We're Mobile, Folks!

There's no doubt that a two-year-old is going to give you more material for writing than a nine-month-old, but make no mistake, our Baby J gives us plenty of laughs, too. Unfortunately, they are just harder to describe without the gestures and noises and imitations. He is such a happy boy, and we are so blessed by his pleasant demeanor!

Until last week, we had been able to plop him down in one place and come back knowing we can expect him to be there. But our little guy has now had the first taste of independence. What started as making circles after alternating from sitting to crawling position 50+ times, has now developed into full-blown, get-after-it, crawling. He is on the go, and proud of it.

At the same time that the crawling began, he started pulling himself up on things and now when I enter his room in the morning, I'm often greeted by his round face popped up over the side of the crib, two bottom teeth gleaming in his million-dollar smile. Of course, that's because I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm Mama, which makes me numero uno to this guy. He's got a good thing going with Dada, and Grandma gets the cheesers, too. But if you're anyone else, you're likely to be greeted by a stoic, chin down, eyes up, unreadable expression. He's the friendliest skeptical guy I know.

Now that he's on the move, I'm imagining my two littles getting into all kinds of mischief together. And hesitant as I am to see them grow up too fast, I'm very much looking forward to seeing them do so together.

"It's No Not Nice!"

One of Layna's favorite phrases of late: "It's no not nice!" complete with pointing finger. Yesterday, she was standing in the kitchen in the morning and the sun was coming through the window illuminating her. She squinted at the window, looking like there was a little spotlight on her, and said, "No sun. No get in my eyes. It's no not nice!"

This happens often: when Josiah, 9 months old, "takes" her lovey or a toy she's not using; when her dad or I steal a bite of her food; when some inanimate objects gets her way; or when she's imagining things with her "a'mls" (her stuffed animal friends).

Her other favorite thing to say? "No - it's my dada!" Have I mentioned we have a complete daddy's girl? This is her go-to phrase when someone is too close to Aaron. The latest, completely awesome, story about this was over the weekend. There was some extended family in town, nine-year-old Henry and 11-year-old Lucy, both sweet as can be. Henry was teaching Aaron some form of martial arts. He was twisting his arm, etc. and Layna is sitting on my lap watching and murmuring "it's my dada" with a bottom lip stuck out, though she was otherwise tolerating their play. Until....

Aaron was on the ground, hands behind his back with his cousin leaning over him and Layna bolts from my lap with her "NO, IT'S MY DADA" warcry and jumps on his back to his rescue. She had a dress on, too. Without a doubt, it was one of my favorite moments: my two-year-old daughter, coming to her dad's rescue against a nine-year-old boy. I think we're doing a pretty good job of raising a tenacious, fearless daughter.