Dis Thing

Annabel's still nurses a couple of times a day, or less if I can finagle it. For her, it's nice quiet time with Mama, and she's not at all ready to give it up.

The other day she woke up from her nap really cranky, so I grabbed a book and she settled in to nurse. Normally, she'll nurse for 5 or 10 minutes then say, "Odder side. I want to nurse on the odder side." But this time she was nursing for 20 or 30 minutes before she sat up and said, "Mama, dis thing isn't working any more. Uh-oh, I tink it's broken."

Yup, I think I'm about ready to wean.

Sweet Potato Sausage

This was one of those lovely parenting moments that I'll probably always remember. Like when Alexander (at age one) toddled over to stand beneath the basketball hoop and I, thinking I wouldn't make it, thinking it was probably the safest place for him to stand, shot the basketball. Poor, unsuspecting Alexander watched the ball fly to the hoop. He tipped his little head back and watched the big, orange ball come down through the net, down, down, to smash into his little face.

Not one of my shining moments as a parent.

Here's another one, though not quite as bad. We were coming home late after picking Alexander up from school. Annabel was tired and cranky and hungry. She screamed hysterically when I set her down to prepare lunch. Then she wouldn't eat any of it, even though she loves sweet potatoes. She only wanted to be in my arms. So, I strapped her to my back and she calmed down.

As I got Alexander's food ready, I gave her bites of sweet potato on a fork. I couldn't see her eating them, but every time I reached around with the fork, the bites disappeared. After 7 or 8 such bites, Alexander said, "She's asleep. And she's got food in her mouth."

I asked him to get it out, since I couldn't reach, but he said it was too gross. Finally, I went to the mirror.

I had to take her off my back to get the sweet potato out, and she woke up during the process. A huge sausage of sweet potato came out of her mouth! I couldn't believe her mouth could hold that much. I don't think she swallowed one bite of what I gave her. She must have fallen asleep on the first bite. And I just kept shoveling it it!

My poor kids.

Bad Dad

Last week Alexander was drawing on the window with the window-crayons he got for Christmas. Mostly he scribbled. Rarely does he actually try to draw something.

After a while he started writing letters, practicing what he's learned in school. He would say the sound of the letter t-t-t then write the letter itself: T.

"d-d-d," he said, writing D.

"a-a-a." He wrote A.

"d-d-d." He wrote d. Then he stood back, looked at what he'd written and said (with delight and surprise), "Dad!"

It was the first word I've ever seen him create. I knew he was learning to write letters in school, but I hadn't realized he was putting them together to create words. Pretty cool.

So I asked him to write another word. Above "DAd" he sounded out b-b-b, a-a-a, d-d-d. BAD.

I started laughing before he had a chance to stand back and read the whole of what he'd written: BAD DAd.

It's a bit hard to read. If you squint (and ignore the P and R he added afterwards) the pink letters spell out BAD DAd.

A few mornings later at breakfast, I was grumbling about Michiel because he forgot to put the trash out so I had to run out there in my pajamas before the garbage truck came. Alexander looked up from his cereal bowl and said with all the wisdom of an almost-five-year-old, "Bad Dad."

It's Not a Joke

The kids have their own joke that they find hilarious. I have to admit, the more they do it, the funnier it becomes.

It goes like this:

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Broom.

Broom who?

It's not a joke. It's me, Broom.

Are you laughing yet? Give it 20 or 30 more times. Oh, and it helps to have a cute little not-quite-two-year-old trying to upstage her brother by yelling in her halting yet surprisingly well-articulated English, "It's me, BROOOOOM!"

Annabel is in a parrot phase right now. If you rest your elbow on the table and cup your chin in your hand, she'll do the same. She watches every move and tries to imitate everything, saying, "Ah-bell do it TOO!"

She tends to over-emphasize the last syllable of whatever she's saying.

Christmas tree

Christmas has come and gone. Oom Maarten is here. And this is the post I drafted weeks ago:

Well, we got it! Tramped out into the half-frozen, half-muddy forest of Christmas trees and found our perfect one.

I have to beat down the urge to try to arrange the lights and ornaments perfectly. At one point during the decorating, Alexander said, "Mommy, you need to stop moving all the ornaments."

So what if there are big bald patches with no lights? So what if the kids hang four ornaments on one tiny branch?

Alexander has put himself in charge of watering the tree. The other morning he came dancing into my room with this urgent look on his face. I thought he had to pee.

"Mom, the water's getting so so low. We have to water the tree now!"

Latest Craze

So, Annabel's latest thing is to sit underneath a blanket and read a book. She can sit like that longer than she can do any other thing.

This is how she spent a good twenty minutes this morning:

She calls it her tent and will declare things like: "Mama in tent with Ah-bell!" and "Ah-bell read books in tent!"

I've begun to use this latest craze to my advantage. If she's underfoot while I'm trying to cook dinner, I just throw a blanket over her and she's happy. :)

Bunk Beds!

Well, Annabel has made the transition from crib to bed. There's no turning back now.

The kids are loving their new beds. And even better, we've rigged up curtains for the bottom bunk so they can have their own little tent/cave. (Inspired by Michiel's and Maarten's childhood bunk beds.)