They’re getting bigger.
Paul has been tinkling in the potty pretty reliably the last few days. The look of sheer delight and pride that blooms across his face when “it’s comin’ out!” — is my favorite thing in the world right now.
Bryan and I spent a lot of time and care with the kids tonight, executing the bedtime routine with precision and hanging around to chat and cuddle, to make sure they were comfortable in their big-kid beds and—most importantly—not going to pop right out of them the moment we closed the door.
Looking up at it, Annie told me how much she liked the big yellow A that hangs over her bed, and I told her I remembered getting it.
“It was before you were born, but I knew we wanted to name you ‘Annie.'”
She cupped my face in her hands and confided, “I wanted to name you ‘Mom.’ … Who named you ‘Mom?'”
Paul and I had some 1×1 time last night. He’s a talker now. I understand everything perfectly with my mommy-hearing, but for posterity, some translations:
“I did it! Whee! OH NO!”
“My train tracks, back on.”
“NO, GROUND!” Meaning, put it on the ground.
“Help? Me fix? Train tracks. Back on.”
You’ll probably get it from there, but know that hearing a loud engine pass by the house is motivating the second half of our conversation.
Lest it sound too rosy around here, let the record show I just spent half an hour scrubbing human feces out of our carpet after Sous ate (another) one of Paul’s diapers.
And now, a shower.
Annie: Look at what I’m making! It is super cool?
Mom: It IS super cool!
Annie: Yeah, I know.