Bowling

A few weeks ago, I bought a toddler-sized wooden bowling set. It was sorta too cute to pass up (c'mon, wooden toy in useful/coordinated tote? Sold!), and I thought I could try to teach Rain how to play something different. Our first lesson went something like this:

Step 1: Wowee! Bowling is too fun!
I decided I'd have to show her how fun bowling could be, so I wildly cheered and hollered as I rolled the ball across the floor. My exaggerated expressions proved to her that, clearly, she was missing out.

Step 2: Create suspense
"1 ... 2 ... 3!" I exclaimed, and rolled the ball towards the pins. "Look at the ball hit the pins!" Anyone who has done this with a baby or puppy knows the frustration of pointing to something and saying, "Don't look at my finger, look at what I'm pointing at. No, not my finger, that, that!"

Step 3: Demonstrate prowess
I hit one pin, and Rain's brow lowered in puzzlement. Was this a good thing? Was it an accident? I hit two pins at once, and her mouth made a big O. That's right, kiddo: Mama is a pro. Be glad we're not taking bets.

Step 4: Train apprentice
I put the ball in Rain's hand. "1 ... 2 ... 3!" Ball drops to the floor but fails to roll more than a few inches. Surprisingly, Rain understands this was not the goal. Frustration mounts.

Step 5: The student becomes the master
I gave her the ball again. Rain stared at it. After a moment, she dropped the ball. She toddled over to the pins and kicked them all down. Problem solved.