Harriet is cracking me up these days.
Harriet (handing me her sippy cup): Here, Mommy. Drink cup?
Me: No, that's your cup. See I have my own.
Harriet: No! Drink cup!
(I take a sip)
Harriet: Good job, Mommy. It's good?
While stalling at bedtime (click here for the tune)
Harriet: Timmy, it's Timmy...blah blah blah blah blah LOTS OF FUN!
(a few moments pass)
Donut Man, it's Donut Man...blah blah blah blah blah LOTS OF FUN!
(a few more moments filled with stifled giggles from me)
Diaper, change diaper...blah blah blah blah blah LOTS OF FUN!
In the morning right after waking
Harriet: Ooooohhhhh, Edmund! My sweet boy! (big slobbery kiss on his head)
And there are lots of other funny things that she does, as well as some really naughty things that remind me that a sin nature is inherited and not learned. But she really is the sweetest girl and I love her to pieces. The end.
Then we come to Edmund.
Edmund laughs his head off every time I change his diaper. It's like, "Hooray! Mommy FINALLY figured out why I was fussing. GO MOMMY!"
Edmund looks just like Harriet, which means that he looks just like Steve, which is creepy. Now there are two mini-Steves existing in our home.
Edmund loves Jazzercise. He sits there on Eleanor's lap with this pleasantly smug expression on his little face for over an hour, as happy as a clam. I guess a bunch of sun-starved women jumping around to loud music is entertaining? Or relaxing? I don't know.
And finally, the house.
We live our lives of eating, sleeping, playing, whatever, in 502 square feet. It's small, and it gets even smaller when children and their acquisitions keep piling up. The solution to this phenomenon? Host a Norwex party and totally rearrange the entire house. It's great! Plus, when your 22-month-old child wakes up the next day and declares, "Where's the mess?" you have the reward of telling her, "Yes, Mommy does pick up...sometimes."
Steve is sitting here fidgeting so I should probably talk to him. Happy weekend!