The Artist Formerly Known as Duck

It is disconcerting when your 21-month-old child starts asking for her precious love object, Duck, by his SPELLING. "Deeyooseekay? Deeyooseekay?" Are you kidding me? I know she can't spell, and I won't even get sidetracked by discussing the potential genius in this. Really, my focus is the inconvenience. Henceforth, he shall be known as "Pato." Next month: "Canard."

Ebenezer Lu

She may look like that sweet Seuss scamp, Little Cindy Loo Who (who was no more than two), what with her funny sparse pigtails and sweet smile. You know, the one who thawed the Grinch's heart and saved Christmas in Who-ville?

Well, forget it. Little Lucy Lu Who almost ruined Christmas for me today. Me, and a bunch of other people who wanted to gather politely and see Santa Claus and eat cookies and drink cider. Today was a party for all the kids and parents who have ever participated in the "T3 and Under" bring-your-baby-to-work program at my office. The plan: dress the baby up really cute, show her off a little, maybe be the centerpiece of heartwarming human interest story on the local news.

But no. TODAY, Little Lucy Lu Who, her heart a sooty lump of coal, threw the most epic fit ever. Forty-five minutes of aggressive, inexplicable crying and flailing as we were getting ready to go to the party (so much for the "really cute" part of the plan). After various stages of locking her in her room ("time out"=time for me to think about what I did to raise up such a wicked little Grinch), we were composed enough to get in the car and drive to work. Her socks did not match. Her face was puffy, her nose ran, and she was still in that spasm-y post-fit breathing. But she ate some Goldfish in the car, sang the only five lyrics of "Jingle Bells" she knows, and even smiled a little. Things were looking up.

That is, until we entered the conference room, crowded with charming children munching gingerbread and chatting up Santa. My bosses were there, along with a representative of the mayor's office, there to declare it "T3 Day" in honor of T3's contributions to working families. Little Lucy Lu Who screamed during the proclamation, "NO, NO LIKE IT, NO LIKE SINTA CLOS. OUTSIDE. GO BACK." I am pretty sure that is not going on TV.

Even though I am sort of mad at her about all this (yes, I know she is not even two, but I am her mother and I can be mad), I reflect on how I felt while I was at the mall on Saturday, pressed up against all that manic Christmas spirit, wanting to scream, "NO, NO LIKE SHOPPING. OUTSIDE. GO BACK."

Christmas: not for quitters or whiners.

School

It's time to think about Lucy's school. Notice: no quotes around school. This time, we are talking about real school, and where Lucy will go after she graduates from St. Luke's. Technically, it could be another daycare-like place and not school, per se. But when I saw a bunch of three-year-olds discussing what languages are spoken in Canada, I could only think of it as SCHOOL. And when I thought of how far behind Lu would be if we let her little brain languish amid daycare activites such as "storytime" and "playing," I knew it had to be school. There will be no playing. There will be only learning.

So we have decided to go with a little Montessori school in North Austin run by some nice Indian women. Not the actual school where the Canada lesson was going on, but a smaller, somewhat more relaxed place where the three-year-olds were having music class. Everyone at the school greeted Lucy warmly, and she confidently wandered into whatever activities were underway. They gave her animal cookies and a juice box. She kept saying "kids! kids!" We loved it, and we gave them some money to hold her spot for June.

I know it's just daycare/school/a safe place for her to spend her days, but it feels like a huge decision. One that will set the course of her academic and professional future. There's the issue of Montessori: maybe it's too rigid and academic for toddlers or very independent children? She may be expelled within a week (like Ben Cohen, Montessori drop-out and legendary misbehaver)! I have also heard that Montessori fosters so much self-directed learning that moving to more traditional settings can be hard (like Karen Longshore, Montessori graduate, wackily un-traditional).

Those arguments aside, the appeal of Montessori is the smarty-pants factor. I can't deny it — I want her brain to be big. Or at least give her as many opportunities as I can to grow it. Within reason, of course. My friend Pam, whose twin daughters will also be going to this school, told me she'd heard that the other place (three-year-olds and geography) makes you sign a contract that you won't let your child watch TV. Uh...no. This reinforces my deep fear that TV is making the baby stupid, but I would gladly sacrifice a few academic accomplishments for the peace that only Elmo brings. So we are going to the kinder, gentler Montessori school. And anyway, it's English and French. Duh.