limitations I mentioned earlier. However, I do get the distinct sense that what she might have been trying to draw here is a stinky, stinky bat.

Untitled

Elsa Moock, 2009

Crayon on paper

A similarly expansive style: large shapes, swift crayonstrokes. A slightly less fluid look overall, suggesting that perhaps this piece was, in fact, drawn before Untitled number 1 -- a sort of "warm up," if you will. One imagines the cacophonic but strangely pleasing sound of a tuning orchestra. Most notable in this work, however, are the orange lines which, judging from their texture and more controlled shape, were drawn by a different hand, most likely that of an adult. The (toddler) artist is clearly comfortable with a collaborative approach to art. (Note what appears to be a primitive attempt to "color in" the circle that the adult drew, toward the bottom of the page.) I wouldn't be suprised if, in the future, this artist moved toward more ensemble-oriented pursuits, e.g. theater, dance, community organizing, rugby, etc.

Untitled

Clio Moock, 2009

Crayon on paper

Even without looking at the name it's quite obvious (even to a layperson, I would hope) that we're looking at the work of a different toddler artist. Note the prominence of tight, compact crayonstrokes, quite intentional in their orientation and varying degrees of darkness. This style suggests an artist of intense emotion and singular focus; I would not want to have to deal with a tantrum from this one. But note also the playful experimentation with different kinds of line, shape and weight. There's an underlying humor to this piece -- like a twinkle in the eye of a dragon. As for the black lines on the paper, they may have been added as an intentional tonal contrast. It's also possible that they were there before the artist began her work, or were added by her sister. If it's the latter, I suspect it didn't go over too well. There's no "I" in team (or in "Elsa" for that matter), but there most definitely is one in "Clio."

Untitled

Clio Moock, 2009

Crayon on paper

Here, the artist's focus grows even more intense. The viewer is confronted with an intricate explosion of color and texture which, though it looks hastily made, is actually quite a time consuming process for a child under 36 months. Again, it's not entirely clear whether or not the other lines on the page -- the black, green, brown and blue -- are Clio's own additions, or those of a second hand. However, from the way it limns the "epicenters" of the red forms, the black line seems likely to be an intentional choice of the artist. Note the way it tapers off and shrivels to an end, in a sort of a graphic whimper -- a striking contrast to the "bang" the rest of the piece delivers. This artist shows great, if enigmatic, potential. If she does not pursue the visual arts, cardiovascular surgery or standup comedy are likely alternatives.

Thus ends my commentary. I am not interested in your puny opinions on my interpretations, and I am certainly not interested in hearing about your children's work. But I suppose Jane might be.