Some observations over the past few weeks....
I've decided that Colsen thinks necks are hilarious. He thinks it's soooo funny when a person's head nods up and down -- like it shouldn't be able to do that or something. If you want to get a real hearty chuckle from this kid, just bend your head around a little and show him you have a neck. He'll think you are quite the funny creature.
And if there was any question about whether or not dramatic genes run in this family, that question has been answered. We have not one, not two, but now three intensely dramatic kids. For example, if I am carrying Colsen around and he begins to get an agenda, or at least has some expectations that he's concocted about how he's going to be fed or played with, and then I put him down on the floor..... Well! He gets sooooo upset. He immediately buries his head in the carpet and wails -- he won't even poke his head up like he normally does. And it's such a heartbreaking cry... And it usually works-- he gets picked back up!
So now the real question is: Where did all these dramatic genes come from?
What a little nut this girl is!
She can be so silly...
Like when I panic because I can't find her anywhere downstairs... but then I see a pair of little feet poking out of the side of Colsen's infant car seat, and she's been sitting in there sucking her thumb for several minutes.
... And she can be mischevious...
Like when she was downstairs by herself one morning for awhile and Pete yelled down to her, "Rayna, what are you doing?" and she yelled back, "I'm not touching the muffins on the counter!"
... And she can be oh so stubborn...
Like when she persists on telling her teacher that her last name is "stoodies"
... And she can be oh so sweet...
Like when she woke me up one morning last week by coming to the edge of my bed and kissing me lightly on my forehead. (the BEST way to be woken up)
But a good babysitter she may not be....
A couple weeks ago I was having a hard time getting things done for the class I had to teach that week. One evening when Pete and Strider were out, Colsen and Rayna were taking turns being very needy. Then I put Colsen in his little swing and Rayna started playing with him and getting him to laugh. Seeing my brief window of opportunity, I ran into the other room to enter grades on the computer. I kept listening.... and Colsen kept giggling and Rayna kept talking in silly voices. Then suddenly Colsen gave a brief cry... and then it was quiet. I ran back into the living room...... and found Colsen playing on the floor and Rayna in the baby swing!! Fortunately, the swing only sits about a foot off the ground, but still!
.... But even if she's not the most responsible babysitter, she IS learning the more important aspects of mothering...
Last night, she was playing with her baby panda, and she said, "I'm going to put him to bed." She stuck him in the crib, and then very softly and sweetly sang "Jesus Loves Me" to him.
And Some Stuff about Strider:
Strider had an exciting experience a few weeks back.... He got to go to the Wachovia Championship golf tournament. A student of mine gave us some tickets for the practice round, so Pete took Strider and they had a fun day together. Here is Strider's "report" he wrote later:
Tuesday May 1.
I got to see Ernie Els.
I did not get to see Tiger Woods.
I got a frozen lemonade.
It was 95 *.
I went on a bus 2 tims.
It was grat.
(I helped him spell the big words)
He's also recently decided that a Comedian has got to be the BEST job in the world.
And he's all about the U.S. Presidents these days. He memorized the order, and now he's been busy looking up how long each of them was in office, etc. And he asks anyone he talks to who their favorite president is and why -- so be prepared!
Life with these nuts is good...
Last night as I was folding laundry, and listening to Rayna singing to her baby panda, Colsen bouncing in his Jumpster and Strider downstairs peppering his dad with questions about U.S. Presidents, I realized I was in the middle of one of the sweetest moments of life. Until, that is, a few minutes later when Strider walked into my room wearing one of Pete's old shirts as a nightshirt for bed. Somewhere he had found a 7-up shirt that says "Make 7" on the front and "Up Yours" on the back. When I expressed dismay, he kept following me around saying, "but I don't get it -- what does it mean??"