And then. . .

We came home and Clara pooped in the bath tub.  This is a first for us.  One hopes it is also a last, but we have no expectation in this regard.  She knew it had happened, and seemed to suspect that this was the wrong bathroom vessel for this activity, but was otherwise nonplussed.  Julie just wanted to get the bambini and their vast collection of bath toys out of the tub before a bigger mess was created (which she did).

At least the bathroom doesn't have to be cleaned now this weekend.

U Can't Touch This Chipotle

Ted was in Cleveland for the day yesterday, but it was an otherwise beautiful day.  So Julie hatched a plan to take the bambini to Chipotle for dinner, then take them home for an early bath, and, after they were in their pajamas, take them on a Pajama Bike Ride before bed.  But clouds rolled in about 3:30pm and by the time Julie and the bambini were in Chipotle, the rain was really coming down.  So we save the Pajama Bike Ride for another day.

Chipotle was hopping.  There was a table of three high school girls near us who were a source of endless fascination for Joe, as were the umbrellas on the tables on the patio.  There is nothing quite like questions from a toddler or preschooler to keep you on your toes.  Joe wanted to know why the umbrellas over the tables were being collapsed.  Julie had to explain (repeatedly) that umbrellas over tables were usually for blocking sun, not rain, and that most people do not like to eat in the rain.  Clara, meanwhile, had climbed right up into a Big Girl Seat at the booth--no high chair!

We always like to dance in our seats to the music.  Last night, we heard a remixed version of the MC Hammer classic U Can't Touch This.  You can't hear the music very well, but here you can see the bambini dancing to it.  And then they just stop.  But all they need are some Hammer pants, and they are ready to take the dance world by storm.

Baby Bird, Baby Bird, What Do You See?

In other news, Clara's daily doings report from the day before yesterday said that the class had played a sorting colors game, and that Clara is good at it.  No doubt.  She does not often like to read the same book two nights in a row, but the past few nights, she's gone for Brown Bear.  The last page has all the animals on it that the children at book's end, and the child reading the book, of course, have seen, and what Clara likes to do is put her hand over Julie's and direct Julie's hand along as it points at all the animals.  But other night, after the Birds had done that, Julie closed the book and said to Clara, "Can you find me. . .the red bird?!" before popping the book back open!  Clara laughed and did a quick point and said, "Right dere!"  Brigade, she got every single animal right: the brown bear, the red bird, the yellow duck, the blue horse, the green frog, the purple cat, the white dog, the black sheep, and the goldfish!  She did it again tonight!

(We should acknowledge that despite these feats, Birdie has been known to mix up red and green in exactly the same way Joe used to!  Green is always green, but sometimes red is labelled green.  It's very curious.  But it is very fun to hear Birdie wrap her mouth around green, and she says it with such gusto: GREEN!)

Scat the Hat

That's enough being maudlin!  Right?!  Right.  The Cat in the Hat Comes Back has been at the top of the Raleigh House bestseller list for some time now.  Its cover features the Cat in not only his hat, but some skis, and initially, in its run, Joe referred to it as "the one with the cat on skis," or something like that, to distinguish it from The Cat in the Hat.  Who knew he knew what skis were?!  Until we remembered that skis were features on the winter page in the Richard Scarry's Best Word Book Ever in which we used to play 10 Things.  So The Cat in the Hat Comes Back is all the rage.  So, too, is a song on the McPhail Center for Music's second children music's CD called Scat the Cat.*  Joe is besotted with Scat the Cat.  He requests it so often that even Clara, who is arguably most likely to be as besotted with it out of the other three people besides Joe in the car, is over Scat.  The moment she hears Scat she says, "Nooooo.  Not Scat, not Scat."  Whimpers usually follow as Scat begins because of course, Joe asks very politely to hear it, and the mixmaster job floats.

We have been meaning to report that worlds collided the other morning when Joe asked to listen to Scat the Hat.  Fans, it was the best.  He instantly realized his mistake and started laughing and we did, too.  It was like real humor!

*A sampling: "I'm Scat the Cat, I'm round and fat, and I can change my colors, just like that!"  It only gets better from there, Fans.

You're Gonna Miss This

Birdie Brigade, settle in for one of those ruminating and reflective posts Julie likes to do now and again.  Julie has been racing, racing, racing the past few weeks, and so she feels like there's barely been time to stop and think and feel all that's been happening, like Birdie turning two.  It is both exciting and bittersweet to see her grow up.  It was--and is--the same swirl of emotions watching Joe grow up, but when Joe was the age Clara is now, the possibility of another little nugget had just been realized with her arrival.  There is no such possibility about to materialize now which makes one a little more wistful about these days.

There is this, Julie thinks, as consolation: Clara is sweet, and earthy, by nature.  She likes to cuddle, and be cuddled, and is very direct and uncomplicated about it all.  Birdie sometimes takes Julie's hand and  clasps it to her--Birdie's--tummy, just so, or cups Julie's hand to her cheek, or around her knee.  Julie feels like Birdie could never get enough of being cradled and held.

So there all that, which stands side by side with things like a child, tucked in a half hour or more, who suddenly begin wailing because he has "no animals" in his bed, despite the obvious presence of two, which means you must go track down some others because they have escaped from the basket across the room, and upon your return with them, the other child begins wailing because if her brother is going have more animals, then by gosh, she is, too, despite the presence of the following in her crib (working clockwise round the perimeter): Cat, Gorilla, Giraffe, Pink Bear, Baby Doll 1, Baby Doll 2, Baby Doll 3, Pink Dog,  My Purple Pillow Pet, and Dog.  That's 10--10, in case you lost count, Fans.  (In addition to a cuddler, Our Clara Jane is also a bit of a hoarder.)

Anyway.  Today, in the car on the way home, Julie happened to hear the Trace Adkins song You're Gonna Miss This, and Brigade, as the country music fans among you know, there is nothing like a country song to set you to blubbering about time rushing on, even as you plod along in rush hour.

You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these times hadn't gone by so fast


These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're gonna miss this

Word, Trace, word.