It took four days in my week off for Thanksgiving, but I made it. I made it back to you.
We’re enjoying a quick stay in Covington (Kelsey, if you’re out there, what are you doing this Saturday?) with Aunt Anne, Uncle Ray, and Grandpa David. It’s been a great visit, and you can’t beat a Thanksgiving dinner that comes with two different kinds of stuffing.
Clara cracks us up, three-year-old style. We still make a big deal about her poops in the toilet, mostly because they are a big deal, emphasis on “big.” They clog our toilet every time . . . when no other bowel movement from no other member of our family will. So, the other day, she came singsonging from the bathroom, “Oh Daaaaaddddeeee! Something in the potty for you!”
Lately, when we tell her “no” or “not now,” she’ll pout her lip for a second and then say, “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”
We’ve all gone through about three rounds of the flu over the last month, so Clara has grown accustomed to taking all the coughs out of my mouth and putting them in hers, in an effort to make me feel better. Sweetheart.
And William definitely says “Dada” and “I’m done” and “more.” He waves good bye and follows all sorts of directions. His pet name from his sister will be “baby” forever, we hope.
Right now, we are working on getting him out of our bed and into the crib. It has been the year of exhaustion and we’ve gotten into the habit of crashing when the kids fall asleep. As a result, William has become very comfortable in our bed, but now he’s like a kicking water buffalo (I imagine) in the bed. After a minute or two of crying, he’ll fall asleep in his crib now and wake up every hour on the hour until I succumb and bring him back to his happy place around 1:00 a.m. Sleep with Clara was never easy; we can do this.
Now for some pictures. Here are my bumblebee and his Dr. Sister for Halloween. Clara had her heart set on being a doctor for Halloween and all we could find (in the one store where we looked) was some Disney dress-up doctor outfit. But she loved it. She’s easy like that.
Cruisin for candy.
Clara is really into her letters. Makes a momma proud. She loves practicing all her letters and can recognize all of them in print. She sings the ABC song when she’s crying and trying not to be sad anymore. She can write all the easy ones, still fumbling over M and R.
Oh, my blue eyes. William’s favorite game is still “I’ll give you everything I got, even my best popsicle.” More than once we’ve issued a half-hearted, “Clara, give that back to your brother” only to find he’s moved on. We just drove six hours to Louisiana and that boy slept for three and stared out the window for three more. The one-to-three-year old phase is a hard one for me—for us all, perhaps, and although he must put his life in danger at least two times a night, he’s still an easy-going little guy. Exactly what I needed at 33 years old with two kids under five.
Sometimes Aaron falls asleep at story time and Clara has to say, “Daddy, read!” But most times, he’s constantly present with the kids. One Saturday morning when the morning crew came toddling into the living room around 5:30 a.m., Aaron kept Clara happy with all sorts of Daddy tricks. Here, they are painting an airplane craft my parents left behind on their last visit.
6:30 a.m.—Make pancakes.
6:45 a.m.—Wear William in the backpack.
Later that day, he and Clara planted our winter garden of mostly herbs.
The next weekend was a Fall Festival at a church. It was wonderfully nostalgic and homespun with a pie prance, bean bag toss, gone fishin’ booth, and free candy apples. The kids had a great time. We love our church.
Clara was concentrating on climbing this wall thing. She likes concentration. She’s my serious, earnest, never-met-a-rule-I-didn’t-like sweetheart.