Friday, December 01, 2006

Scratch That

He can count to 12. This afternoon he counted twelve steps down to the bottom of the stairs, but Matt says he counted to 12 last night.

I remember being small (maybe five?) and impatiently counting the seconds it would take for my mother to drive home. I distinctly remember being somewhere in the middle of the neighborhood, looking around and counting, "five hundred and three . . . five hundred and four . . . five hundred and five . . ."

Such pestering may come back to haunt me, perhaps starting now.

No matter, though. I'm too busy laughing.

Carmen is supposed to have been asleep for the past hour and a half. Instead she's playing on the bed and with my drawers, singing Humpty Dumpty ("dumpty dumpty wall. dumpty dumpty fall. again.") or Hickory Dickory Dock or something. At least she's making her own music. C&D think I'm a walking jukebox, and request their favorite hits often. For instance, if I'm singing something else and David wants to hear Itsy Bitsy Spider, he'll put his face directly into mine. "Piiiiiiiider. Piiiiiiiiiiider," he'll say until I sing the song about the spider that probably shouldn't have been climbing that water spout to begin with. Or if he's eating, and it's too quiet, he'll ask for his favorite, the Rainbow Song. "Rainbow Song," he say, looking at me as if I were a waitress and he was ordering coffee and a sandwich. In other words, I'm not supposed to say "no."

We close on the house today, so I might as well rescue her and get her ready to leave.