When asked if he wanted water, Daigoro replied,
"No, I'm being problematic. I want pop."
Given bacon, Daigoro asked if Marli could remove the fat. He added,
"I'm a vegetarian for fat."
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Treasured Moments
Kenshin walks and climbs quite nimbly now - running is still a little ungainly-looking (gallumphing might be a word for it). His speech hasn't really progressed much at all - somewhat unusual for a nineteen month-old - but not something we're worried about yet.
Daigoro still speaks quite well and continues to show remarkable powers of observation daily. He's going through some odd phases of on-and-off separation anxiety at pre-school - probably arising from the long Christmas break.
Last night, after we put the kids down, Kenshin was crying and not wanting to go to sleep. We decided to wait and see what happened for a few minutes before we intervened. Our bedroom shares a wall with the kids' room and we can often hear what's going on.
We were laying in our bed, when I heard Daigoro start to sing to Kenshin in a soft, gentle voice. I couldn't quite make out the words, and the tune was unfamiliar, but Daigoro was definitely trying to comfort Kenshin with song. It was very, very sweet. About two minutes later, Daigoro stopped singing and sweet, blissful silence fell upon the house.
On the other end of the sweetness spectrum (what I like to term the "razza-frazza kids" end), the children are generally safe enough to be left for a minute or two without someone watching them like a hawk (enough time for me to go to the washroom, or go downstairs for something, etc.), but this little vignette was an exception.
The weekend before last, I was looking after the kids. Marli was in the house but didn't have responsibility for them at that moment (we usually verbally "hand off" the kids to one another a la pilot-in-command transfers on aircraft - a habit which generally avoids the "I thought YOU were looking after them" arguments). I had to go upstairs for something. Marli was already upstairs - I think Daigoro was with her. I figured, "I'll be upstairs for a few moments," what kind of trouble can Kenshin get into?
Heh.
I run upstairs, get the thing that I need, am coming down the stairs and see Kenshin there at the bottom of the stairs with a jar of jam hoisted over his head and about to throw it on the hard ceramic tile floor of our front hall, looking for all the world like some sort of bizarre toddler variant of Charleton Heston playing Moses in the Ten Commandments about to dash the stone tablets down the side of Mount Sinai.
I vault down the last few steps and grab the jam jar out of his hands just as he's about to throw it.
Frickin' jam? Why does a kid want to throw a jam jar around!? JAM!
Razza-frazza kids.
Daigoro still speaks quite well and continues to show remarkable powers of observation daily. He's going through some odd phases of on-and-off separation anxiety at pre-school - probably arising from the long Christmas break.
Last night, after we put the kids down, Kenshin was crying and not wanting to go to sleep. We decided to wait and see what happened for a few minutes before we intervened. Our bedroom shares a wall with the kids' room and we can often hear what's going on.
We were laying in our bed, when I heard Daigoro start to sing to Kenshin in a soft, gentle voice. I couldn't quite make out the words, and the tune was unfamiliar, but Daigoro was definitely trying to comfort Kenshin with song. It was very, very sweet. About two minutes later, Daigoro stopped singing and sweet, blissful silence fell upon the house.
On the other end of the sweetness spectrum (what I like to term the "razza-frazza kids" end), the children are generally safe enough to be left for a minute or two without someone watching them like a hawk (enough time for me to go to the washroom, or go downstairs for something, etc.), but this little vignette was an exception.
The weekend before last, I was looking after the kids. Marli was in the house but didn't have responsibility for them at that moment (we usually verbally "hand off" the kids to one another a la pilot-in-command transfers on aircraft - a habit which generally avoids the "I thought YOU were looking after them" arguments). I had to go upstairs for something. Marli was already upstairs - I think Daigoro was with her. I figured, "I'll be upstairs for a few moments," what kind of trouble can Kenshin get into?
Heh.
I run upstairs, get the thing that I need, am coming down the stairs and see Kenshin there at the bottom of the stairs with a jar of jam hoisted over his head and about to throw it on the hard ceramic tile floor of our front hall, looking for all the world like some sort of bizarre toddler variant of Charleton Heston playing Moses in the Ten Commandments about to dash the stone tablets down the side of Mount Sinai.
I vault down the last few steps and grab the jam jar out of his hands just as he's about to throw it.
Frickin' jam? Why does a kid want to throw a jam jar around!? JAM!
Razza-frazza kids.
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