daisyandzelda

I’m posting this shamelessly – its sole purpose is to add to a painfully adorable collection of interviews with two-year-olds (the Paper Mama kicked it off in the minds of Zelda and I; the idea came from Pinterest in her case I think, but I can’t trace the original source). Zadie was put through her paces here. Here’s Maja’s set – admittedly gathered a little later than her second birthday, but only by a month.

1. What is your favourite colour? Green.
2. What is your favourite TV program? Ott ['there' in Hungarian - she pointed in the direction of the TV].
3. What is your favourite fruit? Kiwifruit.
4. What is your favourite movie? [No comment]
5. What is your favourite thing to eat for lunch? Kiwifruit.
6. What is your favourite animal? Kangaroo.
7. What is your favourite snack? Ezt a Maja rajzolta ['Maja drew this' in perfectly grammatical Hungarian - her attention was wandering; she was pointing out a drawing she'd done on the paper my questions were scrawled on].
8. What is your favourite book? Szélkerék ['windmill' in Hungarian - she was still talking about the picture she'd drawn. Windmills are a recurring theme in her art].
9. Who is your best friend? Zsófi [This is the name of a Hungarian cousin, and also a little friend of her age who she hangs out with in Hungary].
10. What is your favourite song? Anna [Another cousin - Zsófi's sister].
11. What’s your favourite toy? Maci ['teddy' in Hungarian].
12. What do you want to be when you grown up? Mmmm-hmmm.

Growing up?? Mmm-hmm *dubiously*.

I was surprised at these answers – I was expecting a lot more randomness, since I don’t think she has much of a concept of ‘favourite’ at all yet. ‘Kangaroo’ was completely out of the blue; there haven’t been any kangaroos in our lives recently. The double appearance of ‘kiwifruit’ was less surprising – she adores them at the moment.

Typing this up, I see particularly clearly (I don’t notice this when we speak) how her bilingualism is generally working at the moment – she processes my English questions fine, and tends to respond in Hungarian. Her Hungarian is definitely stronger at the moment; hopefully (well, for my sake) the balance swings a little over the next few months, while we’re here in New Zealand! Development of a good broad kiwi accent would only be a bonus.

Well, January has been and gone without a single post from me …

I could say I’ve had too much on this past month, but that would – sadly – be a barefaced lie. Although in a curious way, it’s true – some very very big things have been going on. So big that I haven’t known whether – or how – to do them justice here. The most I can say now is that I’ve no doubt that they’ll be making an appearance here as the year rolls on.

Here we are on the other side of the world, back at the glorious beach with Grandma and Granddad, for the foreseeable future … to get here we crossed oceans and time zones and cultures and borders, and survived jetlag and a tummy bug that literally felled our whole family, one after the next.

Maja makes friends at Incheon International Airport, South Korea.

The internet connection is crap here, so if my posts doesn’t suffer over the next little while I can assure you that my picture editing will – it’s just too painful to sit here staring at the (admittedly green and duckling-filled) view out the window while I wait for images to load. Miss Zelda, if you want to go and add pictures to anything I manage to get up, please do so!

I’ll be seeing you intermittently.

Your happily New Zealand-based correspondent,

Daisy

On the other side of the birthday/Christmas season, I’ve been thinking a bit about toddlers and presents.

When kids are too young to even understand the concept of a gift, we tend to give them practical things: clothing, blankets, baby toiletries … things that parents find useful. And then babies become toddlers, and instincts become thoughts, feelings, opinions, habits.

I feel like our own family is just entering into that age when people start to give gifts that aim to impress Maja, rather than us.

Sparkly shoes! She is impressed.

A two-year-old is difficult to consult with about presents (I never tried it, but I think if I had asked Maja what she wanted for her birthday/Christmas, assuming I could get her to understand the question, she might have said ‘raisins’, which she loves. Or ‘toilet paper’, which she adores.)

When we give a two-year-old a gift, we’re inevitably guessing about what is likely to amuse/interest/educate them. And that guessing, to whatever extent we acknowledge it, is going to be very influenced by what we want to think about the child: what we want them to be, now and in the future.

Kitchen stuff! She is impressed (me – not so much).

This festive season, Maja got an awesome haul of presents from all sorts of special people. I love to watch her enjoying these things and to join the dots in my head between those who gave them, and the physical objects themselves, and this little person who is touching them, using them, bending them, stretching them, reading them, loving them, bringing them to life. If fascinates me to think of how her destiny looks in the heads of all these gift-givers (including ourselves as parents), and to think about how likely those visions will be to match the future reality. Our gifts are like little paper boats that we launch into the stream, hoping that ours might be the first to reach the bridge – or at least to enjoy a satisfyingly long voyage in the attempt.

Fur + jerkin = furkin.

A tambourine, a fluffy morepork and some bath-friendly letters and numbers from Mummy and Apa … sparkly shoes from Aunty C and Uncle J … kitchen accoutrements from her Hungarian grandparents … farm-themed Duplo from one set of Hungarian cousins, and a skittles set from the other … perfect, seasonal books and some art supplies from Aunty T … a big nursery-rhyme anthology from Aunty L … candy-coloured ugg boots and a furkin to match Mummy’s and Aunty C’s ones from her New Zealand grandparents … no doubt many other major parcels that I’m probably omitting from this list in a mortifying way … and this late-arriving wonder from Uncle H: an abundant selection of glorious Richard Scarry books, and two kooky little Chinese suits:

Awesome.

All you gift-givers, thank you! Than you for the things you gave – thank you for wondering about who this little person is, and who she’s going to be. Thanks for being YOU, for fulfilling your own destinies (mapped out for your own two-year-old selves by a parallel set of well-wishers, perhaps) and for being there, a vital part of our lives.

We LOVE you!!

Daisy

Happy 2013!

I seem to have taken a bit of an unplanned holiday from the blog … although if I’d thought about it I would have known that regular posting over this chaotic period would not be a priority, and told everybody not to expect too much.

How was your Christmas?

Ours was white.

It was accompanied by (to blow my own trumpet, deservedly I might say) perfectly executed food.

Christmas mince pies, NZ-themed gingerbread, prosciutto and cherry tomatoes on baked kifli, mini pavlovas

These figures feature centrally on our tile stove, which heats our whole house. We decked them out in yuletide finery.

And understated decorations.

It was, gloriously, blessedly, filled to overflowing with family from both sides of the globe.

At its apex, Uncle J did a haka for the Hungarians. The most incredible, perfect thing. And I cried. With love for the people who were finally there, and for all the people who weren’t. For the distance that defines us. For the chasm that is not geographical but cultural and will never be breached, no matter how warm and altruistic our intentions. For that warmth, that altruism, in spite of it. For my beautiful, beautiful family Here and There.

How was your New Year’s?

Ours was nicely balanced – a boozy night with friends on the 30th and then a lovely little celebration with Hungarian cousins on the 31st. A struggle to stay awake until 12; a quick ooh and aah at some modest street fireworks, and a thankful stumble into a warm and populous bed (without the subject having ever exactly being discussed, Maja has been in our bed through the night a lot recently – by choice rather than in resignation, funnily enough. All three of us have just been quietly, harmoniously appreciating the closeness …).

And our 2013?

I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a bit wonderful. I have plans – for me, for our family, for this blog. I’ll keep you posted.

Daisy

Under today’s little cardboard Advent calendar flap is a heart-warming story about an early Christmas present I received this week … I hope I can do it justice, because the way I experienced it was almost spiritual; it was something quite transcendent.

It had been a long, hard winter’s day. I had been working all day and I had a sore throat. I was taking a mummy moment. I stretched out on the couch just above where Maja was playing, bustling about as usual with her toys. She’s really keen on make-believe play at the moment; she loves to feed them and dress them and put them to bed.

This is the scene on our couch right now (scratchy phone pic, sorry): Mazsola’s and Kitty’s needs have been attended to, with a nice sippy cup of red bush tea.

And my little Christmas angel came over to take a break from talking to her toys, to talk to me. Suddenly, I was one of her toys. She came and stroked my forehead, and told me to close my eyes in soothing tones I recognised as an imitation of my own when I’m trying to get her to sleep.  She picked up on my saying ‘Mummy’s tired’ and said it back to me lots and lots, until ‘tired’ became the similar-sounding Hungarian ‘tejet’, which means ‘milk’ in the objective case, and then she started saying to me ‘Hozok tejet’ – I’ll bring some milk. And she went out to the kitchen and opened the fridge and tried to reach the milk bottle. When she realised it was too high up she just came slowly back to the couch and told me again softly and reassuringly that she would bring milk, she would bring milk. She kept stroking my forehead softly, and saying in a kind of half-whisper ‘Jól van csak, Mummy, jól van csak’, which isn’t perfect Hungarian but basically means ‘It’s alright, Mummy, it’s alright’.

It was pure, beautiful human empathy that I witnessed flowing out of her as freely as a song – the most natural thing in the world, and yet the most learnt, too: all the phrases, the actions, the gestures that she’d seen and heard and felt us do whenever in her short life she needed us.

I had the amazing realisation that my little girl knows how to treat others. She knows how good and how important it is to be loved. She knows how to show somebody you love them. Until then I hadn’t seen. It was incredible.

I love her more than words can tell.

Daisy

Advent day 1: Rum pa-pa pum!

Advent day 2: Tiny clothes

Advent day 3: Christmas mince pies