Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Realizing I've had a lot to say about the kids in the past few posts, but what can I say -- five days at home in the boonies and there's not much else but chores and family to fill the void. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I love the little tykes; they keep it all so real...

Why, just this evening precocious three-year-old Willow reminded me not to take seemingly simple answers for granted. Note to self: though surely "playing doctor" won't have the sexual component for a while, accepting this as a decent no-check-up response to what are you doing, Willow? may result in such odd follow-up as trying to wipe an entire tin of mint lip balm from a plastic babydoll while apologizing to Mama for not realizing the kid was using all the balm in the first place.

Then there's the baby, who wows the crowds at the local crafts fair and, like her sister before her, never cries in public. Surely the universe will forgive me for repeating, smugly and ad infinitum, the phrase yes, and she's homemade, too! when folks cooed from behind their crafttables (given the venue, it just seemed so situationally relevant).

Incidentally, I discovered something interesting today: roughly 100% of all middle-aged women will say hi! in response to my cue to the baby to say hi! to them. If this suggestability could be harnessed, we'd have childcare for eternity. (100% of respondents also get lightly embarassed when you respond not you, the baby!, by the way. Note to self: we plan to live here forever; less smarmy responses will likely result in better community relations.)

Speaking of speaking: for a while there, it looked like Da Da was going to be baby Cassia's second word. Three days later, though she still waves back to me when I come around the corner (hi da da!), she also utilizes the noise for such diverse iterations as doggie hellos, foodfightin' words, and, syllabic ad infinitum, mere skybabbling. Turns out d is merely her first consonant, da her second syllable. First step: trying to wean her off calling her Mama da da da. Alternate possibility: rename the universe. Nothing's too good for my wee ones, after all.

Back home, we're still negotiating the right family balance between the increasingly crawlmobile baby and the three-year-old tendency -- until recently entirely acceptable -- to leave smalltoys scattered across communal playareas. No small objects swallowed yet, but it seems just a matter of time. Note to self: mapquest nearest ER ASAP, just in case.