No Coincidences

Tag: Baby

  • Ivy and Sage Thoughts

    Ivy and Sage Thoughts

    This would have been the fifth installment of “Ivy Thoughts” but instead we get our first “Ivy and Sage Thoughts”! Welcome to my world of two adorable daughters. Come on in.

    Let’s start with Sage since she’s new to the segment. She hasn’t started forming full sentences yet, but it’s time she became an official part of these posts.

    Sage loves the Bluey song. For those who aren’t familiar, you can click HERE.

    In the song where it yells “Mom,” “Dad,” “Bingo,” and “Bluey” Sage yells “Dad!” every time. If she hears that song she stops, stares, and yells “Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” I enjoy her rendition of the theme song.

    Sage is off the charts shy, including around family she doesn’t get to see that often. It’s really interesting because this “shyness,” for lack of a better term, has been a part of Sage since she was a baby. When she was a baby she would sometimes start screaming and crying if someone looked at her. That has continued into her toddler-hood.

    Sage doesn’t like extra attention on her, besides from Beth and I. There was a moment where this became clear. We were doing Sage’s first birthday party at her grandparents. There were great grandparents, aunts, uncles and family there. We put a cake and candles in front of Sage. We sang happy birthday to her. What would normally be a dream come true, a whole cake in front of her, turned quickly to a nightmare when we finished singing and she looked around at all this mass amount of love and attention on her. Sage burst into tears. The collective attention and singing was too much for her to take.

    We’ve seen my family four weekends in the last 6 weeks. Every time we see my family Sage needs at least 24 hours to warm up. She will not go near anyone, gets upset if she gets picked up (or even looked at), and is excessively shy. She will cling to Beth or myself, often laying her head on our shoulder or snuggling her face into our arm to avoid anyone looking at her.

    What’s interesting about this is Sage is the outgoing one between her and Ivy. Sage is wild and crazy and outgoing when comfortable. But if there are strangers around, she gets quiet and closes in on herself. I think I’m like this. It’s interesting how our characteristics are passed onto our children and how some things are just built into us, even as babies. Sage is shy and reserved the same way I was always shy and reserved growing up.

    This past weekend when we were with my family it was fascinating watching Sage’s transformations. At one point Sage was sitting on my lap outside. My mom was in a chair across from us. Sage was snuggling next to me and being her normal (for this weekend) shy, quiet, timid self with my mom nearby. My mom got up to walk inside. The second she was gone Sage stood up and started laughing and screaming and playing. It was an instant transformation. She loves my family once she warms up. Once she warms up she’s crazy and laughing and playing, but until then she is terrified of any outside attention coming her way.

    Sage has inherited plenty of nicknames already. Some of her nicknames include Sagey Sunshine, Sagerific, Rif, Rific, Sage Laura, Roo, and Smudge. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head. That’s to say nothing of the dozens and dozens of nicknames Ivy has given her.

    One last special Sage moment that I think exemplifies strong second child. I dropped Ivy and Sage off at school recently. This was out of the ordinary as Beth usually takes them to school and Ivy was letting it be known this was not in routine. She was crying, saying she was sick, and making a big hubub. While Ivy was melting down I set all our stuff down – snacks for the school for the day, draw bags of washed sheets, lunch boxes, and waters. The teacher patiently gathered all our stuff while I consoled Ivy. Sage meanwhile had walked in through the first gate and was waiting to be let in to go play. The teacher was holding Ivy’s lunch box and looking around. “Where is Sage’s lunchbox?” She asked looking all over the place. I looked around too. It was just there. Sage walked back from the second gate and pointed on the shelf where she had set her lunchbox. She then turned around with a complete, “See the people I have to deal with?” look on her face as she waited to be let in to school to start playing.

    Now onto some classic Ivy thoughts.

    After getting home late from grandparents’ home one night, I asked Ivy for a hug and a kiss. She gave me a big hug then she got her face really close to mine and said, “sticker time,” patted her chest and said, “Ivy tired” and got into bed. Still not sure what sticker time meant or was referring to.

    Ivy flushed a toy down the toilet. I told her if she did that again the toilet would break and we’d need to go to the store when we needed to go to the bathroom. She seemed perplexed about this and continued to ask questions. I emphasized that flushing things down the toilet could break the toilet. “I break the house?” She asked. Seizing the opportunity to potentially get her to understand the severity of flushing something down the toilet I replied, “Yes, flushing toys down the toilet could break the whole house.” This had a big impact. She proceeded to tell Beth that she was worried she was going to break the house.

    The next day we were at church. Beth took Ivy to the bathroom. Ivy looked up at Beth and said, “If I flush a toy down the toilet, I break the church?” Beth told me later, that time I caught Ivy flushing a toy down the toilet was the second straight day Ivy had flushed something down the toilet at home. Beth hadn’t told me because she didn’t want me to freak out. Well, now Ivy is convinced our house is going to collapse into a pile of rubble if she flushes anything besides toilet paper down the toilet. She hasn’t put anything in the toilet since. Parenting win.

    Ivy really doesn’t like crane flies. They freak her out. We explained to Ivy that crane flies aren’t bad. They’re actually pretty good because they don’t bother people, but they eat the little bugs that annoy us. Ivy said, “They kill little bugs?” “Yes,” we replied. “They don’t kill people?” That made us laugh. “No,” we explained, “they don’t even hurt people.” Ivy said, “I’m glad they don’t kill people.”

    There’s a toy I grew up with called Playmobil. They’re little figures that I played with nonstop. I still love Playmobil. Ivy has the same love of them and they are all she plays with when we visit Grandma and Grandpa Q’s house in Las Vegas. Ivy has the same love of order that I do and can spend hours lining them up in orderly groups.

    These little figures have plastic hair pieces that click into their heads. When a Playmobil figure is missing its hair its head becomes bowl-like. The top of their head basically becomes a hole. Ivy saw a Playmobil figure without its hair once and exclaimed, “Oh no! He has a hole in his head. Let me see the hole in your head.” I showed Ivy the spot in the back of my head where hair still doesn’t completely grow. “Awww,” she said sympathetically.

    Before one more heartwarming story, I’ll share a full on threenager moment. This morning Ivy got out of bed and came out of her room. I was just about to walk out the door. Ivy does the cutest thing right now. She walks out and says, “Good morning, Dad, Cory is here” (new alias, Cory Matthews from Boy Meets World).

    I said, “Good morning, Cory, come give me a hug before I leave for work.”

    She walked over and said, “A hug and a big smooch.”

    She hugged and kissed my leg. I put my arm around her and patted her head. She started to walk away then came back and did it again. I again patted her head. She started to walk away then came back again. Same process. I started to think she was broken when on the fourth return walk she said, with feirce anger in her eyes, “No, no, no, Dad, don’t touch my head.” So I didn’t touch her head this time and she hugged my leg, gave it a kiss, and walked away. Then she turned around and looked at me and said, “When you touch my head my hair gets so so so crazy! Don’t pat my head, Dad!” She was holding back tears as she walked to our room to say good morning to Beth. As she walked into our room she slammed our door. The teenage years are going to be great, I can feel it.

    But to balance that, let’s end with a heartwarming Ivy moment. Ivy recently hugged me one night and looked up at me and said, “You’re the best, Dad.”

    I love being a dad.

  • Blessing of Sickness

    Blessing of Sickness

    I think getting sick is a great blessing.

    Before anyone gets mad at me, let me clarify. I think short-term, temporary, not too dangerous, not too terrible sickness can be a great blessing. I’m talking the colds, the stomach bugs, the flu, the non-life threatening sicknesses are the best. Being sick sucks. It’s miserable. I’m the cliché ‘whine and cry more than anyone about being sick’ person, but, I am so grateful for sickness.

    Let me elaborate with a specific example.

    Sage started throwing up like crazy at 9:30pm, soon after going to bed. I got her out of bed. She was projectile vomiting and writhing in pain. We ended up at the hospital. We brought Sage home around 1:30am.

    Sage went right to sleep in our bed with Beth. I slept on the couch. I think I finally fell asleep around 2:00am. At 4:00am I awoke to a familiar sound, but this time it wasn’t Sage. My worry had come true. Ivy was crying. I ran to her room and turned on the light to find her, her pillow, and her quilt covered in throw up.

    I knew more was coming and was too exhausted to do the whole strip the bed and cleanup routine so I’m ashamed (not really, actually) to say I just cleaned it up and told Ivy to lay back down. I wiped her mouth, got a bucket, made sure she was comfortable, got a blanket and pillow for myself, and laid down next to her.

    For the next 2.5 hours, I could have set my watch to Ivy throwing up. Every 20 minutes from 4:00am to 6:20am when we finally got up, she would throw up. Just enough time for me to start to doze off while holding her hand. I’d hear it start, I’d jump up and give her the bucket, I’d wipe up any that missed, I’d wipe her mouth. Rinse repeat (pun intended?).

    This all sounds miserable, right? Where is the blessing in this? This is horrible!

    Well, it kind of is. No doubt it is heartbreaking watching your little ones be sick. It is heartbreaking. They can’t control it. They don’t know what’s going on. It’s sad.

    At 6:20am Ivy and I got up and cuddled on the couch. We put on the cartoon Doug by Ivy’s demand. 18 minutes into a 23-minute episode she said, “This episode is too long put on something else.”

    Ivy and I proceeded to have a Boy Meets World marathon. She was Sean for the rest of the day. I was Cory. Sage was Morgan. Sometimes I was Allen. If you don’t know those characters, step up your Boy Meets World knowledge.

    Sage woke up around 8am or something. This is all a blur now as I hadn’t really slept at all. Sage ate some grapes and I immediately put her back to sleep. Ivy and I were back to our marathon.

    Beth mentioned I should go pick up our prescription of Zofran. As exhausted as I was, I decided this was the best opportunity for me to do that. Ivy was getting tired. She went into the room with Beth to lie down and I packed up to go down the street to the pharmacy.

    Oh did I mention Beth was sick the whole day too? Side note, this is how things go in our family, I’ll likely be puking my guts out 24-48 hours after the rest of the family, I always catch these things on a delay. We joke it’s my Quackenbush DNA. My girls only have 50% of the Quackenbush DNA. The virus will get me, but I’ll fight it off for a while. (I can even more gratefully say now, as I wrote this a couple weeks ago, that I never got this sickness, boo-yah).

    I came back from the pharmacy and luckily got to sleep for an hour(?) before Sage woke up. I got Sage up and fed her some food. We spent an hour bonding, cuddling, and snuggling in the living room before Ivy woke up. I put Sage back to sleep and Ivy and I continued our BMW marathon before going on a walk.

    We walked around the neighborhood, sat in the grass, played eye spy.

    You get the picture.

    Came back. Sage was up. Feed Sage. Bathe Sage.

    Long day.

    Awesome day.

    It’s so hard to slow down in this world.

    Sickness makes us slow down. This was a special day. This is a day I will treasure.

    There were so many special moments. Like on our walk when Ivy held my hand to make me feel safe. Or when Ivy asked on our walk if I knew where the dumpster was and then told me, “You’re absolutely right.” All those sad but tender moments of grabbing a bucket and holding Ivy and telling her, “I’m here, you’re OK, I’ve got you” while she retched and threw up. Sage cuddling in my lap and looking up at me and I knew she knew she was safe and going to be okay. Seeing Sage and Ivy get better before my eyes – getting back to their normal selves.

    There were so many moments that were so important with my girls that day.

    I wouldn’t have had those moments if not for their sickness.

    Being sick is miserable. But it can also be really special.

    One final memorable moment – Ivy was going potty and I was about to get in the shower. I told her, “I’m going to shower and when I get out I’ll get you some food. You can have nachos or noodles or toast or crackers or a sandwich. Think about what you want when I get out.” Ivy’s response, “Dad, I’m not going to think of all those things.”

  • Ivy Thougts Part 3

    Ivy Thougts Part 3

    It’s time for one of my favorite posts to write – Ivy thoughts!

    This is a good one.

    One of the funnest things about being a parent is watching your child start to mimic you. It’s in those moments that I get a snapshot into how closely she is watching me. The other day Beth texted me and said, “I can tell when there’s a habit you do because Ivy does it. Like tapping your toothbrush on the edge of the sink. I said, ‘Does Daddy do that?’ And she said, ‘Yeah Daddy like tap tap tap.’”

    Other examples are the words she copies. The other day she said to her grandpa, “Papa, come hang out.” Another time they were playing a game and she said, “You give it a try.” My favorite example showing Ivy paying attention and learning, she was standing at the kitchen counter while her grandpa cut vegetables. He set the knife down and she, unprompted, said, “Ivy no touch knives.” Ivy helps me put the dishes away. I’ll hand her cups, plastic bowls, plastic plates, forks, spoons and she’ll put them in the dishwasher. Early on I would start to hand her a knife and then pause and say, “Does Ivy touch knives.” Of course, in the beginning, she would say, “Yes,” and I would say, “No, no, Ivy doesn’t touch knives,” and she’d quickly say, “No, no, Ivy no touch knives.” So we’d continue and if I started to hand her a knife to test her she would quickly say, “No, no, Ivy no touch knives.” Glad to see the things I’m teaching her are travelling.

    I had Ivy for an hour while I worked one day. She sat on the couch and watched Curious George by herself for 30 minutes. 30 minutes in she wanted to work with me. I tell her she can sit on my lap as long as she doesn’t touch anything. She proceeds to touch everything and say, “Can I touch this.” This I accept, having played this game before, as long as she doesn’t touch my keyboard. Then she starts throwing things. I gently set her aside and tell her it’s back to Curious George. This whole time she hasn’t said a word about the bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs on the right side of my desk. I’m amazed until… 2 minutes later she comes back. She walks up to my right arm which is on my chair’s arm rest. She gives my arm a huge hug and says, “Daddy, I’m so proud of you.” She gives it a good squeeze. I say, “Aw Ivy, thank you, I love you,” and give her a kiss. She promptly reaches over for the bag of chocolates and starts to walk away. I grab them just before she is out of reach. I tell her she can have one. I unwrap it and give it to her. As she walks out she says, “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” Is this what being wrapped around a finger feels like?

    Ivy and I were cuddling in bed after a nap and totally out of nowhere Ivy looks up at me and says, “You have sharks on your water bottle, Dad?” I looked over at my water bottle and said, “No, my water bottle is just green.” Ivy said, “It OK Dada, one day when you’re bigger you’ll get sharks on your water bottle TOO.”

    The other day Beth asked Ivy if she tooted and she said, very seriously, “No. There’s just a bobcat in my bum.” The same day, after I left for work, Ivy asked Beth, “Where Daddy going?” Beth responded that I went to work and Ivy said, “Again?!?!” You and me both sweet girl. She had a lot of personality that day.

    This was one of those equally heartbreaking and also wonderful parenting moments. I took Ivy with me to an open gym for basketball a couple months back. I expected it to go well. It went as poorly as it could have. I had to leave early and it was the last time I took Ivy to open gym. In my frustration, after Ivy was upset and throwing a fit and crying, I told her I’d hoped I could take her with me to basketball more this season but that I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Like I said, I hadn’t taken her back with me since. Recently, I was at basketball. Ivy saw me leave with my bag and ball. “Where you goin Daddy?” “I have to go to basketball sweetie, I’ll see you when I get back.” She just looked at me with the most beautiful eyes and content face. But it wasn’t the normal – ‘see ya later’ face. While I was at practice Beth texted me, “Ivy’s been packing a bag and saying ‘I’m packing because I have to go to basketball soon. I know you will miss me when I’m at basketball. I come back though.’” I realized I need to give her another shot.

    Apparently when I was gone for work an entire day Ivy kept saying, “Say what’s wrong Hero Boy.” So Beth replies and asks what’s wrong with Hero Boy. “I lost my daddy.” Heart. Broken.

    We’ve had a few days of complete toddler turmoil. I love Ivy. She’s been a monster. She’s in the stage where if you ask her not to do something it’s instantly the next thing she does. Not kidding. We’ve been letting her play Battleship. You know, like the old school board game. She sits and puts the ships and pegs in and plays Battleship with herself. On occasion, the little pegs drop and I had to emphasize to her that it was important those didn’t drop because we didn’t want to lose pieces and Sage could choke on them. Ivy got out of her chair, walked across the room to where Sage was, and started to hand her one of the little pegs. It wasn’t like the temptation was even there. Sage wasn’t right next to her. She had to get out of her seat (a lot of work) and walk across the room to find Sage and willfully disobey what I just said. It was like she was possessed by some irrepressible urge to do exactly what I just told her not to do. These are the parenting moments that are teaching us patience, I guess.

    On that note of Ivy being difficult and us trying to be patient – I was leaving for basketball the other day and it had been a particularly stressful day for Beth. I went to Ivy before I left and quietly talked to her. I asked her to be my best girl. To help her mom, to take care of her sister, and to be my best, sweetest girl. “Can you do that for me?” “Yes, Daddy.” Beth texted me while I was at basketball: “We finally had a quiet moment to sit down after a walk and crafts. I’m trying so hard and yet she’s being so difficult! Ivy has a cold drink and Sage is eating her dinner. Ivy looks up at me and says in a sweet little voice, ‘Mom, I am doing my best.’ I have no idea where she heard that or if she even knows what that means but it was so sweet and probably true so I told her, ‘I know, my sweet Ivy’ and felt a little calmer. The student becomes the teacher yet again.” Ivy knows what that means. And she’s amazing. And she’s teaching us so much, while we try to teach her just enough to survive and not choke her sister.

  • Defense of Love You Forever

    Defense of Love You Forever

    Love You Forever written by Robert Munsch and illustrated by Sheila McGraw.

    Beth made a big mistake and I’m calling her out here. She has criticized Love You Forever. For those unfamiliar with this fabulous children’s book, you can watch a 5-minute video HERE to have it read out loud to you. Or you can just read my quick summary here. I suggest you watch the 5-minute read-aloud video, but prepare for the waterworks.

    Love You Forever takes you through the life of a baby boy, who turns into a toddler, who turns into a teenager, who turns into an adult. Throughout the book the mother occasionally comes into her son’s room at night and rocks him to sleep singing:

    “I’ll love you forever,

    I’ll like you for always,

    As long as I’m living

    my baby you’ll be.”

    I won’t spoil the ending for you, but that is the gist.

    I’m just going to say it: I have a hard time getting through this book when I read it to Ivy or Sage. It’s emotional thinking about them growing up to have their own house and yet, still being my babies.

    Beth, on the other hand, has orchestrated an all-out assault on the precious, nostalgic, loved book. I tried to reach out to Beth for a record of that social media post. Apparently, she burned the evidence.

    Recently Beth shared a mom forum post from a couple people who agreed with me. They said the book made them emotional. This led to Beth and I discussing the book, yet again. You’d be surprised how much this book has been discussed between us. Enough for me to take it to the blog!

    Beth says it’s weird that the mother in the book is breaking into the house of her son as a grown man and rocking him to sleep. I say she needs to understand and appreciate the metaphor in this story. Obviously, the mother isn’t breaking into her grown son’s home. It’s metaphorical. It is a beautiful, powerful, and emotional metaphor.

    I told her she’d rue the day she attacked this book.

    So, Beth and I were discussing it yet again. We were talking about the book over text. There was mudslinging going on. Threats of keys being given to her dad with approval to come into our home and rock Beth to sleep. Claims of emotional vacancy and lack of metaphorical understanding.

    Amidst these joking exchanges, we were also discussing an upcoming trip. I was driving with Ivy that day after work to Las Vegas. Beth was flying to Utah to surprise her sister for a bridal shower. Beth was taking Sage with her. It was going to be the first time Beth was ever away from Ivy for any serious amount of time.

    That’s when, right in the middle of our Love You Forever discussion, Beth said this:

    ”Take good care of her. I know you will but it’s hard to let go. Remember truck stops are not safe places. And don’t forget to keep the back door shut so she doesn’t slip into the pool when people are busy playing games. Listen to her stories and give her hugs when she’s sad. It’s okay to help her be tough but also needs love. Drive extra safely. She’s my life! FaceTime me!”

    Apparently, Beth is lacking in irony awareness along with metaphorical awareness. The irony was not lost on me.

    I replied, “It’s like you’re metaphorically still going into her room every night to rock her to sleep. Are you going to be ok? (You attacked the wrong book).”

    And with that statement, I won. What do you think about Love You Forever? Who’s got it right? Is it creepy or beautiful?

    **Mandatory disclaimer for those who may misinterpret my jest as actual insults. Beth is the smartest, most intelligent, most aware, and understanding person I know. That’s why I married her. This is all in good fun. I don’t actually think she doesn’t understand metaphor. Now sarcasm… that she definitely struggles with.

  • Ivy Thoughts Part 2

    Ivy Thoughts Part 2

    There’s this book Ivy loves called “Icarus.” We learned there are a series of these books that take Greek legends and makes them into children’s stories with a lesson. Icarus, for example, flies his kite too high until it hits trees, similar to the Greek legend of Icarus flying too close to the sun. Anyways, we learned about the series, and ordered a few of them. We got one about Odysseus. Remember how Ivy often wants to be called “teacher”? That’s been replaced by “Ivydysseus.” Beth and I never said that. She came up with that on her own.

    It’s not the only nickname Ivy has come up with either. We read a book about Baby Beluga. Ivy, on her own, started calling Sage “Sagey Beluga.” My family loves giving nicknames. I’m never referred to as “Brayden” by my parents. I am either Lewis or Fly. Adie is Sassafrass, Garrick is Dude, Dresdan is Jiggles, Cambria is Barbara, and Easton is Goose. Ivy apparently has the Quackenbush gene of giving nicknames.

    I’ve mentioned Ivy teaching Sage how to pray. Ivy says her prayer every night before bedtime. Last night she said her normal prayer, “Thank you for Jesus, thank you for Mudder (she learned she could call Beth “mother”), thank you for Daddy, thank you for blankie, thank you for super cozy (code for being comfortable in bed), thank you for water. Amen.” Then she says, “Billy’s turn.” Billy is her stuffed bobcat. I get Billy from the floor and hand him to her. Ivy gets back into kneeling position on her bed and says, “Thank you for Ivy. Amen.” Of course, Billy has to say his prayer and the only thing he’s grateful for is Ivy.

    We dog-sit a dog named Chicago. Ivy LOVES Chicago. Today Ivy “called” Chicago’s owner on the phone during her lunch. Here was what she had to update Chicago’s owner on: “Yeah Mommy’s with Sage. Chicago’s just sleeping. Yeah Chicago…Chicago…Chicago…okay bye.”

    More on nicknames. You can get in big trouble for not being aware of Ivy’s current persona. At this moment in time, there are many. At any given moment she can be a completely different attitude depending on her name. “Ivydysseus,” as mentioned, indicates she’s feeling adventurous. Ivy teacher means she’s teaching you something, or potentially cooking you some food. There’s Ivy, which obviously means she’s not in character. There is Ivy James. I’m not sure what Ivy James indicates. But DON’T get caught calling her by the wrong name. If you call her Ivydysseus while she’s clearly reading you a book, you will get a firm, “No, I Ivy teacher.” When you reply, “Oh, sorry, Ivy teacher” she will reply, “Good job.”

    There are things Beth isn’t allowed to say, but I am. We haven’t figured out why that is or any sort of pattern yet. But if Beth says something like, “Oh, sorry Ivy.” It’s common for Ivy to reply, “No, no, no, you no say ‘sorry Ivy.’ Dada say ‘sorry Ivy.’” This goes for all sorts of things. “No, no, no, you no say ‘OK’, Dada say ‘OK’”. That one really puts Beth in a tough spot because the natural reaction to that statement is to reply “OK” again. Beth’s really got to watch herself because if she says “OK” again… man is she going to hear about it.

    Those Mini Myths books, mentioned earlier, are awesome. I already talked about the Icarus and Odysseus ones. We have a couple others. But one of those books has been causing problems. It is the Hercules version. In the Hercules version, Hercules has a little sister. At one point Hercules’s father (Zeus? Doesn’t look like him in the book but whatever) says, “Hercules, are you playing nice?” Hercules responds, “I’m strong, I’m not nice.” Hercules proceeds to destroy his sister’s tower. The book has a happy ending, of course. Hercules learns to be strong and nice. He reconstructs his sister’s tower. Ivy, unfortunately, has forgotten the ending. All day she is picking up stuff and saying, “I so strong. I not nice.” I told Beth we need to start skipping that page.

    On this same note, Ivy is super susceptible to messages from books or TV. The most well-intentioned media, like the Hercules book or the show Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood (which does a ton of good) can have a negative impact. If Ivy sees anger in a show, she goes through it herself.

    There is a Daniel Tiger episode where he learns how to handle anger. He pauses, takes a deep breath, and counts to four, with a little jingle attached. This is awesome. Ivy does this deep breath and counting pretty much every day. What’s crazy is that when Ivy watches the show she goes through the full emotional roller coaster Daniel Tiger goes through in the show. When he gets angry, she gets angry. It’s kind of fake anger on Ivy’s part, kind of not. I’ve seen that anger carry on after the episode is finished.

    Ivy
    Mad

    One night I was reading Ivy a book called I was so Mad before bedtime. I altered the entire book to “I was so happy” because I knew if I read “I was so mad” over and over while Ivy was in bed, she’d actually get mad. It’s interesting how much those little minds are impacted by external influences.

    This wraps another “Ivy Thoughts.” Part 3 is already in full swing. Stay tuned for more.