Monday, March 30, 2009
Exersaucer
This is Sissy's first time in the exersaucer - she did great but she was far too short! :)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Cindy Lou Who?
This is Sissy after her bath today - how cute is she? She's almost five months old - full of giggles and talking. She spends time pulling her music toy, and even tries to do it with her feet. I have some video footage of it, but can't figure out how to upload it. It is marvelously cute!
Friday, March 13, 2009
Gary and Cheryl Visit Again!
Gary and Cheryl came over for the weekend, and we got to spend a wonderful evening hanging out with them. It's always so wonderful to have them here, and the kids enjoy them so much!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Big Bath
[Warning: This may cause you to never use our bathtub ever. I wouldn't blame you. But I swear I used A LOT of bleach to clean up after this one. A lot. (For those of you who are keeping grammatical score, note that "a lot" is two words. Always. Also note I have used the shower since. But not the bath.)]
It turns out that quite a few personality characteristics are either genetic, innately human or passed on pretty quickly in the first few years. I know this because of William's reaction to an unfortunate bath-time incident.
Saturday morning - Mike sitting at the computer, and Will wants to take a bath. Sounds like a good plan to me. Bath-time, while seemingly labor intensive, is actually one of my most relaxing times. Why? Well, Will entertains himself, and is contained in an area the size of a small closet. Seriously good things. There is no running, no yelling while running, no corralling, no explaining why standing on whatever is dangerous, no explaining that deodorant is not applied to Sissy. It's lovely. So bath-time it is.
Additional information you need is this: we're working on the pooping in the potty concept. Will so far wants nothing to do with the actual potty as far as poop goes. He's interested in peeing on it, particularly in preparation for bath-time, and interested in talking all about the concept, but otherwise, no dice. So, this particular morning Will has decided not to go on the potty (or anywhere else for that matter). I'm aware of this, and watching for signs that he might need to go. So every other minute I'm asking him, "do you need to get out to poop?" "No way," is the answer. (Of course, it's ALWAYS the answer these days.) So I'm not concerned when the incident occurs.
Sissy wakes up, I pick her up and begin to nurse her (while sitting in the bathroom on top of the toilet while watching Will so he doesn't drown - I'm a multi-tasker). All of a sudden Will stands, begins to scream at the top of his lungs "OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!!!!" and proceeds to try to launch himself out of the tub. Keep in mind I have NO hands available to help this process, and have NO idea why he's freaking out. He's literally grabbing my shoulder, perching himself on the lip of the tub, and I'm trying desperately to keep hold of both kids (one incredibly wet and slippery) so neither falls and cracks their head open. I look at Will, and in desperation he points to the bath as an explanation for his behavior. There is the biggest, most manly poop I've ever seen floating there among the toys and ducks.
I scream for Michael, he comes running in, and all is eventually cleansed and handled. However, I'd like to know where the fear of the utter grossness of poop comes from. Is it born? Is it bred? Or is one of those innate human fears, like the fear of snakes, scorpions and the like, which are common to most cultures? Or is it simply a genetic predisposition that Michael and I have happily passed on to our little creature? All this gives us much to think on.
No pictures on this post for obvious reasons.
It turns out that quite a few personality characteristics are either genetic, innately human or passed on pretty quickly in the first few years. I know this because of William's reaction to an unfortunate bath-time incident.
Saturday morning - Mike sitting at the computer, and Will wants to take a bath. Sounds like a good plan to me. Bath-time, while seemingly labor intensive, is actually one of my most relaxing times. Why? Well, Will entertains himself, and is contained in an area the size of a small closet. Seriously good things. There is no running, no yelling while running, no corralling, no explaining why standing on whatever is dangerous, no explaining that deodorant is not applied to Sissy. It's lovely. So bath-time it is.
Additional information you need is this: we're working on the pooping in the potty concept. Will so far wants nothing to do with the actual potty as far as poop goes. He's interested in peeing on it, particularly in preparation for bath-time, and interested in talking all about the concept, but otherwise, no dice. So, this particular morning Will has decided not to go on the potty (or anywhere else for that matter). I'm aware of this, and watching for signs that he might need to go. So every other minute I'm asking him, "do you need to get out to poop?" "No way," is the answer. (Of course, it's ALWAYS the answer these days.) So I'm not concerned when the incident occurs.
Sissy wakes up, I pick her up and begin to nurse her (while sitting in the bathroom on top of the toilet while watching Will so he doesn't drown - I'm a multi-tasker). All of a sudden Will stands, begins to scream at the top of his lungs "OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!!!!" and proceeds to try to launch himself out of the tub. Keep in mind I have NO hands available to help this process, and have NO idea why he's freaking out. He's literally grabbing my shoulder, perching himself on the lip of the tub, and I'm trying desperately to keep hold of both kids (one incredibly wet and slippery) so neither falls and cracks their head open. I look at Will, and in desperation he points to the bath as an explanation for his behavior. There is the biggest, most manly poop I've ever seen floating there among the toys and ducks.
I scream for Michael, he comes running in, and all is eventually cleansed and handled. However, I'd like to know where the fear of the utter grossness of poop comes from. Is it born? Is it bred? Or is one of those innate human fears, like the fear of snakes, scorpions and the like, which are common to most cultures? Or is it simply a genetic predisposition that Michael and I have happily passed on to our little creature? All this gives us much to think on.
No pictures on this post for obvious reasons.
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