Suitcases, sausages and sauce

The Dancing Queen is all very excited about the fact that she is off to New Zealand in six weeks time for a holiday.  She has proudly told me that she has in fact told the whole school how excited she is about her upcoming trip.  And I also know for a fact how excited she is because she tells me at least half a dozen times a day and sometimes three or four times in the same hour.  Word for word. And I must admit after the fourth time that day it is hard to find the right degree of enthusiasm. She also enthuses about bringing the date of the trip forward to tomorrow so she does not have to wait "hours" (again the time comprehension issue) and some days I also think that sounds a good idea as I am not sure how I am going to go with the same conversation for the next six weeks.

Along with the excitement about the upcoming trip is the need for her to pack her suitcase which at this point in time is staying firmly ensconced on the top shelf of an inaccessible cupboard.  Because if I allow her to pack it (and repack it and repack it and repack it) it means she will not be able to wear those particular clothes for the next six weeks which may create a few clothing shortage issues for starters.  I also have memories of her as a four year old trying to do a runner with a suitcase being dragged behind her down the street as she attempted to walk to the airport (less than 10 kms away from where we were living at the time) just because she wanted to go on a plane that day. And the scary thing is that if allowed, she would have walked all the way there (complete with her bob the builder pink suitcase and its broken wheels) and demanded to get on a plane.  So no suitcases allowed at this early stage.

Of course along with the incessant need to pack the suitcase is the need to figure out what is to go into the suitcase.  I am trying very hard to explain that New Zealand customs may take a dim view of some Australian foodgroups so the next line of (repeated) conversation is the fact that as soon as we get settled into my parents place in NZ we will go to the supermarket to stock up on RED sausages (she does not like the brown ones but will eat under protest if no red ones available), tomato sauce and shredded tasty cheese, all staple food groups in their own right (along with apples).   I would hate to calculate how many tonnes of cheerios and cheese has been washed down by gallons of tomato sauce over her life to date.  All I do know is that the rest of us in this household can not look at a red sausage without groaning and I am quite convinced my eldest daughter's current favourite foods of calamari and curry (not together) is in direct rebellion to sausage consumption.

So lets just hope the next six weeks flies by.

What's the time Mr Wolf?

This morning's question from the Dancing Queen as I was brushing my teeth and trying to get out the door for the school run was "Mummy, how old am I going to be when Daddy dies?".  Now given the circumstances, I must admit I did not give the question a proper answer. (In fact, I often go to bed at night feeling guilty for not giving her questions due consideration or the answers they probably deserve).

But what got me was the need for a definitive answer when in nearly every other circumstance she has no concept of time whatsoever. She was never the sort of child you could count down the number of sleeps to a significant event.  To her an hour represents eternity, so don’t even bother mentioning the concept of days or weeks while months are very much a no-go area.  She can even complain bitterly about a five minute time stretch. I used to joke that instant gratification was just too slow for my Dancing Queen.

Yet she loves numbers.  At age three she could hardly say the word "mummy" but she could count to 30 no problems.  So why the mental block when it comes to processing anything that can't be achieved instantaneously?

The other puzzling issue about her sense of timing issue is you just have no idea of when an event actually occurred.  Lots of her stories start with "last week, back back back when I was little....." by which time you are already scratching your head going "huh????"  The other night was a classic example.  On going to bed she was in tears about an issue her teacher had raised and very much wanted to help resolve a supposed problem.  However on going to the teacher the next morning, I actually found out that the conversation in question had taken place ten days earlier with the problem now well and truly resolved.  She just processes things at a very different speed to us so you are never exactly sure what has been absorbed let alone digested.  Saying that, I have learnt the hard way never to underestimate her processing abilities.

Sleep baby sleep!

Today's wake up call was at 4.53am.  Now that the Dancing Queen can read the time, she can tell me exactly what time she wakes me up.  That came on top of two earlier wake ups last night, though I did not bother to check the time of those.  Having left her just after 10pm, my brain did not want to calculate whether it got a 4 hour stretch of sleep or not. 

What always fascinates/perplexes me is how little sleep she requires.  And what sleep she does get, does not appear to be of the restful slumberland variety.  Sometimes I am not really joking when I say that the Dancing Queen does not have a off switch.  Even when is she is asleep, she is not in off mode. That over active brain off hers does not appear to shut down, and she will continue to have indepth conversations even when asleep, often with more than one person.  The body does not cease its relentless activities either - she kicks and turns all night and most nights can destroy the bed at least a few times. I feel sorry for the teddy bears that inhabit her room - they usually end up seeking refuge under the bed.

At the same time however, if she does ever fall into that deep deep sleep, I worry that she may be unwell as it is almost incredulous that she is so still.  The only other time she is that quiet and peaceful is just as she is about to drift into her own world.  In those instances, she does appear to shut everything down before she vacates this planet.  It then becomes a case of don't bother knocking, as nobody is home.  But once again, she appears happy and content in her own space so where possible we let her be. It would be nice to think she did actually achieve some downtime while absent in her alternative world.