You Stop Blogging for a Couple of Weeks

And you get back, and you’ve got two completely different kids.

(Well, that may have been because I left them in the grocery store for a few minutes, and someone swapped.  Hmmm).*

Anyway, the grocery store is what I want to talk about.  Can I introduce you to the new order of things?

It means that I  have more space for groceries, and a better than usual chance that my groceries are going to get slightly smushed by Margaret HELPING, Mommy.  HELPING.

*True story – I had gotten them both wrangled into the cart and had done my shopping and then realized that I hadn’t actually brought my purse in.  So I went to the help counter and asked if I could leave my groceries while I ran out with the kids, and the nice lady came out from behind the counter and said to just run out, and while I was gone she plied my kids with stickers and games of peek-a-boo.  It seems fairly safe.

Times and Places

Margaret is nap-averse.

I mean, there are times that she will imagine considering thinking about taking a nap, but the planets have to be aligned and someone has to be making it worth her while.

And that means that nap time can be a little fraught.

Anyway, the evening of the day on which she refused to take a nap, also managed to acquire a marker and color on herself and the walls, she had a bath.  And while in the bath, she got two washcloths, called one a pillow and one a blanket, and announced that she was having a nap.

Isn’t she sweet?

My Big Girl

As we speak, Margaret is upstairs at my school, going to daycare like she’s been doing it all her life.  I’m on the last 10 minutes of my lunch, then I have 25 more minutes of Latin to teach, my planning period, and then we go off to a playdate.  Margaret’s life is a whirl of gaiety.  So is Ellie’s, but she’s smaller, so it’s less noticeable.

Anyway, a few nights ago, the weather was such that we felt that going to the park by Leo’s office was a feasible sort of a thing to do, and so we did it. 

Margaret is so competent, it terrifies me.

And you see that beanstalk thing next to her that that boy’s legs are on?  She went up that too, although she was less competent at it.  But in a few weeks, she’ll have it. 

And she can hang from the monkey bars all by herself. 

Mea Culpa

We have not had a post for ages, and the reason for this is that I have been driving and driving and driving and then in crazy overtime mode trying to get my Latin course up and running.*

But now, for better or worse, school has started, so I intend to do a little more writing.**

For now, just to keep you all interested, a photodocumentary of Ellie’s introduction to solid foods.

Suspicion.  Deep suspicion. This is the first time in the high chair, and it’s weird.

This is tentative interest.  Notice how her eyes are narrowed.

The first approach.  Still not certain, and wary.

Tongue out; interest is piqued.

Processing, and still very concerned and dubious about this whole thing.

Reaction:  All the carrots belong to me.  In my mouth faster, woman!

Here!  Give me the spoon!

Seriously, Mommy.  N.O.W.

Since then, she has demanded two meals a day, at lunch and dinner, and has accepted nothing less.  If she’s not given them when she wants them, she takes matters into her (fortunately mostly inept) hands.

And when I finally get my spoon out, she is very, very ready for it.

*See?  Mea culpa makes sense.  Yes it does.

**This is paradoxical, but I promise that it makes sense.