Working on our aim, the same weekend. The hardest part about sitting in a chair, the babes find, is knowing exactly where to plant their butts. A month ago, Carmen wasn't especially good at it. Today their steering is better, but they still need to refine their aim.
This is the way we take a bath, take a bath, take a bath . . . We don't use the bathtub these days. The swimming pool is more comfortable for the babes, and gives Matt and I a chance to goof off and just watch.
Gotcha! David the day he figured out how to climb and stand up on the futon.
The day Carmen figured out how to rock the horse on her own. The reviews on Amazon said it was virtually tip-proof. Good thing, because both C&D like to rock hard and fast. They can ride for nearly an hour without stopping (except to sign horse, or make clicking sounds with their tongue . . . giddy-up!).
Carmen still needs to practice taking her shirt off. She can pull up on the neck and the sleeves, but not both on the same try. So she gets stuck. She is a teensy bit frustrated here, but, bad mommy, I really wanted to catch it on camera.
Toby has become eternally patient. I think he has become so starved for attention that he will put up with the tugs, pats, and pulls (of fur, or by the tail).
David's top. He can make it spin, but hasn't yet understood that he needs to release it.
Do you think Carmen likes the juicer? This video was two weeks ago; she can sign juice very well, now.
(You can also see that we rearranged the kitchen and office again . . . sort of . . . maybe the babes will me finish by Christmas . . . or Easter?)
David with Rosie the pig at the George Ranch. Now Rosie is with the other pigs; she was just in this temporary pen to get accustomed to life on the stock farm. She's a cool pig.
On the way to Gundermann Farms today. Carmen dancing to her current favorite song and David right before settling in and taking a nap.
Petting the bunnies at Gundermann Farms. Next year, will they ask to take one home?
Petting the patient Gundermann cat (and signing cat). Carmen is wearing her Preschoolians for the first time. She grew out of her Cute Baby Shoes, and that she is running well, it's time for a big-kid shoe. David is still wearing his Cute Baby Shoes. He seems to need the sensory information from his feet, still.
Singleton families have it easy. I watched them at the Water Wall a few weeks ago. While Matt and I waved at each other from opposite ends of the park, each of us chasing after a baby, young couples leisurely wandered with their one (count them, one!) toddler in tow. Or they walked easily alongside their children, at least one of whom was old enough to know how to hold hands and not try to run into the street despite a teddy-bear leash.We laugh at the disparity, and then we wonder. If we had just one baby, would we be expecting too much out of him or her ("travels well, sleeps through the night, and tap dances, too!")? Would we be expecting too much out of ourselves at the same time ("SuperParent to the rescue, saving the world and wiping running noses in a single bound . . .")?
Maybe a set of silly twins is the perfect prescription for a pair of chronic overachievers who are compelled to do everything, all at once. These days we are impressed with ourselves just to eat dinner all together, or drive more than 30 miles without hearing a complaint. And, for now, that's probably how it should be.
The trip to the Water Wall was a study in opposites. Carmen looked up at the structure, while David looked down at the bubbling, boiling water below. Carmen ran with nowhere to go, while David walked slowly, studied, laughed at the feel of the Water Wall's spray on his face. They even ran in opposite directions, leaving Matt and I to just occasionally wave at each other from many yards away. When we left, Carmen tried to wriggle out of Matt's arms, her fat legs kicking the air.
That day, after an unusually long nap, David woke up a different baby. Tentative David became Brave David. He tumbled and rolled and jumped in the bed, letting himself fall on the pillow mattress. Later in the day, when we took him outside, he made a discovery: he could climb up the slide and go down--all by himself. David slid down, We were glad David had 4-5" of playground mulch to fall on (and we got that cart out of way, in case he tried that maneuver again!).
Since then, he's figured out how to enter the slide from the back (through the door, and a scramble onto the platform, no steps) and the top round hole on the side. And his high-altitude climbing conquests continue. Today he figured out how to climb on top of an overturned laundry basket, and was caught trying to climb from the Learning Tower onto the kitchen table. He just needs a bit of a nudge to scramble into the Learning Tower on his own. A couple of weeks ago I found him trying to climb into the bathtub (both he and Carmen have already fallen into an empty tub from leaning too far in). Of course, he can be up on the bed (and back down again) in a toddler-wink, and is a master of climbing up (and down, and up, and down) on the futon when he thinks I'm not paying attention. And then he jumps, of course . . . or runs . . . so Matt and I moved the rug under the futon, and put at least an inch of very thick carpet padding under the rug. At least someone's pride will be the only thing injured if C&D fall.
Carmen realized yesterday that she could jump and fall on the rug to no ill effect. Once on her back she rolls on the carpet, back and forth, hysterically giggling and twirling her hands while kicking her legs into the air.
We will be signing up for the July tumbling class at HGA. We can't wait.
In an effort to dissuade the babes from hopping like fleas all over our furniture, and in recognition that (like fleas) they needed to jump, hop, and otherwise bounce, we bought a moonwalk on the way back from the George Ranch a couple of weeks ago. No, not a Michael Jackson moonwalk. I mean a moonwalk, a bouncy-bounce, bounce-house, an oversized inflatable playpen.We felt so extravagantly suburban buying such a big piece of inflatable PUL polyester. What next, a minivan? But, of course, for the babes --and an attempt to retrieve our sanity--anything.
The babes have mixed feelings about the bouncy. On the one hand, they love it.
On the other hand, they have watched it inflate and deflate. And they are certain the bouncy is possessed. The sight of the bouncy grotesquely moving and filling with air is enough to send C&D into fits. They run away, but then run back . . . they can't NOT take a look. The fits make using the bouncy difficult when Matt isn't home. The bouncy is good for at least an hour of play, so this is a very sad thing (for me, anyway).
Now we are almost all caught up.
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