Little Picasso

No one invited Charlotte to take pen(s) in hand. She just got a yen. So impressed, was I, with her first work of art that I plopped her down on the floor with a fresh marker and a pad of paper. She immediately put the pen in her mouth and dribbled non-toxic blue ink for an hour. Drool is a standard art form, yes?

Born to Ride

Harry and Ava

Harry loves older kids. He digs their "maturity," their instincts about which snack to choose, the seasoned way they needle their parents. While Harry is very squarely in the stage where he's not listening to me (about anything), he was happy to listen Sunday to his friend Ava, a lovely 3-and-a-half year old who was probably the only one who could keep him from leaping into the lion's den.

They had a wonderful time. Harry gave her a tour of his favorite stops (the peacocks, the elephant house at bath time) and she brought some brownies she baked, to share. It was a very nice date. (A big thank you to Ava's mommy for taking pictures).

Sorry Charlie

I knew Charlie was teething, nibbling on everything she can get her hands on. I knew she had four, big choppers. What I did not realize is that she had a fifth. Not just breaking the skin. No, a big, fifth tooth. Out there. Front-and-center. I was stunned when I saw it last night. Today I will make it up to her.

Yesterday Harry and Charlie both sampled the local pool water at their friend Jack's house. "Well it's not Evian," mused my daughter, "but I like it very much."

Tiptoe, to the Train Table

For months and months we have eschewed our baby gates. They remained largely open, mostly serving as a toy for Harry to bang back and forth. Then it happened this morning, as unpredictable as a lightening strike, Miss Charlotte became a cruiser -- from sofa to ottoman to chair, as fast as her chubby little legs could carry her.

So it's hello again to locked gates and padding sharp corners and being super diligent about every corner of the house as she tiptoes around like a drunken sailor. Her favored destination? The train table. Watch out Harry, she's gunning for your stuff.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

I was dubious. The arrival of the 'big boy bed' on Friday stirred up fears of sleepless nights and a toddler roaming the house at all hours. But Harry embraced his new little space with gusto. After a busted nap or two he quickly settled in, sprawled out on the spacious mattress (makes him look so small, one benefit for the mother worried that her little boy is growing up too fast) and fell fast asleep. While we've kept the crib in his room since the bed arrived, he has, as Madeline would say "pooh, poohed" it. So I guess it's so long to the crib, and that oh-so-precious part of Harry's life. A moment of silence, please.

Happy Birthday...to Me!

I have the best birthday helpers around. This morning, before I could get out of my much loved Super Grover pajamas, I was treated to a dessert tart flambe (that's lit with candles to you and me) and serenaded by my husband, nanny, best friend, toddler and one cooing baby who wanted to poke the flames. Who could ask for anything more?