Category: Lydia

The Lydster, Part 57: He Sees You When You’re Sleeping


This is the very first Christmas Lydia has spent in her own home. In prior years, we’d be at her grandparents’ house. But this is the first year she really has waiting on Christmas.

Her parents have told her relatively little about the whole Christmas tradition compared what she’s picked up from her friends. She knows, for instance, a whole bunch of Christmas songs that she learned at day care, some of which the kids sang at a local hospital’s geriatric unit. (“Going to see the grandmas and grandpas” is how it’s put.)

One of the songs she knows is “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” She may have known about it before from a “dancing snowman” one of my in-laws cursed us with a year or two ago. In any case, she’s taken the words to heart.

So much so that one day, the day after a night when Lydia was slow to get to bed, Lydia started crying uncontrollably for no obvious reason. After the paternal investigation, it came to light that she thought she wasn’t being very good the night before, that Santa could “see” that she was being “bad” and she would get no gifts for Christmas! I had to reassure her that she in fact was a good child and that Santa would not “stiff” her.

One of my pastors preached on his disdain for that particular song. It might have been based somewhat on that omniscient thing.

Still, a parent can be tempted, when a child is slow to wash her hands before supper or hasn’t picked up her toys to ask her, “Do you think Santa would think you are being good?” I’ve declined that option. This year.

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Merry Christmas

Some Christmas limericks from The Omnificent English Dictionary In Limerick Form

Christmas by Bob Dvorak (Bob Dvorak)

Though merchants may tally its worth,

Our reflections should turn to His birth:

Christmas celebrates when

God appeared among men

With a message of peace for the earth.

Christmas by Richard Stehr (Richard Stehr)

If I missed out on Christmas, perhaps

It’s because I was one of those chaps

Who had chances to be

Perched upon Santa’s knee

But, unfortunately, let them lapse.

Christmas by Charles Silliman (Charles Silliman)

By a star, the three wise men were led.

But they found, as they stood at His bed,

That the one brightest light

On that first Christmas night

Was the glow from the Son of God’s head.

Christmas by Dottie (Anne Clements)

There’s a brightly lit tree in the hall,

Lots of cards, all displayed on the wall.

Gifts are wrapped, shopping’s done,

Now it’s time for the fun—

Happy Christmas, dear friends, one and all!

Christmas by stella

May your Christmas be filled with delight;

May your tinsel be sparkly and bright;

May your crackers go pop!

May you eat till you drop;

And may you and your in-laws not fight.

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The Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, Many, MANY Faces of Santa Claus! by Fred Hembeck
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Kringus Offerings by Samurai Frog
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The arithmetic of Christmas: This person’s been talking about Christmas only since April. While it’s been less than 2% of my lifetime since last Christmas, it’s been over 20% of hers.

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The Lydster, Part 56: Too Shy

There are times when my daughter is bold and fearless. In her classroom, for instance, her teachers rave about how well she helps the newer students get acclimated. Other times, she just wants to retreat behind one of her parents.

Her favorite TV show – pretty much her ONLY TV show she watches on a regular basis, as we’re TRYING to limit her consumption – is something called Little Bear. It is based on some 1950s books by Maurice Sendak, for which, quite coincidentally, we received a three-in-volume volume of the book. Little Bear lives in the forest with his parents and has friends with Owl, Duck, Hen and Cat. The TV series was filmed in the 1990s in Canada.

Most of these stories she enjoys, but a few of them made her quite frightened: one with Father Bear arguing with the personified North Wind, a couple featuring goblins, which look more like Santa’s elves.

But the episodes cycle through and repeat after a number of weeks, and Lydia’s discovered that there’s nothing to fear from the wind or the goblins.

I was reminded that, last Christmastime, we were at a party. The kids went upstairs with an adult to play. As it turned out, they were watching Little Nemo. I went to check up on her, and I noticed my child, in ithe midst of a bunch of happy children, looking terrified. She ran to me, and I watched the remaining part of the movie with her, including the scary dentist scene, during which she buried her head under my arm.

It occurred to me while reading Tosy, who has two girls about Lydia’s age, that before we venture on showing Lydia the movie The Wizard of Oz, perhaps I ought to READ the story to her first. Interestingly, my wife has a friend whose daughter had seen the Wizard of Oz a half dozen times, or more, by the time she was THREE, and wasn’t afraid at all. I remember being still afraid of it at age seven; on the other hand, in a pre-video age, I saw it but once a year.

Ah, the power of repetition.

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The Lydster, Part 55: Politics and Race


Carol and I have never talked to Lydia about the Presidential campaign. Yet, because she’s been exposed to it from TV or her friends or whatnot, she knows that John McCain and Barack Obama are running for President. (She thinks that Hillary Clinton is still running, and I haven’t been able to dissuade her of that fact; I KNEW the primary season ran too long.)

Not only does she know this, but she can identify the three of them by sight, although she does sometimes confuse McCain with other gentlemen near his vintage, including Joe Biden.

She doesn’t know Sarah Palin, but I’ve heard her say to her stuffed animals/sisters, “I’m going to be governor of Alaska.” I have no idea what THAT’S about.

But there is one big disappointment: she supports McCain. I don’t know if it’s his avuncular look or what, but she’s glommed onto the GOP candidate. Just one more reason not to lower the age of voting to four years old.

I realize that we haven’t really talked to her about race. It was important for us to go to a mixed race church and for her to attend a mixed race day care, but we never talked about it overtly. I realized this when she referred to a woman in our church as a lady with “brown hair and brown skin.” (Which is why I’ve always had a difficult time believing that people don’t see race; it may not be important to them, but if a four-and-a-half year old picks up on it, as a matter of fact, then I suspect a universality to it.)

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The Lydster, Part 54: Party Planning.

Lydia’s fifth birthday isn’t for six months, but Carol and I are already thinking about it. Her fourth birthday was a family event, with her grandparents, two cousins, and uncle and aunt and her parents; all the relatives, BTW, are my wife’s, since mine are so far away. I was lobbying for more, since all of her friends had had an expanded roster of guests. Moreover, some of them had massive gatherings at a Chucky Cheese type place or a baseball training place, to name two that I attended. I’m not into competing with these, but on the other hand, I don’t want her to be always the one going to other parties.

Am I experiencing party envy? Not exactly. Wouldn’t want to have had to wrangle those big events. I think many of them invited the whole day care class, and that many children in one place under my responsibility, even with other parents there, would have made me verklempt.

I had heard this rule long ago: one should have for little child the number of children numbering their age plus one. So Lydia will have six friends at her next birthday at our house. This is a function too of the fact that her best friends don’t even go to to her daycare any more. Indeed, she had a [dreaded term] play date with two of them just this past Sunday.

Good thing she doesn’t read my blog; I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Meanwhile, happy four and a half, Lydia.

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