Two stories from the past week:
1.) Since The Doodle's birth, I have been surprised at The Wog's ability to feel compassion and empathy for her brother. I've been warned that it is likely to change when The Doodle is old enough to lay hands on her toys, but until then I will continue to feel proud and amazed by this thoughtful, kind and generous big sister. The other day I was showering while The Doodle was in his Bumbo, and The Wog was playing alongside him. I heard a thud and then The Wog exclaimed, "Ouch!" in a loud, pained voice. When I quickly looked out to make sure she was okay, she was calmly sitting there, rubbing the back of The Doodle's head. When I asked what happened, she sadly explained that he'd bumped into the wall.
2.)The Doodle expresses extreme happiness in sharp short screeches that his father and I liken to the cry of an angry velociraptor. (Think Jurassic Park.) We were in the waiting area during The Wog's dance class earlier this week and The Doodle was in his favorite standing-while-holding-my-hands position (it is next to impossible to get this child to just sit down); he was completely delighted by himself and expressing it in loud, gleeful shrieks. After about the fifth eardrum-shattering scream, a waiting grandmother--with whom I'd never previously shared a word--wryly declared, "He sounds like James Brown." He kind of does. And he feels good!
While I've been remiss in my picture-taken, their father has (somewhat) taken up slack with his iphone:
The Wog on the seesaw:
Balancing the other end of the seesaw is The Wog's best friend, Lily. They are a good balance in many ways:
Snow, just this very morning:
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