Toddlerita Mindworks

When asked why she cannot put on her shoes by herself, which she has done many times before: "I have run out of shoe power. When you put them on, I will have shoe power again."

A snapshot, 5:30 pm today: the big one is naked, the little one is naked. One is wrapped in a blanket on my chest, the other is lying on a sheepskin, pretending to be a lamb. Charles is not expected home for four more hours. ("Mama Ewe, where is the Ram?") I am placing bets with my other personalities (spawned by sleep deprivation) as to which of my offspring will pee first. Fortunately for my neighbors, I am fully clothed, though my shirt sports a healthy coating of spit-up and flour (We have been making bread. If you had two children alone all afternoon and evening, of course you would decide to MAKE BREAD FROM SCRATCH, wouldn't you? Especially when one of the children needs to nurse approximately every 20 to 45 minutes, and the other needs help changing "Bride" costumes every five.). Might I add that I am also making dinner at this time? A lovely meal of steamed broccoli, lentil soup, rolls, tofu-kan and chicken. From this expansive spread, the toddler eats the inside of one roll. ("I do not want lentil soup! The Tofu-Kan is too hot for me! I want orange juice!") I slurp lentils over the babe's head as I jiggle her. Only two hundred and twelve more minutes until Charles gets home!

P.S. I saw the unchivral librarian on the street today, and gave him a very hard glare.

All of a sudden, the Toddlerita can write her name and draw surprisingly proportional pictures of people. She also knows the days of the week, in order. Those school folks sure know what they're doing.

She comes in this morning, dressed in a tutu with matching headband and slippers. "I am a bride. Let's go on our honeymoon." "Where are you going on your honeymoon?" Charles asks. "The hospital." "OK, why don't you go downstairs and go to the hospital, then come back up when you're done there." (This technique is known as "hitting the toddler snooze button.") "OK." Thump, skip, thump down the stairs, and back a few minutes later. She has a doll stuffed in her shirt. "I have to tuck in my belly. It is very big." She pulls the doll out, and states, "This is a little sister for my little sister." I guess that works because she said first she was going to marry me, then Charles.

The Wee One smiled at me today. She currently smells overpoweringly of garlic, because I was holding her as we ate out today and dripped pizza runoff on her head. I'll be eagerly awaiting that Parent of the Year award! She has outgrown the first set of baby clothes and diaper wraps, and is working on holding up her head. She gives a small yodel of glee when she sees the Venetian blinds in my bedroom. I think she is going to be either a Nobel physicist, or an Olympic sprinter. But no pressure, kid.

Sleep deprivation, bah! I stare at you in the face and laugh at you!