Mr Fantastic

Owen's speech has developed enough that he can stroll in the realm between the surreal and the certifiable. For instance, this evening, holding a six-foot length of rope and looking at the sky, he announced, "Use rope to get that moon down. Need ladder."

Two observations as I blogged this:
1) Recognizing that he'd need a ladder if he was going to use his rope to pull down the moon isn't really surreal or certifiable, but actually sensible.
2) Owen's speech bears an uncanny resemblance to old text adventure games on the computer.

> Get moon down
Get moon down using what?
> Use rope to get moon down
The moon is too high for you to get.
> Need ladder
The shop on Archer Street sells ladders.

Fire Marshal Owen

Owen is borderline obsessed with smoke alarms. From time to time around the house, he will announce, "Smoke alarm beepin'." (It isn't.) For a while, he would stare at the smoke alarm in his room, but he seems to have gotten over that, which is good for his sleeping. His newest thing is to point out smoke alarms in his books, sort of. He has two different books in which he will definitively point at a blank section of wall in a picture and declare, "Smoke alarm." I can only conclude that he is pointing out where the smoke alarm ought to be. He's deliberate about it; not just any blank wall will do. He'll say, "Wanna talk about smoke alarm," then flip through the book until he finds the right picture of blank wall.

I guess I'm glad he's into smoke alarms as opposed to, say, fire. And the whole thing is cuted a bit by his reluctance to pronounce initial "s" sounds. So he really says, "Wanna talk about moke alarm."

1 + 1 > 2

I have all these great ideas for blog entries, which I then promptly forget to post.

1 toddler + 1 baby > 2 kids, or so it seem, particularly in the morning and at dinner time.

The unpredictability of the morning makes it hard to get out of the house on time. Captain Entropy (Owen) may wake up at 7, or may wake up at 5, which requires a different level of entertainment and supervision. Katherine may wake up at 5 with Owen, demanding to be fed, and then be unable to sleep when Owen is banging around and talking really loudly. Or, maybe she'll go back to sleep. Add in pumping, packing all my gear, and I leave the house with no less than 2 bags + backpack (computer, pump, work papers (1-5 inches thick depending on the day), pump gear, soap and insulated bag for milk storage, lunch, white coat, possibly umbrella and real coat). I need my own personal sherpa to get to work. Fortunately, the return to work has been relatively low key, so I've gotten to try a few methods for getting out of the house on time.

Incentive to shave

Katherine's preferred way to be held, by me at least, is over the shoulder. She sees where I've been and burps, and I get the wonderful feeling of her little head bouncing against my cheek. But if I haven't shaved, my stubble leaves a red, irritated circle on her forehead. It doesn't seem to bother her, but she's too young to be needing to exfoliate.

Lullaby

For at least a month - and really I think it's been at least two - Owen has wanted to hear "Yankee Doodle Dandy" sung to him at bedtime. Did you know that there are five verses to "Yankee Doodle Dandy"? There are when I sing it. (And he's quite particular that I be crouching, not standing, beside his bed when I do so.)

At some point during Yankee Doodle Days, he decided that he wants to hear "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", too. I think he picked up that one from Kerry, who perhaps thought that a militaristic, womanizing march was not a suitable lullaby. (She should hear the songs I used to sing to him.) Only three verses to "Twinkle Twinkle".

Smiles

Smiles from tiny babies (eg, your almost three-month-old daughter) are fantastic. I'd remembered that they were an important counterweight to infant screaming, but I'd forgotten how truly awesome they are.