I Hear

Fiona, this one's for you:

Tonight, as Carmen snuggled up next to me and tried to fall asleep, she told herself one of her favorite stories. It's called I Hear; it's a board book and not much of a story book, but she likes it very much anyway. The night went like this:
Snuggle, roll, flip, flop, kick.
"Iiiiiii heeeeaaaaar . . . birt. Twee, twee, twee."
Kick, kick.
"Iiiiiii heeeeaaaaar . . . gog. Ruff, ruff, ruff!"
Kick, kick, asleep.

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I have been working on a post for several days, but keep running out of time to finish it. The usual story, I guess.

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I MUST be sleeping (that's a usual story too, isn't it?), but here's a couple tidbits for the grandmas:

1) A couple of weeks ago, Carmen invented a game called "I'm Asleep." David started playing the game a few days later. It goes like this: Baby puts head down on couch, bed, or other soft, cushy space. Baby is often tired, and is using this opportunity to rest a bit, but doesn't want yet to succomb to sleep. Baby signs sleep and says, "I sleep. Shhhhhh." Baby puts finger over lips and then pretends to sleep (usually eyes stay open, though). And then I nod my head and quietly put my own finger to my lips. Shhhh. Then the baby sits up quickly, signs awake, and says, "I wake!" To play this game properly, repeat sequence at least 29 times, and always remember to think it's funny.

2) Today was the second day of music class, which C&D like very very very much. Carmen sits in my lap and says and signs "More sing!" whenever the group stops singing. David walks around and flirts with everyone sitting in the circle, smiling and nodding and running back to me when they get too close. Seeing all the other children, mostly aged two through four, is the absolute highlight of their week. Today, just before I loaded C&D into the car, I told them we were going to school. C&D know the signs for school and pay attention, and usually follow up saying and signing school with signing "paytenshun!" Anyway, after hearing "school" they ran to the front door, reaching to the handle to get out to the car. When I buckled Carmen into her seat, though, she started to cry. "Potty." Oh, oh. So I took her back in. "Gool," she said, and I pulled up her pants and took her back out. "Potty," she said as soon as she sat in her carseat. Oh, man. Pants down. "Nooooooo! Gooooool!" Okay. Pants up. Back in car. "Potty!" Breathe. David started to whimper. "Potty." Oh, no. So I brought them back inside. They cried, of course, because they wanted to go to school. So I made a mental note to bring some extra diaper wipes, just in case, and marched out. I began to wonder how many years I had before me of being late due to potty problems ("are you sure you don't have to go?"). Then I figured that once they understood their bladders, they'd be at the perfect age for losing things, like backpacks, glasses, shoes, homework, and permission slips for the day's field trip. I realize now how much fortitude my mother really did have, gathering me and my brother to drive across town in stop-and-go rush-hour traffic to the good schools, our eyes sleepy and our stomachs nervous because yes, once again, we were running late. I decided next week we would aim to leave at eight o'clock for our nine o'clock class, just in case. We did eventually make it there only 30 minutes late, just in time for a handful of songs and the opportunity to tell everyone not only hello, but goodbye. And C&D were very happy to see their potties when we got home.