We just measured Zoe - she is 27 inches long. That is OFF THE CHARTS above the 97th percentile! That's my girl. So far as we can tell she's about 15 pounds, 40th percentile for weight. And 999% cuteness.
1. Two mad scientists (People kept asking me if I was Michael's assistant... I got annoyed and started telling them I was the evil genius and he was my hunchback.) 2. James the Train ("No, I'm NOT Thomas!") 3. Prettiest flower in the field She's such a darling little daisy.
Jed danced half naked upon the couch. Guess who's got a sense of humor!? She laughed until she got the hiccups so bad she couldn't breathe. I never knew they would be such friends so fast. Zoe has NEVER laughed for anyone like she will foe her big brother. (Sorry these videos are so bad... always in the dark with my camera phone!)(And now I see the sound isn't working again. Darn blogger, why does it do that with my camera's videos? Oh well, if you want to hear the darling, adorable, delicious laughter that goes along with it, drop me a line and I will email it to you.)
My sleep training is going well. Whenever I drive home at night, I turn the heater up an give everyone a blanket. Then I pop in our new favorite CD, a Jazz Lullaby gift for Zoe from Paul and Maria, which we just love. It is VERY relaxing. The dark quiet road, subdued tones of The Velvet Fog, and warm air combine in a magical way that almost completely knocks me out. That's right, by the time we get home, I'm barely able to keep my eyes open and the kids are wide awake.
At home, our bedtime ritual still involves bath, books, family prayer, and toe pinches. But why is it that Michael can get away with reading like THREE pages out of a twenty five page picture book? He just randomly chooses disconnected bits to read and then announces "THE END," and Jed totally swallows it. When I try to do that during Quiet Time, we are all protestations and discontent. Today, Jed grabbed the popularly detested "Rotten Ralph's Nine Lives" and disgustedly said, "Mom, I need you to read the lots of pages. LOOK!" He turned to each skipped page and demanded I read every word, pointing to the sections I surreptitiously attempted to forget.
Also, any boring children's book can be improved upon when made into a full family opera.
Also, whining children can be harmonized upon with considerable enjoyment.
I lifted Jed up into his booster seat. As I tucked him in, he looked at the cheesy enchiladas I'd prepared and said, "What a lovely meal, Mommy!" I kissed him on the head, sat down and sighed happily. He looked up, sighed in imitation, and said "I love you, too, Mom."
I love Jed's verbal patterns. He sounds like a little child from Charles Dickens.
"Mommia, Mommia, shall we build a temple now? Shall we? Shall we?"
Yesterday he climbed on to my lap after quiet time. He smiled and rested his head against my chest. Then he leaned back and looked at me with a quiet, luminous gaze. "Mom, did you have a lovely nap?" Yes, Jed. "I'm so glad you had a lovely nap, Mommia."
Maybe we've been reading a wee bit too much Peter Rabbit. But oh, the darlingness!
The other day I walked into the living room, where my poker-faced husband desperately attempted to hold in his laughter. Across the room, my son screeched, body taut, chin jutted out, face purple and stomping in emphasis:
STOP THAT, DAD!!!!!!!!! YOU AREN'T LISTENING TO MY INSTRUCTIONS!!!!
I TOLD YOU TO LISTEN AND OBEY!!!!!!!!
Well, at least we know that after all my careful, gentle teaching, the gist is finally sinking in.
I am grateful for a husband who, upon my arising in the morning, tells me I look "magnificent!" Why? Because when my hair sticks up all over the place, he looks at me with total sincerity and tells me I have plumage like a bird of paradise. :) I love that man.
Yep, crazy hair is hereditary. We used to call Mom the scarecrow. And now Zoe has inherited the plumage. I'll try and get a matching picture.