A little backstory may help. Screaming in tunnels is something Palomi loved to do. Driving through a tunnel twice a day with Palomi's set of pipes, we quickly got tired of it. In a moment of inspiration, I suggested we say something or sing something. So we had many months of random (and often invented) words, phrases, and sounds that we would sing or yell in the tunnel.
Recently, Palomi has each of us do a different sound while she repeats "Scream Mushroom". No idea where she got that phrase. John Cage, eat your heart out.
Palomi's language acquisition lends a new perspective on language. One thing she's very stuck on lately is that, as the videos show, she's "three year-olds." She's treating "year-old" as the noun, the plural being "year-olds." Or, possibly, "old" is the noun. And from how we use the term, that makes a lot of sense. The question is always, "how old are you?" Not, "how many years old are you?"
This time, researchers were able to take some measurements before releasing it back into the wild.
The measuring tape is a big hit. Palomi loves to be measured. Owen later measured the width of a door: "Fifty pounds."
And yes, as soon as Owen evidences an interest in something, Palomi immediately and desperately needs it. When we were discussing an upcoming haircut recently, Palomi said, "I want it short, like Owen." Thankfully, that didn't last.
It's been a musical month. We went to the annual Solano Stroll (Solano Avenue, just a few blocks from our house, is closed down and filled with booths and hundreds of thousands of people). Palomi, much enamored by the marching bands, especially the trumpet players, has led a few parades around the house, playing her toy trumpet. She calls it a "Solano Stroll."
Oma sent Palomi's Halloween costume a bit early and it was impossible to keep it off her. Every Wednesday in September, Albany hosted Music in the Park, just a few blocks from our house. So, we let her go to those events in her costume in exchange for not wearing the costume to daycare.
Palomi liked the bluegrass band, but she went absolutely nuts over the West African Highlife Band and Forro' Brazuca ("Accordion-Powered Brazilian Dance Music"). There were numerous sightings of a crazed giraffe dancing madly. She was actually a danger to others around her; I had to keep a close eye on her to keep her from crashing into other kids as she jumped and danced with unbridled energy. She would occasionally fall over and, acting as if it were all part of her dance, flail with her legs and feet, a huge smile on her face.
We try to give Palomi warm milk at bedtime, believing that it will help her get to sleep better. She insisted on cold milk the other night. After some back and forth, I suggested lukewarm ("lauwarme") milk. Without missing a beat, our master negotiator shot back her counter-offer: lukecold ("laukalt"). She got lukecold milk.
Her excitement is growing as the day approaches, as does her concern that others will blow out her candles. She suggested at one point that everyone get candles, so that they won't blow hers out. Chocolate cake is the other noteworthy item - no conversation of her birthday is complete without a mention of chocolate cake and blowing out her candles.
Palomi has been writing emails to various family members for quite a while now. In the beginning, she had a hunt-and-peck style, trying to spell out words (with Papa and Mama's help). She got quite good at "Palomi", "Oma", "Nana", "Nani", "Mama", etc. Now, she's emulating Papa and Mama typing, as you can see in the video, resulting in a lot of gibberish. She has retained her love for large lettering - she insists on typing in a large font, preferably in color.
[Editor's Note: Palomi originally said the email was for Opa before she changed her mind - that's why I kept asking to whom she was writing]
The second half of the video could use some explaining. Without the ability to lactate, I got used to being second fiddle to Mama very early on. After more than two years, things had evened out a lot, but there were still many areas where I was a distant second choice to Mama. One of the more regular reminders of my second-class status came every other evening. The response to "Who's doing night-night?" was sheer joy when the answer was "Mama" and bitter, sometimes tearful, disappointment when it was "Papa." One evening I had enough! As a true American, I decided that I need some spin, some dressing up of the message, an advertising campaign. The inspiration came from a most unlikely place - the verse in Raffi's version of "If you're happy and you know it", "if you're beautiful and you know it, shout Hurray!", which Palomi loved.
That evening "Who's doing night-night?" had a new answer. No longer would a simple "Papa" send Palomi reeling into unhappiness. The new answer was "PAPA! HURRAY!", said with more joyous optimism than any Madison Avenue shill could muster. This was a momentous sales job - Oh my god! Wow! You've won first place in the night-night competition! Here's Ed McMahon to tell you what you've won! - that's what I packed into those two words ("Hurray" morphed into "Juchheirassa" in my ongoing attempt to speak German with Palomi).
It worked. "got milk?" and Cabbage Patch Doll mania rolled into one. My enthusiasm seeped into her. Night-night with Papa became an event. It wasn't night-night with Mama, but it had its own appeal. Or maybe Palomi just loves to watch her Dad act funny.