Hail to Dorothy!

Short on story ideas the other night at bedtime, I told Uta the story of the Wizard of Oz. He has never seen the movie (or even heard mention of it) so for him it was like uncovering a treasure in his own backyard. Uta has an insatiable hunger for stories. If you laid before him a cupcake and a story and asked him to choose one, he would chose the latter, again and again. But not just any stories, he calls them stories from the mouth, which means not read from a book. Stories from the mouth have limitless possibilities, can always be shaped to include him (his favorite literary character!) and are decidedly never ending. When I try to draw one to a close Uta always says 'next chapter please.' There are times when I feel completely burned out when it comes to thinking up stories, like now, like always, and old childhood tales are the perfect substitute. (Once I just told him everything I could remember about the Jetsons! Desperate times...) His favorite part from my retelling of The Wizard of Oz was the Lollipop Guilds welcome song to Dorothy after she 'landed'. He loved it so much that I went and downloaded the entire soundtrack. He wanted to hear all the munchkin songs first, and then we just let the rest play.

When Judy Garland began to sing Somewhere over the Rainbow Uta blushed. He grew bashful and turned an ear to ear grin towards the floor. What is it? I asked. "Is that Dorothy?" He wondered. Yes, I said. "She sings so beautifully." He was gushing, truly moved. "That is the most beautiful singing I have ever heard. "

This weekend we will watch the real movie. Its time to brave the monkeys...

How to get to Japan

According to Uta....

It takes about eight days by plane to go from New York to Japan. First you must fly past Puerto Rico and then over the Bronx Ocean. Then you will be in Japan. You will know you are in Japan because everyone will be really nice to you.

Play-date

Uta's friend Willa came for a play-date. She brought four stuffed cats with her, two pink and two grey. Uta feigned interest and then pulled Willa to his lego station and invited her to build robots. Willa flat out refused. They finally found common ground in the kitchen, both equally excited over the prospect of baking blueberry muffins. They measured and mixed, cracked eggs and coughed (both fighting the tail end of a cold sweeping through the first grade). They coughed so much they decided they were making Blueberry Cough Muffin. While the muffins baked, Uta and Willa ran about the apartment catching ghosts with a bicycle pump and about eight feet of dryer venting pipe. (By the way, the venting pipe was a gift from Uncle J, quite possibly the best care package ever. Nothing beats opening a box and finding oodles of shiny silver tubing, and other fun goodies. Thanks J, J, and M.)

First Strokes

Dance Fever

Last night our friends got married. Uta was in no mood for a wedding, he wanted to stay home and build legos, but finally he agreed to come because of the likelihood that he could eat cake. When he arrived he claimed a spot in the corner and buried his nose in a magazine. He then conveniently used the magazine to hide behind when people tried to talk to him. At six being antisocial is still sort of endearing and some how, before the music even started, Uta's dance card was full. When the music did start, it was Uta who sought out one of the girls who had promised him a dance and said 'Lets go.' From that point on he was unstoppable. No fewer than ten strangers came up to me and asked some form of the question, 'Where did he get those moves?' I have no idea. Certainly not from me or Papa H, we were the only two wallflowers in the place, quick to confess we lack two essential characteristics to being a success on the dance floor, rhythm and nerve. But you can bet we were sitting on the sidelines proud as punch to see our boy eons ahead of us, dancing up a storm. He danced with the bride. He danced with the groom. He danced with the mother of the bride and the best man. He danced with old ladies and little girls. (Auntie Jen would have been proud!) People actually formed a circle around him while he did the robot. At one point he froze mid move for a good twenty seconds, people stopped and waited, stared, then he busted into another round of robot. His timing was perfect. A serious fan of Weddings and Michael Jackson was born last night. Uta sang 'Beat it' to himself all the way home.

Uta grabbed the camera and danced off with it. Here are a few of the pictures he snapped.

This is perhaps the most valuable feature in our apartment. Its a 'start over' button. Well actually its a tiny piece of paper adhered to the wall with double stick tape that reads 'start over'. It was created on a day when Papa H and Uta were playing balloon volleyball in the living room. Uta lost. He was absolutely inconsolable in his despair. Losing graciously is an art that Uta needs some practice with. The start over button was all we could do to end the tears and play on. Since then it has come in handy often, not just for games lost, but any time Uta gets upset (like when a prized lego creation gets dropped). Pressing it enables Uta to drop the drama, save face, and simply begin again.

Cows, hay and dirt

Grandma S has moved to a farm. There are acres and acres of hay fields and cow pastures (cows included), crumbling and cavernous barns to explore, and heaps of wild cats that scramble and skirt about from one hiding spot to the next. Visits up north are like childhood intensives; my little city mouse gets good and dirty, runs far and free, and sees lots of firsts from nature. This trip's "firsts" included wild turkey spottings, wooly bear finds, and being spat at by a new born kitten just days old.



Uta's favorite spot on the farm is a great big pile of dirt. Simply heaven for a six year old boy.


Thanks for a great visit everyone!