The girls are drawing. Theia drew a picture of our family, and Eliza drew "a monster spitting out fish".
I have decided to take the laid-back view about Theia and Eliza playing with the dead dragonflies they found on the patio, even though it makes me shudder slightly. They are running around the yard with them "to make them fly".
I overheard T and E saying Happy Birthday to Ingrid this morning. I gently reminded them that Ingrid's birthday was over a week ago. "I know." Theia replied, matter-of-factly, "we just wanted to bless her."
I enter the bathroom to find Ingrid with a toothbrush in one hand and Boudreaux's Butt Paste in the other. Thankfully she was not successful in removing the lid.
Theia: "My fake name is Aletheia Vangelis, but my REAL name is Theia."
Theia suggests that we name the new baby "Pony". Somehow I don't expect that will make it to the short list.
The girls are playing dress-up. Eliza comes out of her room wearing ONLY pajama shorts, proclaiming, "I'm pretending I'm a daddy!"
My eldest is under the deluded belief that if she asks the same question, with slight variations, about 4,892 times, she will eventually get the answer she desires.
Jessie and I took the girls to the park to teach them to ride their bikes last night. I think they taught us more about patience than we taught them about riding a bike.
Theia thinks the words "precious" and "special" can be used interchangeably. It always makes me feel wierd when she asks if I can please make a "precious snack" for her.
Eliza at our bedroom door this morning: "Dad, are you getting up? Its already 40:19!"
Jessie and I are amazed that Eliza, since turning 3, seems to have quit sucking her thumb cold-turkey, without any interference from us. Apparently, thumb-sucking is beneath a 3-year-old's dignity
After looking under my daughter's beds I have come to the conclusion that about 75% of the toys they own have taken up residence there.
Ingrid has a sweet penchant for skin-to-skin contact. Often when she snuggles with me, after a few minutes she lifts my shirt enough so she can lay her head directly on my belly. Its not because she wants to feel the baby, because she's done it for months, and she doesn't really understand about the baby yet anyways.
I had the bad fortune to drop a large glass jar on my ceramic tile kitchen floor immediately after Ingrid had dumped out the entire box of Legos on the same floor. Needless to say, mama got to clean up both the Legos and the shattered glass.
Eliza's bedtime prayer: "Thank you that we could go to church, and thank you for my fwip fwops" (I glance down to see that she's wearing mine) Theia's bedtime prayer: "...and thank you that we could go to church, and that all the beautiful people were wearing beautiful dresses..." I love bedtime.
Jessie just took five girls, all dressed in princess dresses and tutus, outside to marvel at a gargantuan spider in our bushes.
Theia to me: "Would you like to have a pet cat, or would it poop in the house?" I'm glad she makes it unnecessary to come up with these excuses on my own.
Eliza's prayer tonight: "thank you that Mama's belly's gettin bigger, an thank you that there's a baby in it. Amen." Amen indeed.
Theia to me: "Is it ok if I wave to the garbage man?" Me:"Sure it is." Theia: "Yeah, they're usually friendly folk."
Ingrid refuses maraschino cherries, but eats pimento-stuffed green olives with great enthusiasm.
Yesterday when Jessie got home from work Eliza looked quizzically at him and then asked "Daddy, did you get your hair cut?" Strange question to pose to someone who has been shaving his head completely for quite some time.
There's nothing that gets you out of bed faster than the sound of shattering glass in your kitchen. I think the gate needs to go up on the almost-2-year-old's bedroom, since she thinks graduating to a toddler bed gives her free license to roam the house at all hours.