Ella is at what *I think* is my favorite age right now. She is eight months old (how??) and just makes us laugh with her squeals and slobber and smiles.
She has recently begun rolling everywhere she wants to go, hitting her head on everything in her path. Oh how she’ll cry, but a little pep talk (“ooh, you’re okay!) and she’s back on her merry way.
I’m her favorite person right now and I relish every time her smile lights up just by my presence. I know the time will probably come when my frumpy/mom hairdo/I don’t know anything about anything self will be the black spot in her teenage existence. So right now, I bask in the glory of being the greatest mom on Earth.
I should probably mention that when Carson was around eight months old, we decided that we needed another baby. With Ella being so charming, I vividly remember why I had that urge.
And the two of them together! Oh! My! Ovaries!
Speaking of Carson, two is treating him well and has it’s endearing moments. I love how he has started singing along to his favorite songs, a few words behind like a drunken karaoke singer. “John Deere! Made a better plow, John Deere! Made famous now, John Deere!…” Every morning when he gets out of bed, he goes directly to the box of his Thomas trains and names every one with great enthusiasm. “James! James’ coal tender! Thomas! Annie! Clarabel! Henry! Henry coal tender!…”
He has begun to fart at the dinner table. When asked what he should say when he toots out his bottom, he shouts, “Sank sou!” (thank you) causing me to hide my obvious chuckling.
His love of the Wonder Pets has made him very interested in eating celery. He asks for celery at every meal, sometimes even for a snack. “Celry? Pease Mommy? Wonder Pets celry?”
Conversely, there are some not so endearing things about age two. He has (and has had for a long time) an affinity for all things Daddy. Every morning when I go to get him up, he demands Daddy and throws a tantrum the size of Canada when I groggily explain that Daddy is at work. “No Daddy go work! No Mommy. Daaaaaadddddyyyyy!”
Come to think of it, he can throw a tantrum the size of Canada about most anything.
Meal time has become a spit-fest. Since I’m still learning as a parent, I made a big deal how WE DO NOT SPIT at the dinner table! NO WE DO NOT! So now spitting is ultra-cool and I’m trying to be ultra-cool about it, hoping that no reaction on my part will eventually make spitting so January 2008.
Remember how he asks for celery at every meal? Yeah, well he doesn’t actually eat it. Noooooo! He chews it then spits it out and when he can get all the little pieces out by spitting, he wipes his tongue with the palm of his hand.
Another trait that is less than endearing?
Carson farts at the dinner table.
So what is your favorite age (so far) with your kids?