Everett’s last few dinners have been amaranth-quinoa salad mixed with kefir, pot roast cooked in wine (all the alcohol boils off, right?), and red-lentil daal in coconut milk accompanied by a side-dish of cucumber raita. All that was ground up, of course, because he is only 6 months old. But, my, he’s an adventurous eater.
He’s also at a wriggly stage. He doesn’t like to be held for more than 30 minutes: this boy wants to move. And he is offended to be placed down on his back, like a little baby. He only wants to sit or try to stand. Most of all, he wants to lunge forward and attempt to crawl. This is admirable, and adorable, and very VERY dangerous. I find myself celebrating like a bad factory pr department: “12 hours without an accident! A whole 36 hours since the last head injury!”
I thought I wouldn’t ever stick my kid in a playpen. He’s not a zoo animal; he doesn’t need a cage. But, it turns out, the playpen is one of the softest safest spaces for him to explore. He seems truly happy to be in there, and, so far, it’s one of the few places he has remained injury-free. So, lately, I’ve been dragging his pack-n-play out to the front yard. Everett has been enjoying hurling himself about the soft playpen, while I work on killing our lawn and replacing it with xeriscape (which is surprisingly hard work).
Sophie has been having her own adventures.
“I’ve always wanted to save the day,” Sophie said. “Now I have.” She helped out when our friend’s 2-year-old locked herself in the car, with the keys. The two-year-old refused to cooperate with any attempt at getting herself out. Fortunately, the car-trunk was open. Unfortunately, no adult could fit through the crawlspace between trunk and backseat. Sophie saved the day, crawling into the car and unlocking the doors. She’s at that magic age: small enough to do kid things, but big enough to understand instructions.
Now I just need to figure out how to get her to wipe her own nose. She walks around nonchalantly with boogers hanging off her face. Is this a stage that will soon pass? I hope so.
She’s also learning to write words. I find pages she has left around the house: “SOPHIE POOP POOP SOPHIE.” “Sophie Love Isabel Ben Jones.” Those are the words that are important to her right now.
She’s fabulous at finding ways to engage her little brother. Yesterday, they were practicing splashing in the bath in unison. The day before, they were both pushing a helium balloon around, laughing uproariously. I know that infants aren’t supposed to play with helium balloons, but, really, would you have stopped that lovely sibling play?