|Easter at Duke Gardens|
If only it brought something in May, he mused. Smart ass.
All this is very unsettling for me. I like things to be orderly. Which, of course, is why we decided to have kids.
This week, however, my sweet baby Owie made the transition from mostly crawling to mostly walking. I remember this transition with the other two. He's strutting around here just drunk with glee. And he's into everything, especially whatever his brother and sister are doing.
I don't want my brother anymore, Danny declares after Owen breaks up the train tracks.
In other news, Fiona has returned to her whiny ways. In fact, she was whining so much one day that the dog actually barked at her. Our dog is a Husky. They rarely bark.
Welcome to the club, Bob, Jim said. We don't like it either.
I laughed myself silly. It hurt, of course, since I have a vicious sore throat, but it was totally worth it.
When your throat hurts, it gets all red and inflamed. Um, swollen, I explained to Danny one morning. He was curious about why mommy was talking funny.
It's like a volcano, he replied. Yeah, it all comes out of your mouth like this, POW! he motioned, spreading his hands wide away from his mouth. It's all about explosions with this kid. And monsters ...
|You're gonna share with dad, right?|
I want my cake now, Fiona informed us after dinner Saturday night. No one had said anything about cake.
Owie waggled me, Fiona said at dinner. He shakes his head from side to side on cue when we say "Waggle waggle."
It was a fun time at the park, Danny says after our Easter morning walk around Duke Gardens.
Well, we'd have never known it from all the whining you did, Jim replied.
God is good. God is great. Let us thank him for our food. And our daily bread on our plate. Thank you for Nana and PopPop. Help us to know something like this. Skin-a-ma-rink. Amen. The original line from the prayer at preschool is "Help us to know Your way."
HEY. What's the rule? I ask Fiona when I catch her in the act of climbing the baby gate.
No, she replies. Yep, that sums up the rules when you're two years old.
Doesn't that smell good, Danny? I ask as dinner is simmering in the crockpot.
It's like fresh country air. Um, no, actually, it's chicken burritos.
Stop asking me why.
Why? I'm just going stick my head in the oven now, okay?
Where's the baby? I ask Jim. I ask this question way too often.
He's in the dining room finishing his dinner. Off the floor, of course.
Danny, take a deep breath and count to 10 before you react.
1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 10. I'm trying to teach him the art of pausing when agitated. Maybe we should just count to five.
The next day ...
Danny, remember, count to five before you react.
Five, he replies. I turned my head and silently cracked up laughing at that one.
Danny, come here.
Danny silently stares into space.
DANNY, come here.
Danny, do you hear me talking to you?
Yes, he says.
What were you thinking about while I was talking?
The biggest giant. Oh, well, then. So sorry to interrupt.
What is on that napkin? I ask Danny when I find him cleaning the windows with a drenched napkin.
How did you spill all this lemonade from a lidded cup?
With a straw, he says, nonchalantly. Oh, thanks for clarifying.
Does anyone know what stupendous is a fancy word for? Danny's preschool teacher asked while they were reading "Fancy Nancy."
Stupid, Danny pipes up. Mommy was just so proud.
We'll celebrate Owen's first birthday this weekend. Where has the time gone?
Have a great weekend, everyone.