It’s getting late, but I wanted to share some pictures from the weekend.
Aaron had a great birthday. We went on a family bike ride in the morning—about seven miles in to the playground and then seven miles back to the water where we had lunch together at the Riverside Café. He woke up to Clara singing happy birthday. She’s a sweetheart. Steak for dinner; fruit pizza for dessert.
Clara is starting to say some funny things. She’s caught on that I have a name, too, and it’s Sherry. Sometimes she likes to joke with me and say “You’re my Sherry” when I tell her she’s my Clara. It’s incredibly strange to hear your three-year-old call you by your first name.
Lately, when things aren’t going her way—when, for instance, not all the Ovaltine has been mixed in to the milk—she’ll exclaim, “I am so upset!”
William has gotten two fat teeth on top—none on the bottom yet. He is also much more reckless than Clara ever was. I did not realize until William came along how little we really had to worry about Clara, especially since she refused to walk until she could do it perfectly. He scratched his nose this weekend and just tonight, as he was scurrying across the dining room, his hands gave out and his two fat teeth cut his lip a little. Of course, Clara wails at a stubbed toe and William gives one good, hard scream at a bloody lip and feels better.
My dad polished up one of Sam’s and my old desks and Clara loves to retreat to her bedroom to paint or color.
The only thing William has really cried about is more ice cream. I gave him a small little taste of mine one night and he went for it like a wild animal. This is “someone give me some ice cream” look.
Here’s the more familiar face.
Hanging out on the man-porch with Dad.
Clara likes to arrange our books and read, e.g. sing the ABC song.
Clara shows Dad how to do yoga in the sand.
We love the bike trailer (thank you, Piehs!). The kids will snuggle together for miles and miles. Clara plays Mom, naturally—trying to feed William his bottle and puffs. This time around, she had carefully put his pacifier and bottle in the bag so that they would be handy when he needed them. On our commute home from work, she likes to laugh at William but gets her feelings hurt on the occasions when he doesn’t laugh back. She tells me, dejectedly, “Mom, William isn’t laughing at me.”
On the way back, the both feel asleep, but Clara woke up recently enough to pretend like she was a baby with a paci, too. They like to hold hands while they ride together. Stinkin’ melts my heart.
Birthday loving for Dad. Clara took another late nap on Aaron’s birthday while I made the fruit pizza, but when she woke up, she, utterly devastated, cried, “But I wanted to make Daddy’s cake!” She is all love and drama.
Finally, happy birthday to you, Dad. (And, don’t worry we were 1) watching to make sure her hair didn’t catch fire and 2) watching William to make sure he didn’t singe his cute finger.”