(totally out of the blue) "I'm going to have 2 sons and 2 daughters. My daughters' names will be Lily and Daisy. My son's names will be McKinley and Lewis."
"I love this (stuffed) mosquito. He's going to be my helper today. His job is being my friend. Every day I have to check his legs with this wrench to make sure they're ok."
"Before there was the earth and the universe, there were purple cars." Somewhere James Earl Jones is shaking his head.
(while I was rushing around last-minute packing for Indy and simultaneously trying to dress and feed 3 children) "Mommy, it looks like you're having some big feelings right now."
Truth: The Nugget grew so quickly that he wore both of these bear coats within his first winter. The little one is 6-12 months that we bought in October 2007. The bigger one is 24 months that he wore starting in January 2008. They give me great pleasure when I push my baby bears into preschool to pick up that big boy.
Nugget 3 months in bear coat #1.
Nugget 7 months (looking a little Spork-ish) in bear coat #2.
Recent Baby Mischief:
The babies have discovered the tunnel. Tater likes to go in and giggle. Spork prefers not to go inside but likes to run around it and peek into each end. Spork will see it folded up neatly in a corner and beg for it, "Eh, eh, EEEEHHHH," until someone sets it up for him.
I forgot to latch the dog crate tonight and found both babies inside, happy as clams. The Nugget joined them and laughter ensued for the better part of an hour.
Whenever Tater finishes her dinner before the boys (which is most nights), she darts straight under the table to find her Nugget, much to his dismay. The Nugget, like a dog, requires personal space while he eats. So the rest of my meal is spent trying to shoo her away from the Nugget while still feeding Spork and delivering the zillion things that are requested during the course of a meal - more ketchup please, more milk please, seconds please, I need a new napkin, Spork needs a washcloth, I could go on. I now understand why my mother ate all her meals standing up at the kitchen counter.
Both babies are at the stage where they dart from one forbidden item to another. Having 2 babies complicates this matter for me. Spork is slow and deliberate, at least. Tater is swift and silent as a ninja, it's truly terrifying. I was loading dishes in the dishwasher one evening while she played in the other room with the boys and Daddy. I turned to shut the dishwasher, and she is poised on all fours, on top of the open door, never even heard her come in the room. I'm about to end my open bathroom door policy, because when I let them follow me in there, Spork heads right for the toilet paper, and Tater tries to climb in the bathtub or eat things out of the trashcan.
Spork sets booby traps in our bedroom. We sneak in, fumble to plug in Spork's monitor, and hold our breaths, hoping Tater will stay soundly asleep every night when we're ready for some shut-eye. But lo and behold, if we haven't done a sweep, Hubby will stub his toe on something that squawks, "7-8-9! Siete-ocho-nueve!" and that will be the end of that! Lately, Hubby has been taking pride in showing me the traps Spork has set for him, "Look at this one! A tin and a tambourine!"