Four Cows

With Joshua on my arm and the phone in one hand I walk into the kitchen. I open the kitchen cabinet where we have taped up a paper with some phone numbers. I want to phone my mother who should be at work now. From the cabinet three Lego cows in a row stare down at us. Joshua gives out some exciting noises and starts jumping up and down on my arm. I laugh and takes the cows down to him. He clutches all three between his chubby hands and casts me a happy glance before he wants down. Soon he is immersed in play with the cows.
Questions the children may ask:
What did the cows do up in the cabinet in the first place? And where is the fourth band member? The little cute brown one?
Questions the mother may ask:
How can four Lego cows (two white with black blobs and two brown ones) be the most exciting toys in our lives? And the fact that we have one cow for each small hand: why is it that they cannot be shared?
We are proud owners of two dangerous lions (only cubs but hey, still sharp teeth), an ice bear, a giraffe, a black shiny horse named Lukas, a grey cat, a rooster and, not to forget, a little grey elephant. All exciting, fierce creatures, I say. I for one would not liked to be picked at by a angry rooster, would you? But in the world of Maja and Joshua these animals are nothing compared to four grass chewing mammals with pink nipples that say moo.
The cows go boat riding, get washed, are tucked in on a flat pillow with a scarf as a blanket. Basically - they live an ideal toy life. When Maja is in Kindergarten, Joshua's little hands carries two of them around. He sometimes take them for a ride in his wagon. These cows are happy cows indeed.
At times they have to confine to a dark inside of a cabinet. Is it an easy price to pay to be a favorite toy? I imagine that they are smiling down at us every time the light hits them.
The rest of the day we will search for the lost one. Maja will not rest until he is safely back in her care again. Then all of them will take a bath before bed.
I wish I had my own cow.

The Blonde

Aware of surroundings - cannot find worm

I have started a new life. The image of this life is me sitting still and observing a pale green worm slowly crawling on a shiny big leaf. Sadly the essence of November renders it impossible to actually find a fresh worm sliding up on a new strong leaf. I will close my eyes and try not to equal my particular worm with that of The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle - I have to have some imagination of my own - and with some luck I will enter a superior state of zen or whatever. Oops I forgot, Joshua wants to ride his Winnie the Puh car around in the flat. He pulls on my pyjama pants and makes noises (they are a bit like mating noises of some birds in the wild - push back that notion and please continue) - impossible to ignore. What is it with our children's enormous ability to get our attention? That must be a strong drive by both of us: Joshua to get my attention and me giving it in all situations. Like yesterday when I picked up the receiver to phone a particular good friend that I have not talked to for a few weeks.
Maja is playing nicely in her room, Joshua is busy emptying the contents of the kitchen drawers (he looks like out of a cartoon where he stands bent over the drawer and throws things over his shoulder on to the floor) and I am actually standing in front of the espresso machine contemplating if I should venture a try for a double cappuccino or not. I see the golden moment and picks up the phone instead, coffee can wait - I never make good ones anyway.
My friend and I speak about three lines each before my children's radar has started to shake in indignation that their particular mother is not paying them them full attention:
What?! She is no longer observing us. Can that be? What about all that crap about green worms creeping up leaves??? She should be in quiet observation right now. We have to do something about this. NOW.
And they do. Brilliantly. Maja has one of her worst fits ever, screaming, kicking and hitting me, Joshua and everything in her way. I try to ignore it and listen to my friend's very disturbing account of her eldest daughter trying to combat swine flu. At one point I am holding up the door handle to Maja's room to prevent her coming out. My god she is strong! She must be hanging with all her sixteen kilos on the handle. Joshua is standing at my legs, clutching my jeans and crying his eyes out. His face is red and his cheek very hard and pointy.
What do I do? I contemplate running upstairs, shutting the bedroom door and ignore the fact that I have children at all. But I guess I am a woman with some sense of propriety and instead I tell my friend that I will call her back. Obviously it is impossible to leave Joshua alone. I sigh and hang up.
Worms, think worms. This is an opportunity for growth. Take it. Go in there with a humble countenance and try to understand her. Be her. A three-year-old that is angry, tired and only wants mother's attention - or something like that.
I have a godsend thought. I will ask her what I can do for her. What does Maja want? What could this little child with her red eyes, scruffy hair and a array of different types of clothing want?
This question takes her back for a while long enough to calm her down. She ponders for a while. I renew my invitation to do something for her and she looks at me. Her face is soft and wet.
"Do you see my tears?", she asks.
"I see your tears", I answered.
The rest is history. Happy to say it worked. An hour later I phone my friend again. Joshua is napping and Maja is constructing a farmhouse out of Lego. My friend and I were able to talk for thirty one minutes and twenty six seconds.
It pays out to master the art of empathy. A lesson in the worm-finding business.

The Blond Chick