January is trying... though nearly not as trying as February (or early March when it feels like February won't go away and yet - it's March! how could it possibly still be snowing and 28 degrees??? - but I digress)... I'm determined to not get carried away with baking too many chocolatey things and fighting the urge to crawl under a big quilt and never, ever come out.
Evelyn suddenly understands what all of our blathering is about and without any consistency baby signs "more", and waves and says "bye-bye" (she said this to me earlier today as she bolted towards the open art cabinet. Soon she will realize that a more subtle approach will likely result in the desired outcome). She says "Dada" and "Mama" and "nigh-nigh" and kisses us all with big, sloppy kisses and claps when she's excited and wants more of something... 9 months is the bestest. I squeeze her and kiss her warm cheeks when she's just woken up, I love to tickle her and listen to her baby chortle, and I want to forever remember her delectableness. Yes, that is a word.
Yesterday Colin and Evelyn ran a mall errand with me. They make a trip to one of my least favorite places a very nice experience. As we walked through the store, Colin's warm hand in mine, he commented, "Mama, everyone is smiling! Everyone is happy!" He is so very socially-emotionally aware. He then said, "I can even feel myself being smiley! I am feeling happy, too!" Glass half full. Pretty much always. It's fantastic. His preschool teachers love passing on little anecdotes of what's happened in class (sometimes it's kissing the other kids, other times it's giving hugs or offering to help his teachers and classmates). On Tuesday they sang "If You're Happy and You Know It..." When they did a "If you're sad and you know it..." verse, he apparently got up and hugged the teacher leading the song, "I'll give you a hug and kiss. Then you won't feel sad." This KID!
Christopher's free play is enjoying a dress up resurgence. The character of choice is a policeman and I am frequently apprehended throughout the day for doing things like cleaning up or cooking. I'm usually led to the living room (often with a small train engineer holding my hand to make sure I don't escape) and handcuffed to the ottoman where I serve out my sentence (varying from 10 minutes to 11 days to many, many years). The food in jail here isn't bad... last weekend I had blueberry pancakes shaped like gingerbread men with syrup, lots of fruit and veggies, and salmon with PB&J topped with chocolate and vanilla ice cream. Memorable, for sure. I recall that the policeman had decided to forgo pants that afternoon, so that made an impression, as well.
He's also set out to learn *everything* about the solar system and secretly reads his space book at night after the lights are out so he can "learn more about the planets."
The mundane day-to-day is made rosy by the endearing and fleeting minute-to-minute.
