February 19, 2009
Will Nati walk? That is the question. I think she took a step-- toward our neighbor when I wasn't looking, of course-- on Monday (16th, for those keeping historical archives). More steps will come any day.
Milena, Milena, Milena---you amaze me each day with your annoying ability to cry, whine, and melt down over the most inane causes. I mean who the bleep cares if papa's car is "blanco" and not "gris" or if I happened to belt Nati in before I got to you? You weren't even near your car seat, so why is it all the sudden so important that we must be serenaded by moans and piercing howls for 10, maybe 15 minutes (and that's not an exaggeration!) What did I do to deserve this??
Alexander-- my grumpy old troll who insists on my answering your riddles before I can get into my own house each day-- you're also capable. Don't take after your sister, that's all I can say. Of late, I like this story about you. The other night I say, "Alexander, what's your favorite dinner ?" (Like I would really drop everything to fix it on the spot, but so what!) To which you reply. . . "Honey." For half a second I wonder ... what? come again? Then I notice the plastic bee in your little hand and realize that my little son is, what else, speaking as if he were a bee! Makes sense now.
Last night at bed after a story about "leaders" and "taking turns being the leader" I ask Milena and Alexander "Who's the leader here?" They both, of course, shout out "I AM." I don't think that either is going to easily relinquish that desire, so battles will arise.
Before bedtime was bath time. I was trying to have a moment, while Alexander and Milena bathed. They started fighting verbally and then physically over a rubber mouse in Alexander's hand. I thought I should intervene, but I just didn't feel like it. Shouldn't they work out their own battles anyway? They did, finally, after Alexander had the satisfaction of taking a delicious bite into Milena's big toe. Ouch.
