Baby Book Review: Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site

Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site by Sherri Dusky Rinker

Little Man has always loved his books, but it's only been a month or so since we've added full stories to his bedtime routine. At night, he knows he gets to pick out a book and we read it cover to cover (at least once, usually three or four times). It has been fun to watch the transition from him "reading" his baby board books to reading a "big kid" book to him at night.


For the past week, Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site has been his book of choice. We picked it up at the library (another perk of being old enough to read big boy books is choosing a few from the library each week), and when it comes time to return it, I believe we'll be picking up a copy of our own.


The full page illustrations by Tom Litchenheld depict big, tough trucks wrapping up their day at the construction site and getting ready for bed. I like it because the drawings are realistic enough that they aren't cartoonish, but there's a little touch of whimsy here and there--like the nightlight that hangs off the crane truck when he goes to sleep.


The story has a great rhythm to it, describing what job each truck does and saying, "shh, goodnight," to each one as the sun goes down. The rhymes are catchy, and I have easily read it enough times to have it memorized, but don't find it annoying to read over and over.


This is a great night time transition book for any little guy who is into trucks--or for any parent that's looking for a switch from Goodnight Moon or something of the like.

Seeing Red

A few weeks ago, Little Man pointed to a taxi parked outside the library.

"Dada," he said.

"Dada is at work, remember?" I told him, grasping his chubby little hand tighter while we climbed up the stairs, as his attention was now focused wholly on the taxi and not where his feet were going.

"Dada!" He said stubbornly.

"See the person in the car? That's a lady. That's not Dada," I said. My son gave me a look. The look clearly said, Mother. You aren't listening to me. Very patiently, he led me to the taxi, touched the bumper and said slowly (as if he were talking to someone a few french fries short of a happy meal), "Da.Da." It was then that I realized Little Man was telling me that this taxi looked like what his father drove, a yellow sports car. "Oh!" I said. "That's right! This car is yellow, just like Daddy's car."

Little Man looked terribly relieved that I had figured out what he meant. Or perhaps it was relief that his mother wasn't as slow as she was acting. Either way, we waved bye-bye to the taxi and went about our business at morning storytime. When we came home, I tested Little Man's newfound knowledge looking at one of his picture books. "What's yellow like Daddy's car?" I asked him. He searched for a moment and found a page with a yellow duck.

Later that night I simply asked him, "what's yellow?" and he dug around in his hotwheels box until he found a yellow car. A few days later he brought a book to his Nana, opened it, and pointed to a red balloon. "Red," he announced. She, of course, proclaimed him to be the genius we all know he is, and thus has started Little Man learning his colors.

He takes hunting for colors very seriously. We've had success with identifying blue and green, but it's red that really gets him worked up. Ask him to find you something red in a book, and then get comfortable--he goes page by page, pointing to every red object he comes across. He might even go get another book and keep looking for red things, just to make sure you really get it, in case--like his mother--sometimes you're a little slow.

I Hold These Truths to be Self Evident: Volume Three

As the mother of a not-quite two year old boy, I hold these truths to be self evident:

--When I reach for my debit card at the grocery store, I have to pull out three or four matchbox cars to get to my wallet.

--The aforementioned matchbox cars are also found in all sorts of other places: the bathtub, the toaster, under my pillow. As a matter of fact, there is one sitting next to my laptop as I type.

--That just because other people have children my age doesn't mean I am going to like them. Having other "mom friends" is important, but there has to be something else there other than a shared delivery date.

--In the same vein, it is important to have friends that are not mothers, so that they can remind you that there is more to life than diapers and a nap schedule.

--It is fun to revisit kid's movies and cartoons with your child. I like Winnie The Pooh as much as Little Man does.

--That when you're a mother, and people ask you what you want for your birthday or Christmas, the only thing that you can think of is something you've been dying to get for your child.

--That once you become pregnant, and even as your child gets older, everyone has an opinion about how you should do things regarding your kid...

--...And the trick to staying sane as all the advice comes rolling in is to take it with a grain of salt.

I Could Not Ask For More...a Love Note for a Little Man from his Mama, with a Little Help from a Song

I heard a song on the radio the other day and it stuck in my head. When I found myself humming it to Little Man as I rocked him tonight, I wrote him a letter in my head.

I Could Not Ask for More Lyrics by Edwin McCain

Lying here with you
Listening to the rain
Little Man, I complain when you wake me up at night. But really, I never mind getting up with you. What greater gift can I give than to give comfort to you when you wake up alone and scared?

Smiling just to see the smile upon your face
Your sense of humor is developing...you have favorite parts of movies that always make you laugh, and sometimes you crack yourself up for no reason that your dad and I can see, and that makes us crack up, too.

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I found all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I don't have a lot of time to myself. When I start to get bogged down and feel overwhelmed with motherhood and how much you need me, I remember that it won't always be like this--I won't be your world forever, so now is the time to sit and cuddle with you when you ask, even though I've seen the particular episode of "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" you're watching approximately 6,835 times. This week.

Looking in your eyes
Seeing all I need
Everything you are is everything to me
I don't need a fancy job, a title, a paycheck. If what I am best at is being your mother, I am more wealthy then I ever imagined.

These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
There are moments that choke me up, and they are never the big ones...sure, I got weepy when you took your first step. But sometimes you do things that seem so insubstantial--like wave bye-bye to Pooh Bear at the end of the movie, or impulsively lean down and kiss your stuffed bunny before I take you out of your crib for the morning--and I am moved in a way I can't describe. Heaven must be made up of moments like that.

These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more

I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Is there a better way to spend a sunny day than poking mud with you? Than reading books with you? Than watching you learn in leaps and bounds every minute? The answer is no.

Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have's come true
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me
You have really taught me to live in the moment. You don't understand what the future is. You don't know what "tomorrow" means yet. It can be frustrating, like when I'm trying to reassure you that we will indeed come back to the playground, and you're crying hysterically because you're having so much fun RIGHT NOW. But it can also be wonderful, like when you stop to notice a ladybug crawling on a leaf and all other things in life are forgotten, and you pull me down next to you to show me--because you're so excited to share this wonderful thing you just encountered with me. Whenever you take my hand to show me something you found or discovered, it's like an invitation to a party from the coolest kid in school.

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've got all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
Sometimes you do funny things--you like to spin in circles, get into goofy baby yoga positions, and randomly blow raspberries at me. Sometimes you act like a miniature grown-up--you sit in your booster seat and read a magazine, hold your spoon the right way to feed yourself yogurt even though no one ever really showed you how, and when we're eating out and the waiter asks "what will you folks be having tonight?" you answer him in your baby babble talk like he was talking to you the whole time. I hope I always remember the little things you do.

I could not ask for more than the love you give me 'Coz it's all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I could not ask for more
I've changed a lot of diapers in my day, kid. I've loved a lot of babies. And I've always waited for the day when I had my own. I saved things just for you, lullabies I never sang other children, stories I held in my head just for my own. What I have for you is more than love. My heart walks outside my body now, in the form of one curly-haired, deep-thinking, giggly, goofball little man. And I could not ask for more.

Stick in the Mud

"Would you be so kind as to tow me to a muddy place of which I know of?"
--Winnie-The-Pooh

For a boy his age, Little Man is surprisingly clean. Perhaps he's just naturally tidy-minded...or perhaps it has something to do with his mother obsessively cleaning his hands and face from the tender age of justborn. Whatever the reason, he doesn't like to be dirty.

Until...he discovered mud. And sticks in which to poke mud.

One of the playgrounds we frequent has a long and twisty walking path and a creek that runs along it. Today was a wonderful, warm spring day that found us at that very playground...but did he want to climb? No. Did he want to slide? No. He wanted to poke mud.

We found an extra long stick and Little Man sat on the bridge, leaned over the edge, and examined the way the water turned brown when he swished his stick around. He must have sent out some kind of boy homing beacon, because within 10 minutes, half a dozen other little boys had joined him, poking and dropping things into the mud. Soon there were mud pies and toes being squished in the mud...luckily for me, Little Man didn't make it that far, as I had no change of clothes for him in the car. He did ask to be in the water, and I assured him that next time, play shoes and clothes would be brought. This was, apparently very exciting, because the stick came out of the water and mud was slung across my chest and face.

Note to self: Mommies need spring time play clothes, too.

It was a Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night, in the witching hour that often falls between dinner and bathtime. Little Man and I had been cooped up in the house alone all day, with nary a walk, Dada, or Nana to distract us.

We were over it.

We had played everything--trucks, blocks, trains. We watched Mickey Mouse ClubHouse, Winnie the Pooh, and Baby Genius. We'd done dishes and laundry (both interactive, water-based activities when you have a 1 year old). We'd drawn with crayons--I even pulled out the markers, so you know I was really desperate. The next day--with the weather channel's promise of sunny, 70 degree weather--couldn't arrive fast enough.

Or so I thought.

After a long period of whining and wandering aimlessly around the living room, Little Man swiped my Kindle from the arm of the couch and took off with it into his bedroom. Fearing the drool-induced death of my e-reader, I followed him and was surprised to find him collecting his own favorite books from his bookshelf and piling them on to the floor where he had placed my kindle. He pulled me down onto the floor next to him and started to flip through his books. When I didn't get it, he dropped my Kindle in my lap and pointed.

"Words," he said, and went back to his reading.

We sat that way for nearly an hour, reading our own books, occasionally sharing something with the other. His sharing usually included an excited "oo!oo!" when he came across a favorite picture, and my "sharing" happened when he was between books and checked in on me to point out that I was reading words. "Oooo, ma--ma-ma-ma! Words!"

All the frustration of the dark and stormy day melted away, and suddenly, tomorrow could have taken all the time it wanted to get here.