1. Asher read his bedtime story to me tonight. There are a few he has memorized, and he "reads" those to us often, but tonight he read a book he hasn't seen before. I have to say, it is SO COOL to watch my little boy learn to read.
2. And Emmy flat-out skipped a stage of development. You know that late-baby phase where they sit on the floor and play with toys for a while, then slowly begin to crawl around on a blanket? When they eat baby food and sleep through the night (or so I've heard, anyway) and just kind of watch whatever is going on for a couple of months? Emmy didn't have time for that stage. She's eating nothing but people food now (and has been for a few weeks), and anything that can be turned into a finger food, she feeds herself. Noodles, cucumbers, green beans, frozen blueberries, macaroni and cheese, potato soup, broccoli ... we had lunch today with my parents and sister, and Emmy ate so many chicken nuggets and french fries she threw off our kids' meal count. We should have just bought one for her, too. Asher ate nothing from my plate, ever, because I was a Good Mom back then, and Silas was allergic to everything, so this is my first time to just feed a baby a little of whatever I'm eating.
I have to say, this is a. WAY easier, and b. more fun than being so stringent about their food. It helps that we don't eat a ton of processed food anyway (the occasional fast food notwithstanding) so it's a little easier to feel okay about what she's eating.
My little Emmy is also standing up in the middle of the floor, pushing a push toy around the house, waving and saying, "Hey Da" at Brian, attempting to sign "all done," using a consistent sound that means "eat," and clapping and saying, "hooray!" approximately thirty eight times a day.
The girl is nine months old.
See? She just skipped a stage.
3. Silas is growing up in ways that are harder to quantify. He's very nearly potty trained (though I don't want to say that too loudly, because I am afraid I will jinx it), recognizing letters and numbers and SO VERY proud of his papers from preschool. On Fridays their work from the week is sent home, and as soon as he sees me pulls out his folder and describes it from the back seat ("Mama, this is my purple four I painted just for you").
He has also reached that stage where no amount of coaxing is going to convince him to stay in his bed during naptime, but the boy still desperately needs a nap most days. Naptime requires finesse. The right movie at the exact right time (not too early, or he won't be tired enough, not too late, or he'll be overtired and won't settle down), and he'll fall asleep on the living room floor in about ten minutes. But if you miss your window in either direction, none of us get a proper quiet time, and it throws the whole afternoon off-kilter. Dropping the afternoon nap is the despised underbelly of raising a three-year-old.
With that I'm off. There's more to tell, but I'm running out of steam.