Snippets

Lately Peter has started calling Brooklyn "Little Guy," and will encourage her to follow him around the house on all fours saying (in a high-pitched, sweet little voice), "Come here, Little Guy. I'm here, Little Guy. Come on, Little Guy!"

Brooklyn woke up one day and decided she was going to start pulling up on everything around her. Zero interest the day before, and then all of a sudden she's up. Her favorite things to scale are her brother's bed and her mom... especially when I'm a moving target. I have to be careful because she will follow me around the house and try to climb me whether I'm stationary or not (hair is often used as a stability object if I'm on the floor. Ouch).

Peter said "Yikes!" this morning when his train track broke. Who says, "Yikes?!"

Peter wrestled Brooke a little too hard, so I told him for the trillionth time that he is Brooklyn's big brother, and that she is very little (truth: she is only six inches shorter and 8 pounds lighter that Peter). "You need to take care of her," I said. It clicked for about a minute. "I want to hold her!" he said. So I put Brooklyn on his lap, he wrapped his arms around her and said, "I hold you, Bookie. I'm here. Let's watch a show together." It was adorable. 

Brooklyn dances. Yes. Dances. When she presses a button on her little play zoo that starts thirty seconds of music, she rocks back and forth on her knees like she's dancing! It's my favorite rare bird. I've never been able to catch it on camera before she stops. With a brother like Peter, there's no secret as to where she got her dance moves.

I was putting Peter down the other night, and I laid on his bed with him to sing him some songs. He's in a little toddler bed, so I don't like to lay on it (possible breakage AND I feel like giant Alice when she's in the house with tiny furniture). But he did the cutest things. He wrapped his skinny arms all the way around my neck and started patting my back with one of them the way I do sometimes when he's sad or has an ouchie. So I hugged him back and started patting his back at the same time. We both burst into laughter as we patted each other's back and had a good, long hug. Now we do it every night. It's the perfect end to the day. That boy could not get any sweeter.

Brooklyn is the happiest, most social little butterfly. She lifts my heart faster than anything can with her wide-mouthed, whole-face smile. She loves to FaceTime with her cousin Emmy and play patty-cake, she yells "Papa! Papa!" whenever she hears my dad's voice on the phone or ipad, and she is obsessed with her "Da da." Obsessed. She absolutely adores her Dad. 

I do too, for the record.  

Peter is very interested lately in similarities and differences. He is always patting Brooklyn's hair and saying, 'Mama, Bookie's hair is cou-wee (curly). My hair is straight." He likes to point out that Brooklyn and Mama both have brown hair, while he and his daddy both have blonde hair. I appreciate having little chats with him about how we are all different from each other in lots of ways, but that we are also the same in lots of ways and that we are a family who loves each other. 

Brooklyn sleeps 13 hours at night. And naps twice in the day. And eats everything I feed her. And is perfect. Meal time is actually quite the challenge with Brooky. She wants whatever we're eating and yells, "Na na na na na na (her word for food)" until we dish her plate. She sees food and decides she's s t a r v i n g. Then she opens her mouth willingly, waitingly. The spoon comes toward her mouth and then WHAP! The bear paw of her left arm comes swatting the spoon across the kitchen. She doesn't even mean to do it. So we usually end up feeding her while holding the left arm down. It's tough to do when Peter wants to sit on your lap during meal time (every time). He says, "I need you, Mama. I have you?" Um. Yes.

Peter is (deep breath) potty-trained (GIANT question mark?). 

By that, I mean that we're not going back to diapers. There's no turning back. He knows they are for babies and that he is a big boy. He still calls it "homeboy." I love it. He'll go in the potty willingly, but usually when I remind him. We are working on him going on his own, but we have been accident free a number of days over the last week and a half when we started. He actually has done SO much better than I thought he'd do. We've had a handful of accidents, but he's seriously been so great.

Brooklyn hates shopping. Of any kind (I'm secretly proud).