Before it get's cold...

We decided to let our little ones participate in one of their favorite night time activities. Enjoy.

Z in a drawer

He loves to climb in and out. Ah, the little things in life.

First Snow

Snow suit? Check!
Winter jacket with hood? Check!
Mittens? Check!
Snow? Plenty for a 3 year old. :)

Summitting one of the many peaks of Mt. Curiosity

Ah, life with two young boys. It is wonderful and fulfilling, but it also full of boyish things like pretending to:

• sword fight with plastic clothing hangers (not much of a fight when only one of them knows how to wield his instrument of destruction)
• be attacked by a swarm of bugs
• be a collapsing bridge when one or the other tries to go under arms, legs, a head, etc.
• rule one another with brute force - you can guess who usually wins, for now

It is also about wonderful things like learning to spit your toothpaste out when brushing your teeth. This has been a rather difficult thing to teach A, but in the last week or so, he has mastered this task and is even learning how to rinse with water at the end. Woo hoo! (Celebrate the little things, I say!) Do you think I should add it to his growing resume of expertise which currently includes "covers his mouth while coughing most of the time" and "rarely spills his milk"?

While A's been learning to spit, Z's been learning to climb anything he can possible hoist himself onto. He's also learned the fine art of moving furniture to get a better vantage point in the climbing process. Finally, he's learned that if you can climb to get a desired object, then that is much better than walking over to get it. Everything is an obstacle course. I've now created a labyrinth of my dining room chairs to keep him from climbing onto the dining room table which currently houses a TV, portable DVD player and a few old video game consoles and controllers. Z managed to secure a spot on the dining room table twice in one day which did less to the assorted electronics gear than it did to my overactive imagination, and I've since thwarted his attempts of dining room table domination. This will likely only last as long as it takes him to figure out how to line up the necessary furniture to achieve his goal. Thank goodness that room is carpeted and therefore moving the furniture is much harder.

A is also trying to teach Z how to jump. And, not just jump with two feet off the ground, but jump from varying heights. Z however has no idea how to use his little legs as springs, and instead scoots his little feet slowly over the edge of whatever jumping platform A has chosen (think books on the floor in a pile, steps, chairs, etc.) until he falls over at which time they both roll all over each other laughing. Apparently it's a riot. Mom is not convinced.

I guess it is my job, as their mother, to watch and record as my little guys work their way through the many peaks and valleys of Mount Curiosity (in my mind this is a vast mountain range). Wish me luck as they climb and jump and spit along the way.

Nothing

Or, as A says, "noffing." That's his answer to so many things these days.

Q: "What did you do at school today?" A: "Noffing."

Happy Halloween

The big boys decide to do a Halloween dance.

Z


















The KC grandkids

Kidnapping, coercion and brotherly love

I got my first true glimpse of what I thought was a moment of brotherly love and enjoyment, but turns out to be much less ... pure. A and Z had been playing in A's room for awhile. Since A is the only child who can reach the door knob and knows how to open the door, I kept listening for more persistent knocking or at least a decent, blood-curdling scream. Occasionally there would be a knocking on the door, but it was temporary, and I'd heard only the occasional squeak, so I assumed (and hoped) that a) no one was dead and b) they might actually be getting along.

After 30 minutes, I went up to make sure all was well, and lo and behold, it was fine! No blood and all body parts appeared to be in working order.

I left them playing and proceeded to walk down the hall. Halfway down the hall, I turned to look back and admire my beautifully behaved children, and realized Z had followed me, and was about midway between me and A. A rushed up to Z, took the stuffed basketball toy from Z's hand and threw it back into A's room, and A then tackled Z to the ground and proceeded to drag him bodily into A's room.

When I asked A what he was doing, he simply replied "I don't want Z to go with you. He's playing with me!" I told A to let Z up. Z jumped up and happily toddled back into A's room in an effort to play with the toy A had taken from him. A smoothly slid into the room behind his brother and said "We playing now," and promptly shut the door.

I guess it's better that A wants to play with Z than push him away all the time, but one has to wonder where the line is drawn between wanting to hang out because you love someone and, ahem, forcing others to your will because they're smaller than you.

At least no one's bleeding.