Me: I love you, Janey.
Jane: Yyyyyep.
Do the dance!
All three of our kids' personalities can be summed up by their responses to the following little ditty.
Do the dance!
Do the Cornbread* dance!
Do the dance!
Do the Cornbread dance!
One, two, three, get loose!
(At which point I break into some wicked beat-box action.)
(Seriously. It's wicked.)
When this song starts, Henry's head cocks so far to the side in embarrassment his flushed cheek marries his shoulder. His grin stretches from ear-to-ear. He tries desperately not to laugh.
Henry: Daaaad.
Most importantly, he does not dance. It's not that he doesn't dance (the boy can mooooove), he just never wants to be the centre of attention. He doesn't want to be The Show.
Do the dance!
Do the Beancorn dance!
One, two, three, get loose!
Jane closes her eyes (or crosses them in a silly way) and dances. Her arms flail. Her legs jerk. She looks like a bad reaction to heavy medication, and she doesn't care. Completely unselfconscious, she is 100% in it for the fun.
Do the dance!
Do the Shortstop dance!
One, two, three, get loose!
Alice has already been dancing since the first note of Henry's song. The girl never met a beat she didn't like. Standing, she holds herself steady with wide-spread arms that ride the waves of beats like a champion surfer. Sitting, she rocks back and forth to the beat. Her eyes are always on you, making sure you know it: she's The Show.
My kids. Dang.
*I nicknamed Henry "Cornbread" when he was about 3-days old. Jane, who would prefer to be "Just Jane", finally accepts "Beancorn" as an alternative. Alice is "Shortstop." Substitute the appropriate name when you sing it for each kid.
Do the dance!
Do the Cornbread* dance!
Do the dance!
Do the Cornbread dance!
One, two, three, get loose!
(At which point I break into some wicked beat-box action.)
(Seriously. It's wicked.)
When this song starts, Henry's head cocks so far to the side in embarrassment his flushed cheek marries his shoulder. His grin stretches from ear-to-ear. He tries desperately not to laugh.
Henry: Daaaad.
Most importantly, he does not dance. It's not that he doesn't dance (the boy can mooooove), he just never wants to be the centre of attention. He doesn't want to be The Show.
Do the dance!
Do the Beancorn dance!
One, two, three, get loose!
Jane closes her eyes (or crosses them in a silly way) and dances. Her arms flail. Her legs jerk. She looks like a bad reaction to heavy medication, and she doesn't care. Completely unselfconscious, she is 100% in it for the fun.
Do the dance!
Do the Shortstop dance!
One, two, three, get loose!
Alice has already been dancing since the first note of Henry's song. The girl never met a beat she didn't like. Standing, she holds herself steady with wide-spread arms that ride the waves of beats like a champion surfer. Sitting, she rocks back and forth to the beat. Her eyes are always on you, making sure you know it: she's The Show.
My kids. Dang.
*I nicknamed Henry "Cornbread" when he was about 3-days old. Jane, who would prefer to be "Just Jane", finally accepts "Beancorn" as an alternative. Alice is "Shortstop." Substitute the appropriate name when you sing it for each kid.
That's how babies learn
Alice approached the bucket where Henry keeps his dinosaurs. I can only describe it as an old fireman's bucket: tall and narrow. On shaky legs, she hoisted herself up to look inside. There in the bottom were two, tiny toy dinosaurs.
Her eyes widened. She plunged her 13 month-old arm into the bucket's depths. When the full length of her arm proved too short, she went further, and shoved in her shoulder and a bit of her neck.
Still too short.
She lifted one foot to help her get atop the bucket, and was teetering back and forth on the other.
The fall was inevitable. Luckily, she landed on her bottom. Her brow came together into a frustrated 'V'.
She looked at the bucket. It had fallen over beside her. Her brow relaxed, she grabbed the bucket, and turned it upside down...
Her eyes widened. She plunged her 13 month-old arm into the bucket's depths. When the full length of her arm proved too short, she went further, and shoved in her shoulder and a bit of her neck.
Still too short.
She lifted one foot to help her get atop the bucket, and was teetering back and forth on the other.
The fall was inevitable. Luckily, she landed on her bottom. Her brow came together into a frustrated 'V'.
She looked at the bucket. It had fallen over beside her. Her brow relaxed, she grabbed the bucket, and turned it upside down...
Welcome home
A friendly greeter met me at our front window yesterday as I arrived home from work.
Alice: Hai!
Me: Well, hello!
Alice: (charming smile) Hai.
Me: Are you having a good day?
Alice: (pointing back into the living room) Muh ma.
Me: Is Mumma with you?
Alice: Hai.
Me: Hello. It's wonderful to see you.
Alice: Bahl.
Me: You want to play ball?
Alice: Muh ma.
Me: I'll be right in.
Alice: Hai!
Me: Well, hello!
Alice: (charming smile) Hai.
Me: Are you having a good day?
Alice: (pointing back into the living room) Muh ma.
Me: Is Mumma with you?
Alice: Hai.
Me: Hello. It's wonderful to see you.
Alice: Bahl.
Me: You want to play ball?
Alice: Muh ma.
Me: I'll be right in.
We shift gears pretty quick around here
Playing baseball with Henry. Having a very fun time.
Henry: (pausing before a pitch) Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
(I think so, Brain, but if we didn't have ears, we'd look like weasels.)
Me: Um.. maybe? What are you thinking?
Henry: That now would be a pretty awesome time to catch some crickets.
And suddenly we're catching crickets. Having a very fun time.
Henry: (pausing before a pitch) Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
(I think so, Brain, but if we didn't have ears, we'd look like weasels.)
Me: Um.. maybe? What are you thinking?
Henry: That now would be a pretty awesome time to catch some crickets.
And suddenly we're catching crickets. Having a very fun time.
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