Nora turned FOUR a few weeks ago. She loves Mary Poppins, Frozen (and wants to play "you be Anna, and I'll be Elsa" all the time, and quite frankly, I'm just plain over it), glitter glue, construction paper, and all things crafty. She hates dinosaurs, bedtime, wearing a coat, zipping her coat, when her sleeves ride up on her arms when she puts her coat on, sweatshirts, and when the toe seam on her socks is mildly off-center.
She prays for her friends whenever they are sick and can't come to school.
She had a mild 24-hour tummy bug a month ago, and a mild cold shortly after that, and still tells everyone she has a cough, while I run interference assuring the other parents that she is perfectly fine and I did not bring a sick child to a playdate.
For her birthday, we had a party. She loves to play birthday party, so of course we had to have a real one! The kids made their own pizzas, we played pin-the-tail on the donkey (and I really wish I had a video, because it was awesomely entertaining), and ate an ugly but tasty Frozen cake. Later we celebrated with her grandparents and Uncle Jimmy, and on her actual birthday we took her ice skating. She and I skated for about an hour while Ryan and Joseph watched (well, Joseph eventually fell asleep). For the first half, she mainly wanted to hold on to me, but after that she got a little braver and skated with the help of one of those walker-style push things. She tried it on her own a few times, but she would go a few feet and then get so excited that she would start running, and I'd have to catch her. She fell a few times, once pretty hard, but was such a little champ and got right back up.
In a fit of determination and sneakiness that only a preschooler can muster, Nora found a misplaced pair of scissors and cut her own hair. When I walked into her room and discovered this, I nearly screamed and had to excuse myself to process my shock alone. I then texted my hair stylist, Julie, and asked when her next available appointment was. Thanks to Julie's handiwork, Nora is now the proud owner of an adorable pixie cut and a mother who hides the scissors on the top shelf of the pantry.
Joseph is seven months old. He isn't officially crawling, but he gets pretty much anywhere he wants to go with a combination of scooting, army crawling, rolling, and doing the worm. He likes to roll balls and "crawl" after them. I am constantly on the lookout for small pieces of anything on the floor. Once he figures out how to move his arms in sync with his legs, he will be even quicker, and Zadie's dog bowl will once again turn into a tiny baby bathtub. He also loves playing in the tent he and Nora received from my in-laws for Christmas; I will often find him in there by himself, smiling away.
He has two teeth and I'm fairly certain he is working on another. He has the scratchiest nails on the planet, no matter how frequently I trim them. He is eating two meals of baby food a day and loves to drink water from a for-real, grown-up cup.
We should have made his middle name "The Unpredictable," because no matter how I try, I never know how he's going to sleep at night - or for naps, for that matter. Sometimes he does great; sometimes not. I have no idea why.
He gives me kisses at least twenty times a day by sucking on my cheek. Then he pulls my hair.
Life around here is busy, messy, and always interesting. Every day is a blessing.
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