Where �E�s come from:

We hear sirens in the distance.

AJ: I hear a fire engine.

Harriet: Yeah, the sirens are getting loud.

AJ: �E�s come out of them.

Harriet: Excuse me?

AJ: �E�s come out of fire engines. Like in Don�t Wake Mama (a book we had out of the library about 2 months ago in which the noise of the siren was represented by �E�s of varying sizes undulating in a line around the fire engine.)

Harriet: Oh, of course! You�re right. I�ve always wondered where �E�s come from. They come from fire engines.

AJ: No, Mommy. �E�s come from the ALPHABET.

� � � � � �

AJ is a mystery to me at the moment �at any moment, really. So far, age three seems to be about careening wildly between angelically sweet and monstrously bad.

The last several days have been�trying, to put it mildly. The worst of it was our Monday trip to the library when he had a tantrum about his favorite puzzle (�But�it�s�missing�a�piece� *SOB*), about which video to take home (even though we were taking home the one he wanted), which books to check out (he wanted to check out three copies of the same book), and which chair to sit in (all were available, none was good enough). Finally he was distracted by some little girls, who came in with their mothers and sat down at his table. They played nicely together for a while, and then I informed AJ that we had to go. He was, surprisingly, okay about leaving until one of the little girls got up and sat in the chair he had just vacated. AJ ran back to the table and started trying to shake the girl out of the chair, screaming, �NO! THAT�S MY CHAIR! MINE! MINE! MINE!� I picked him up, tucked him under my arm like a package � a very noisy, kicking package � made my apologies to the mommies, and carried him to the front desk where the library ladies, who all adore him, shook their heads and clucked in dismay. Clearly they were on his side � these are the ladies who on occasion follow AJ around the library, hiding stealthily behind the stacks so he can�t see them, listening to him read books to himself. �I just love to hear him read,� one of them said sheepishly to me one day after I�d caught her red-handed while she was eavesdropping on AJ, who had plopped himself down on his blankie in the middle of an aisle with a copy of Go Dog, Go. �He�s so cute.� That day I was inclined to agree but on Monday I was skeptical. Clearly they were cutting him some slack on the basis of past behavior � a lesson I myself might be wise to remember. Nevertheless, AJ was placated and we departed without further incident.

But an altogether different boy altogether got out of bed yesterday. Yesterday he was full of hugs and kisses and good ideas about things to do. He came up with games to play instead of twisting himself around my legs and whining, �Play with me,� (when I thought I was doing just that) until veins pop out on my forehead. And I have never heard him talk so much about school. It�s a funny thing sending a two and now three year old off to school. His language skills are pretty good, but his memory is faulty. He�s so wrapped up in the moment that the recent past is frequently irrelevant. Often he can�t respond when asked what he did at school just hours before, although sometimes several days later he�ll remember something and tell us about it. But today we got the whole story, how he and D. pushed cars down a slide, how he wanted to play �the fall down game� (more on this in a minute) but one of his friends said yes and another (a girl who, her mother says, has been known to refer to AJ as �my boyfriend�) said no. how he painted a tulip, how he couldn�t wait to go back, how fire engines make �E�s.

Moreover � and this is the most miraculous change of all � he did not get out of bed once put there. Not at naptime, not at bedtime. Not even once. An AJ first since moving to a bed without walls.

The fall down game is a recent AJ invention. This game is based on the classic Peanuts cartoon of Lucy holding a ceremonial football for Charlie Brown to kick, only to pull it away at the last moment, sending Charlie Brown flying into the air yelling, �ARRRGGHH!� In the fall down game, AJ is Charlie Brown and whoever can be persuaded to hold the ball is Lucy. AJ runs a good distance away then turns around and shouts a cheerful, �Ready!� Lucy places the ball and shouts, �Ready.� AJ gets a look of gritty determination on his face and starts chugging toward the ball, legs flying, arms pumping. As he closes in on the ball, Lucy pulls the ball away and shouts, �Yoink!� This is AJ�s cue to hurl himself to the ground with an elongated �AAARRRGGH!�, occasionally followed by �Rats!� Upon each repetition of this series of events, AJ starts a little farther away. If his attention span lasts long enough, he will back up all the way down the forest path, a barely visible AJ waving brightly from behind a tree before beginning his unsuccessful attempt at kicking the ball. Rats!

Being a basically klutzy person, I spend much of my day trying NOT to fall down. I offer as evidence the numerous bruises and scars criss-crossing my legs. I find it mildly alarming that someone might be interested in falling down on purpose for no good reason. I am much more interested in making sure I can get up again. But AJ likes the chaos of the fall, the unpredictability of it. He hurls himself into space trusting that he�ll land in nice, soft grass, or possibly in my arms as I shield him from potential hazards. His lack of experience makes him fearless � that is, I suppose, the true strength of innocence. It�s a beautiful and terrifying thing to witness. Sometimes I feel like the best I can do as a parent is to make sure his shoes are tied.

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