tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75352871850412263922024-03-05T02:14:02.797-05:00The Adorable Donovansbeckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-10823948059543500012009-11-26T23:45:00.005-05:002009-11-27T08:58:10.988-05:00The Next Chapter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIVNwbOv-VpHV3KVorzAmX23FYSW1JnK6TKYJF99-tERqc3cTSyiLackGomRIfEbk1aT6eFI_EJE9PHa2dsEoydAO_519uBFcRQ7S6cJJjrj308Qqm5yxPcYMkujatl3fT3OfribIo1M/s1600/00360021.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20MrF8T2w_k2LNhOxd7_zsqVgr2ez9H_pTPG8XNY82G3Ak_DNgsww9uAwvubmlZcnTzUHPEJp2lOuwChLS-hxAkK-sOl5IiWiTEpEpvSBapQolvw-4eg4ruTRqRUcC5IcpTiMNjxbImY/s1600/00360021.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 214px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408780434417311650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20MrF8T2w_k2LNhOxd7_zsqVgr2ez9H_pTPG8XNY82G3Ak_DNgsww9uAwvubmlZcnTzUHPEJp2lOuwChLS-hxAkK-sOl5IiWiTEpEpvSBapQolvw-4eg4ruTRqRUcC5IcpTiMNjxbImY/s320/00360021.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>We move into the new house this weekend. Taking a break packing earlier, I got to thinking about Jude and wondering how much of this old house he will remember. Sophie won't remember anything I'm sure and Luke obviously won't know anything but what he sees in pictures. But Jude? He'll remember things that happened here. Maybe last Christmas, or singing happy birthday. He might remember his car bed and the sandbox out back.</div><br /><div>I was just about a year older than Jude when we moved out to Whitby. I don't have many memories of the old house. I can remember what it looked like from the outside. Vaguely. I remember it had blue carpet and my dad flooded the backyard one winter to make an ice rink. I can picture my mum sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea. </div><div> </div><div>I remember moving day a bit more clearly. I can hear the sound of my footsteps running up the ramp into the moving truck. I can see it parked in the carport at the new place. I don't remember packing up the old house - which must have been stressful, I know I'm feeling the pressure right now. </div><br /><div>I was thinking about a memory I had of my parent's basement. From before my dad finished it and only now, when I put myself in Jude's shoes to try and imagine what part of this whole experience is going to resonate with him in his long term memory, do I realize that what I am remembering must be from before my parents bought the place. I've always had a picture in my head when I think back to the early years there of cinder block shelves filled with books I hadn't read. </div><div> </div><div>So what will Jude remember? Will he remember playing in the backyard while Justin walked around with the Home Inspector? Will he remember that there was a piano in the living room and wonder where it went? </div><div></div><br /><div>It's been a while since I posted anything. I guess a few things have changed around here...</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div></div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-68451611001312939752008-02-28T09:09:00.000-05:002008-02-28T09:10:42.103-05:00SophieLast March, Justin and I stood in the pediatrician’s office with Sophie. She was a mere 6 or 7 days old. I remember so clearly Justin expressing concern over the fact that Sophie cried all the time. She didn’t really cry all the time, but when she did cry it was so intense, so full of fury that hearing 30 seconds of this ear piercing stomach clenching screaming was akin to about 10 minutes of your typical newborn cries.<br />Our pediatrician smiled in her laid back way, shrugged her shoulders and said (as much to us as to the writhing, kicking, purple ball of rage that was Sophie, naked on the weight scale) that she was just “feisty”.<br />Justin and I smiled at each other. We liked that, feisty. A year later Sophie has proved herself to be just that. Feisty. Or to borrow a term from Tyra Banks: she’s fierce.<br />Sophie is not afraid to stand up to Jude. We went through a phase where Jude wouldn’t let Sophie play with any of his toys. He’s still not much for sharing, but Miss Sophie girl can more than take care of herself.<br />(As I type this, they are bickering over Mr. Potato Head. Sophie as usual, is wining).<br />In a rare move last night, I made us a dessert to eat for after dinner. I made cherry Jell-O with grapes inside. Justin fed Sophie her Jell-O and he literally could not scoop the Jell-O in to her mouth fast enough. He would give her a spoonful, and then try to take one from his own dish. Before he could get his spoon to his mouth, Sophie was hollering at him. She’s not talking yet, but does she ever know what she’s saying. And we’d better figure it out fast, if we know what’s good for us.<br />Sophie has moments when absolutely nothing or no one will substitute for mummy. Sometimes I am just not able to take her at these times and Justin will have to do until I finish whatever it is I am doing. During these times, Sophie will scream and scream and then when I become available she will get over to me as fast as she can and more often than not she will stop to turn around and yell at her father a few times. The tears are gone, the sobbing has stopped but this girl is still angry. And she is not afraid to let it be known.<br />Now, I don’t want to paint a negative picture of Sophie.<br />She is the sweetest, most cuddly baby you’ll ever meet. She smiles at anyone who smiles at her. She flirts with people in restaurants; she will rest her head on your shoulder if you pick her up. She will wave hello when she hears the front door open regardless of where she is in the house. She will share her last bite of cookie with you and give you a wet kiss on the nose, cheek and chin.<br />She plays peek-a-boo with strangers and laughs at all her brother’s knock knock jokes. She is so proud of herself when she accomplishes things and when she is allowed to do things she sees her brother doing. She gets up and dances at the first sound of music – whether it’s on the radio, TV or if she’s hearing one of us singing. She will blow on any exposed bit of belly she sees.<br />She is my pretty baby girl, the prettiest baby in the world and it breaks my heart that I have to leave her (and her brother) in a week and a half to go back to work. I know I should just be thankful I got to spend this year with her, to get to know her and watch her develop into this distinctive little personality that she is but I can’t help being selfish. I don’t want to leave either of them.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-27878203491558679462008-02-24T11:03:00.003-05:002008-02-24T11:17:54.506-05:00My Sophie Girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9J5WWKzVklmmEctUlJ5i_wlQRUCB23te2VGp0a4e5WGmJhP96TeJZhFRW3sRuAC_IgHPRah3gAocWnhY6myYP-Rjzn9WIJw3JaxTmDdwqXHQ7oPJ2Tue2Z9plc7kskEQ3dss_hEUhgs/s1600-h/101_0045.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div>She's walking! Sophie started walking last week. She's taking it slow, she doesn't walk every day, but she loves to stand and absolutely loves to sway back and forth to music.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We've been hit by the Wiggles bug in our house so we do a lot of singing and dancing. Jude loves to rock out, but Sophie girl, she loves to dance.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncMPIeAnD3Q0QZjaWtJdJp085zyi-how-vwrb_93tha4Sz7afW7wADn8wNJQiKeAoEQe0kBLJ5S1fUAhN16YWF1aHTumtTZ9-QjBQBv_uM1w7Lw0nuBQl580HkUlXowu7NMWy44mE8iA/s1600-h/101_0047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170580595244663922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncMPIeAnD3Q0QZjaWtJdJp085zyi-how-vwrb_93tha4Sz7afW7wADn8wNJQiKeAoEQe0kBLJ5S1fUAhN16YWF1aHTumtTZ9-QjBQBv_uM1w7Lw0nuBQl580HkUlXowu7NMWy44mE8iA/s200/101_0047.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Here she is dancing (note Jude: rocking out)</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcax7V073lHYCduDDWfyGtZjHWtzV-aiicIWFajpeIq6z5Fq4Jzj7PFN6DxePtMeDFYdRC5v3o0Ovqh00p01sFhU0f2Ug3gRM9DXO7jKepjX0P_3EDhackPdi1qkzNgiteAfjZ9oo_M4/s1600-h/101_0044.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170580582359762002" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcax7V073lHYCduDDWfyGtZjHWtzV-aiicIWFajpeIq6z5Fq4Jzj7PFN6DxePtMeDFYdRC5v3o0Ovqh00p01sFhU0f2Ug3gRM9DXO7jKepjX0P_3EDhackPdi1qkzNgiteAfjZ9oo_M4/s200/101_0044.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Sophie playing the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tambourine</span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcldLtPvF7B8VJ3h5QIDWI9JoeCWI9gNnYzOApSPKuf4ktOgYEmVJKAaaE7aruYnK2UEpccxH0P4SOigoDtNE-I1RGJMV4tZ6K7S3u2VDU4bszCj-5ToYMbRSmMqMXwojJULZuqqacwso/s1600-h/101_0043.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170580569474860098" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcldLtPvF7B8VJ3h5QIDWI9JoeCWI9gNnYzOApSPKuf4ktOgYEmVJKAaaE7aruYnK2UEpccxH0P4SOigoDtNE-I1RGJMV4tZ6K7S3u2VDU4bszCj-5ToYMbRSmMqMXwojJULZuqqacwso/s200/101_0043.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>It's hard to tell in pictures, but she's actually walking in this sequence</div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-33534224540077411092008-02-24T11:00:00.002-05:002008-02-24T11:03:32.292-05:00Actual Conversation at BreakfastMe: Jude! Breakfast!<br />Jude: (scampering in from living room) Oh! Mummy! (sits on stool) Did you make this yourself?<br />Me: Yes I did.<br />Jude: (takes a taste) I can't believe it!beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-90261169623774694252008-02-10T10:15:00.000-05:002008-02-10T10:27:59.888-05:00a wee bit moreAnd just a quick update:<br /><br />Sophie girl is months old today. She is still not walking, but man! Can she ever crawl like the wind. She's fast. Especially if she's got one of Jude's toys and she's trying to get away from him.<br /><br />She is crawling up and down the stairs with ease, she knows to back off the couch and my bed. She's getting there. I think it's in her nature to hold off on doing something until she knows how to do it right. She was slow to roll over, but when she did there were no quarter turns for her. She went from motionless to 360 rolling in a day. Same with crawling. She didn't do the commando style pull herself along or push backwards, she just crawled. (There may have been a bit of bum crawling, but not for more than a few days).<br /><br />Honestly, I think she can walk. She just doesn't want to do the precarious tottering. When she lets go, she'll be gone.<br /><br />She can also hold her own against her big brother. The other night Justin and watched the two of them struggling over something. We didn't know what they were fighting over, but we were curious to see how it would end. Suddenly, Jude went down and Sophie made a grab for something. When she came up she crawled away and sat up a little ways from Jude. In her hand was a box of raisins.<br /><br />Unfortunately the box was closed so before she could eat her spoils, Jude composed himself and came over and snatched them. We gave her her own box after that.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-51150319089487751332008-02-10T10:03:00.000-05:002008-02-10T10:14:19.526-05:00wow! More than a monthSince my last post.<br /><br />This one will be light. Justin is at school all weekend so I am going into my 7th day in a row with the kids by myself.<br /><br />As usual last night I was taking requests for the bedtime nursery rhyme singalong. Jude requested one of his favourites, Mary Had a Little Lamb. So I start singing and Jude yells out,<br /><br />"No! Steve!"<br /><br />Um, what? I rack my brain trying to come up with a song that has the name Steve in it. Of course I draw a blank.<br /><br />"Are you saying 'Steve'?" I have to ask for clarification.<br /><br />"Yeah, Steve," Jude confirms.<br /><br />Uhhhh. "Sing it?"<br /><br />Jude starts mumbling something to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb.<br /><br />"You want me to sing, 'Steve Had a Little Lamb'?"<br /><br />"Yeah!" Jude nods enthusiastically.<br /><br />And that is how I came to sing, "Steve Had a Little Lamb" as a bedtime song to Jude last night.<br /><br />For the record, we have no idea why of all the names he could have chosen he decided to go with Steve.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-43779665546507407082008-01-03T14:53:00.000-05:002008-01-03T15:07:13.414-05:00The other night Jude and Justin were lying around chatting. Then things got ugly. Justin had the nerve to suggest that Jude was a "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nose picker</span>" - he may have sung a song about it. Jude was understandably offended and lashed out at Justin in response to the allegations.<br />"YOU'RE a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nose picker</span> too," my young two year old son said.<br />And I couldn't have been more delighted. I felt like maybe just maybe, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">grammar</span> battle I fight every day with Justin isn't in vain.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-37883276192416250772007-12-24T10:16:00.001-05:002007-12-24T10:39:07.268-05:00Procrastionation - or Why You Should Never Speak In Front of a ToddlerLet me first address the beginning of this post's title: Procrastination. We are hosting two Christmas dinners back to back starting tonight. And Justin currently has the kids at work with him. Which means I should really be doing prep work in the kitchen or cleaning the living room or even something more self centered but nonetheless on my to-do list, such as straightening my hair.<br />I'm on the Internet.<br />Now to the second portion of the title. Jude has taken on the personality of a teenager. He's two. It started in the mornings. I would go in to wake the little guy up and Jude would roll around pulling the covers over his head, moaning, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nooooo</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sleeeeeeping</span>." And then I would finally drag him out of bed and he would sulk around like a 15 year old who didn't study for a test that day.<br /><br />But let me share little snippets of conversations actually taking place in the Donovan household on a now daily basis.<br />"Jude, it's time for bed." (For example, said by either myself or Justin).<br />"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Sooooo</span>?"<br />"So come put your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">jammies</span> on."<br />"Nah," very dismissive, with a shrug of his little two year old shoulders.<br />"Um. Yeah. Come here, now. It's bed time." The parent starts to sound a little stern. A little exasperated, a little shocked to hear the previously sweet little boy being so disobedient.<br />"You're ridiculous!" Jude will yell, at which point Justin and I will turn to each other.<br />"Did he just call me 'ridiculous'?"<br />"Yes."<br /><br />This little conversation might play out two or three times in a day. Always ending the same way - with Justin and I unable to stop smirking at the cheeky little monkey and probably a pretty good tickle session where we repeat over and over "Don't tell me I'm ridiculous, YOU'RE ridiculous. YOU'RE ridiculous!" while Jude screams with laughter.<br /><br />I mean really, ridiculous? Where does he get this stuff from? It's ridiculous.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-8142369360675989272007-12-11T14:43:00.000-05:002007-12-11T14:56:24.104-05:00The Doctor is inJude started playing an adorable game of alter egos. He started pretending he was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_Bedhead">Major Bedhead</a> one day and he's been a bunch of different names ever since. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Some days</span> he's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_and_Ruby-_Season_3">Roger</a>, other days he's Donald, our next door neighbour. Last Friday he up and decided that his new name is Doctor.<br />We know he's the Doctor when he walks around with a pencil in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. If you should dare call him "Jude" he will get a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">little</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">belligerent</span>, "No!" he'll yell, "Name Doctor! Name Doctor!" as he jabs his thumb into his little chest.<br />Sophie is sick today, she was awake at 5am, throwing up all over the place and she hasn't stopped since. I had her resting in the infant seat while I ran up to replace her "back-up" outfit for the third time that morning and when I came down, Doctor was leaning over her, pencil poised above his papers saying, "Matter, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bophie</span> girl? Matter?" and then he gave her a little kiss.<br />What a sweet little doctor he is.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-47106923965096426912007-11-30T11:04:00.000-05:002007-11-30T11:15:46.901-05:00Quick updateMuch too late I will inform you that Sophie is crawling. She is also cruising. At this stage, it's probably not that surprising, but she started this about a month ago (I believe it was the weekend of my mum's birthday). Also, she just started waving. And not the open hand close hand wave that most babies seem to do. Her wave is more adult like. And very friendly. Her wave makes you imagine she is very excited to see you! or perhaps she is very sorry to see you go! but she loves you so much that she is going to wave her little heart out!<br />She has 5 teeth and we are waiting the 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> to come in, to even things out a bit on the bottom. She is pulling herself up and cruising along the couch and from the small piano to the small rocking chair (that wasn't pretty, she had a black eye for a few days). She LOVES the song, "The Grand Old Duke of York" which is handy in situations where, say, she is crying uncontrollably in the car. However, then you have to sing "The Grand Old Duke of York" <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">repeatedly</span> for miles on end which can be a bit well, repetitive.<br />She is also the most beautiful baby in the world.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-2825806762113163622007-11-21T15:41:00.000-05:002007-11-21T15:47:55.987-05:00pictures from halloween<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9HHqJ9_W_lI6YcbXPnR5928EYtUC5qNFrmrcSqFPZhYp0Ms6P-fgX1h0csOEeiK-YskydzLa7NXGM6v9-lrHixuaemWRgBGAPE_o5QxJsdWA8v7setLctrucLHsfrQ-63S8DHvI8hihg/s1600-h/PICT0005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135398095898644802" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9HHqJ9_W_lI6YcbXPnR5928EYtUC5qNFrmrcSqFPZhYp0Ms6P-fgX1h0csOEeiK-YskydzLa7NXGM6v9-lrHixuaemWRgBGAPE_o5QxJsdWA8v7setLctrucLHsfrQ-63S8DHvI8hihg/s200/PICT0005.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnFbJGdJ2qbjujN6-4pbhc0j78vvGtKTdWJrolBIWUBpTzvwmhZf_b1Rgr6uG9OkyyvtzEtJo3Mkf1u94X6dWlNddcfadja9rPUzqGymBRuQdWc1uzlfsgtzmarSEF9NPCQ_-3XebmIo/s1600-h/PICT0013.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135398108783546706" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfnFbJGdJ2qbjujN6-4pbhc0j78vvGtKTdWJrolBIWUBpTzvwmhZf_b1Rgr6uG9OkyyvtzEtJo3Mkf1u94X6dWlNddcfadja9rPUzqGymBRuQdWc1uzlfsgtzmarSEF9NPCQ_-3XebmIo/s200/PICT0013.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHt1ecxXuZM4TD5KdbjR5bKygzV7CalMN9LqVanQVd83z3790twOmRNjdcyo345J9rwmPCeqN8Kga_HsmO36G015JKnux09zXXej0ZXK5weRwEQKmDRg2kiqIZOELNd-p-kdK8S3FiU_Y/s1600-h/PICT0016.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135398117373481314" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHt1ecxXuZM4TD5KdbjR5bKygzV7CalMN9LqVanQVd83z3790twOmRNjdcyo345J9rwmPCeqN8Kga_HsmO36G015JKnux09zXXej0ZXK5weRwEQKmDRg2kiqIZOELNd-p-kdK8S3FiU_Y/s200/PICT0016.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-40763547107861526092007-11-06T15:54:00.000-05:002007-11-06T16:29:47.789-05:00A late post on Hallowe'enSo we (by "we" I guess I mean "I") went the cutesy route for Hallowe'en costumes this year. Jude was a chicken, Sophie a baby chick.<br />(This post just got a whole lot shorter, I'm typing one handed now)<br />Justin took the kids out trick or treatin' while I stayed home and handed out candy. Jude apparently caught on very quickly what was expected of him. Sophie was so cute people gave her candy too - all the more for Daddy- I mean Jude.<br />I think we're over the candy thing finally... in that he's given up the begging for "one piece? one piece?"<br />Typically, Jude seemed to have as much if not more fun giving out candy when he got home.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-88111974884959186642007-10-20T10:16:00.000-05:002007-10-20T10:34:42.387-05:00The other night I took Jude to Toys R Us to buy his birthday present. He's still young enough to buy presents in front of. I assume this will get harder as the months pass. We were driving home and Jude suddenly ran out of the candy that he got as a treat from the candy machine in front of the store - the very machines designed to ensure that children throw temper tantrums both going in to and coming out of the store.<br />Cue temper tantrum.<br />Unfortunately we were driving so there wasn't much I could do (Daddy and Sophie were at home). The only thing I could think of to end the needless misery happening in the backseat was distraction:<br />"Hey Jude!" I yelled over his hysterics. "What sound does a cat make?"<br />"Meow," came the sniffled reply.<br />"And what sound does a doggy make?"<br />"Meow," he said again with a little more enthusiasm.<br />"A doggy doesn't say 'meow'," I said to him, in a kindergarten teacher type voice. "What does a doggy say?"<br />"Woof! Woof!" He yells back.<br />"Right!" And so on we went for a while, I'd name an animal, he'd yell out what sound the animal makes and then we'd make that sound a few times until I moved on to the next one.<br />At this point we were stopped at a red light. I happened to look over and noticed the guy beside me was really belting out a song.<br />"What sound does a ... (grasp for animal that we hadn't covered yet) ... monkey make?" I unrolled my window a little bit out of curiosity to see if I could make out what song he was listening to - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nickelback</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Rockstar</span>.<br />Jude mumbled something that sounded distinctly like a falsetto "Hi-I'm-a-monkey" in response to my earlier question. I looked at Jude in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rear view</span> mirror, he was smiling devilishly. I looked over at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Nickelback</span> guy one more time and thought to myself, man that's an embarrassing song to get caught singing so passionately to - doesn't he realise people can <em>see</em> him? Then I turned back to Jude.<br />"No, silly! A monkey says, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Oooo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">oooo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">oooo</span>" I called over the back seat to him as I lifted my arm and scratched my arm pit. "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ooooo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">oooo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ooo</span>!"beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-88232535706730387622007-10-19T12:46:00.001-05:002007-10-19T12:53:45.130-05:00Minding his Ps and QsSo I've mentioned that Jude is very polite. He always says "thank you" he mostly says "please" (although sometimes it's in a whiny bratty kind of way, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Peeeeeeassssssssseeeeeeeeee</span>") and recently he started to say "excuse me" when trying to get by other people or <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">inanimate</span> objects (it winds up sounding more like "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">soosfee</span>" or something similar, but when you move and he gets by you, he always turns around and says "thank you").<br />Lately though, he's been taking it a bit far. Like the past few days, when he climbs up or down the stairs he's always careful to stop at the end and say, "Tank You! Tank You Stairs!"<br />Thank you stairs? Thanks for allowing me to move from one level of the house to the next with ease? Thanks for not making me trip and fall down? What a character.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-33690637107400454882007-10-16T07:27:00.000-05:002007-10-16T07:45:06.848-05:00It's Sophie's Turn!Finally, something about Sophie!<br /><br />Sophie has been able to sit up unassisted for quite sometime now, as long as you put her down in a sitting position. Of course, inevitably she would reach out for something or someone and manage to work herself onto her stomach. She would roll around down there happily for a while until she realized that she couldn't get back up. Then the tears would come.<br />Over the weekend it occurred to me that even though she still sometimes cried on the floor, it was more because she noticed that everyone was in the kitchen and she was still in the living room. Or perhaps it was because her big brother yanked a toy away from her.<br />But yesterday while I was typing the goose post I sat her down in front of the mirror. And then I looked over at her and she was lying on her stomach trying to get a hold of the vacuum cleaner nozzle. And then I looked again and she was sitting up? What?<br />So I watched her like a hawk all day. And finally right before bed, she did it. She sat up all by herself! I am trying to remember how Jude did it, but I can't quite picture it. I think he went from his stomach and sort of rolled over into a sitting position. Sophie gets up on all fours rocks back and forth a bit and then just sits on her bum. Congratulations Sophie! October 15th is your official sitting up day!beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-12942740078756179822007-10-15T07:43:00.000-05:002007-10-15T08:06:37.541-05:00Once bit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xjmK-54c0sCSxB8J628iubbw_4uu7a3vNPPs0GNkfRqmFusza_lgAach0SczvYgJZM4cshZlKr6no9OuGb90C1OH2xgEJesaiGz5KFyh0NjJIgG5AJ4AyFwFTmUawEwY0NnjeS-vsmw/s1600-h/DSC00043.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XaBZHNLT9F74W9Ybh7s6qRTDxtXwH17eQNWnur3wsJJZPT7Gm-GPfscq8_SO8JxIMrZMk_8BeRFag3l4pfyDjovlLKsI5XO-NIX5sY58OkXqdB600hTc0Wg-ZGYC3EPYaHhxxy6W9fc/s1600-h/DSC00042.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121548163966773442" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XaBZHNLT9F74W9Ybh7s6qRTDxtXwH17eQNWnur3wsJJZPT7Gm-GPfscq8_SO8JxIMrZMk_8BeRFag3l4pfyDjovlLKsI5XO-NIX5sY58OkXqdB600hTc0Wg-ZGYC3EPYaHhxxy6W9fc/s200/DSC00042.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>We like to go feed the ducks. Jude gets a kick out of it, and it's a nice family outing, an hour or two down by the lake. Unfortunately with the ducks also come the geese. And Canadian Geese are mean. Nevertheless we try to aim the bread over the geese and into the waiting beaks of the ducks. When we first started doing this, Jude would throw entire pieces of bread into the water. It didn't take him long to figure out that you were supposed to dole out smaller <em>bite sized</em> pieces. </div><br /><div>Now neither of us actually saw it happen, but if I know Jude (and I'm pretty sure I do) he was handing out small little pieces, no bigger than a crumb. Anyway it was pretty cute, watching him stand there throwing the bread over to the ducks and so I was fiddling with my brand new camera phone so I could get a picture and holding Sophie at the same time. Justin was just behind Jude, but wasn't exactly looking at him. </div><br /><div>And then we heard a shriek. And I pushed Sophie into Justin's arms and rushed over to see Jude. There was a possibly guilty looking goose right in front of where Jude had been standing. I picked him up and he held out his finger to me.</div><br /><div>"Mummy! Goose! Bite! Finger!" Jude cried. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7ym0NEFbtvSrZrcegleuZPh9RHVOrLI2OBvH_oSHkl-NZdUfgYARr-PqVEygD8D1Us8vMkLxACzyMMNmYFMFFx4ESQ_mJqTpYyjNeHRx6-SzOHlmgVDBPN_L9-iBNVfZS7zEJA2IIRU/s1600-h/DSC00041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121548155376838834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7ym0NEFbtvSrZrcegleuZPh9RHVOrLI2OBvH_oSHkl-NZdUfgYARr-PqVEygD8D1Us8vMkLxACzyMMNmYFMFFx4ESQ_mJqTpYyjNeHRx6-SzOHlmgVDBPN_L9-iBNVfZS7zEJA2IIRU/s200/DSC00041.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I hugged him and kissed it better and said, "Bad Goose!" in my stern-ist Mother Voice and at some point Justin and I traded kids back. After all there wasn't any broken skin, I couldn't even tell which finger had been bit and there was still some bread to hand out. Except by this time, the geese had gotten restless. We were standing there, with bread in our hands, and we weren't sharing. </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7PIf4RMqChR03fNEAnDEOPo49ZtZ4JDp_lTXUPa-8aDpj4c0eSVeUiJiYRRjxFVvsiTjvL4JP0TboyH4Onhcz-WJE9BJm-tWq4bqLiSzJdKz5mpefyDPkkT4e3yU3qP5wjSwGP4ktco/s1600-h/DSC00038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121548146786904226" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7PIf4RMqChR03fNEAnDEOPo49ZtZ4JDp_lTXUPa-8aDpj4c0eSVeUiJiYRRjxFVvsiTjvL4JP0TboyH4Onhcz-WJE9BJm-tWq4bqLiSzJdKz5mpefyDPkkT4e3yU3qP5wjSwGP4ktco/s200/DSC00038.JPG" border="0" /></a>Those damn geese started getting belligerent. They started honking. Justin tried yelling and stomping to get them to scatter. They just looked mildly amused and continued walking towards him. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLbfaAc6p0eJHtzlANbbdgucBRFrnBx6tjkqkhNcFTR0PV4TTMkKeUx9MszZgABhe5D4__Hae_zjZhuY0koH4-IG3b2k1KiALDx_glbIDi9jj4lTu0z2Vcx2i3vyR0xm7LYIXyk-XQ58/s1600-h/DSC00044.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121548181146642658" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLbfaAc6p0eJHtzlANbbdgucBRFrnBx6tjkqkhNcFTR0PV4TTMkKeUx9MszZgABhe5D4__Hae_zjZhuY0koH4-IG3b2k1KiALDx_glbIDi9jj4lTu0z2Vcx2i3vyR0xm7LYIXyk-XQ58/s200/DSC00044.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>We basically emptied out the bread and ran. Those geese are mean.</div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-43497302871684111802007-10-11T12:02:00.000-05:002007-10-11T12:10:49.054-05:00When Sophie was born, Auntie Kate gave Jude his own baby to take care of - so that he had a new baby just like Mummy. Jude goes through ups and downs with Baby. There are entire weeks where Baby does not leave Jude's side and you better make sure you have Baby with you when you go out because when Jude realizes he left Baby at home, well, there's a major meltdown. Other times he can take or leave Baby. Like, he'll take Baby on a walk with us and then if Baby should happen to fall out of the stroller, oh well. Bye-bye Baby. Justin said one day Jude was at the park with Baby (who was waiting patiently in the stroller while Jude played at the park) and one of the neighbourhood kids (that is to say, someone we know - not some random kid who happened to be at the park) picked up Baby. Jude ran over, grabbed Baby and shoved the little boy, who despite being a bit bigger than Jude, fell down with a thud. Don't mess with Baby.<br /><br />So today I was putting Jude down for a nap and Jude was dancing Baby along the bars of the crib, making Baby say, "Hi Mummy!" (in a monster voice, it was actually pretty cute) and so I reached out and I patted Baby on the head and said, "Hi, Baby."<br />Jude snatched Baby away from me and furrowed his brow, "Gentle, Mummy! Gentle!"<br />This coming from someone who doesn't think twice about running over to <strong>my</strong> baby and tackling her and then rolling over on top of her.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-85945338238438151252007-09-27T14:07:00.000-05:002007-09-27T08:28:30.526-05:00Thanks a lotLike most people with kids (or I suppose people with pets?) our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">screen saver</span> on our computer is a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">slide show</span> of cute pictures of the Adorable <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Donovans</span>. Jude likes to call out the names of the people in the pictures as they scroll by. "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bophie</span>!" He'll screech. "Daddy!"<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />He was watching the show go by this afternoon and this picture appeared:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZrDmUgvXDJBsgm1oaXETWjDNYS3mmsAMnPaIOrkMwWhkhWAuWXX2xKpEL67YguHwHhUplbQZ4cVZ3_0kO9VoOABE9tsKLvMV712UZyEN7a7087cKY-iqeqQUy4SCBxjS4m3Gtn3_Kr4/s1600-h/PICT0040.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114592509065421938" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZrDmUgvXDJBsgm1oaXETWjDNYS3mmsAMnPaIOrkMwWhkhWAuWXX2xKpEL67YguHwHhUplbQZ4cVZ3_0kO9VoOABE9tsKLvMV712UZyEN7a7087cKY-iqeqQUy4SCBxjS4m3Gtn3_Kr4/s200/PICT0040.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />It was taken in Niagara Falls in the lobby of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Guinness</span> World Records museum and it shows what Sophie would have looked like were she the world's fattest man. It's kind of hard to even see that it is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Sophie</span>, as the background is so busy and the stomach is so unbelievably huge. When this shot came up Jude pointed excitedly at the computer screen and yelled, "Mummy!"beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-40702801962751753612007-09-26T14:27:00.000-05:002007-09-26T14:28:10.634-05:00edit<a href="http://adorabledonovans.blogspot.com/2007/09/lets-go-to-ex.html">This post</a> has been edited to add text. As requested.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-89441713059781058112007-09-26T08:30:00.000-05:002007-09-26T08:40:19.033-05:00Taking care of little sister<div>So unlike her brother, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Buppy</span> isn't such a fan of the cereal we've been feeding her. The first spoonful goes into her mouth with a big smile. The next one needs a bit of coaxing to get in there... All subsequent tries are met with resistance. Until Monday. </div><br /><div>I set out Jude and Justin's dinner on the table. I went back to the kitchen and made Sophie's cereal and then brought that out to the table. I went back in the kitchen again to get my dinner and I hear Justin asking Jude where he's going. Jude says very matter of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">factly</span>, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bophie</span>." He climbed off his chair, got Sophie's cereal and went back to his seat. Justin gave him a hand up and he sat and fed Sophie her dinner. And if Jude's aim was better, it probably would have been the most she had ever eaten. She opened her mouth wide at Jude's "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Umm</span>!" prompting and didn't even really get upset when the spoon slipped a little too far in the back of her mouth (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Justin</span> spent most of that meal saying, "Careful Jude! Not too far!"). </div><br /><div>The downside to this of course was that Jude didn't eat his own dinner. If we could only figure out how to get Buppy to feed Jude...</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIja7eQM6SLs3cDc6m3Q54ZWHsJ3ME7CWM2x5BCGME5BUwzVjsS2HLFB1xPYKUxbfauzHYQVYm6BlEI9WzM1V6jATAktRP9SwiRKSkoo2pDoixIiexcgewYbNe38uEUaLne7sw7yrGzl0/s1600-h/PICT0236.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114507116525642834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIja7eQM6SLs3cDc6m3Q54ZWHsJ3ME7CWM2x5BCGME5BUwzVjsS2HLFB1xPYKUxbfauzHYQVYm6BlEI9WzM1V6jATAktRP9SwiRKSkoo2pDoixIiexcgewYbNe38uEUaLne7sw7yrGzl0/s200/PICT0236.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygzectpp22hSzMc7lZ7Om8fb5H_sBD2rTQILUPXNWN1oGT7tX_ZhJBy4nM5yZzI-u3KHEVf17DCsgoqGo6jRm-__lbod1BemZvxpnrWLyoSVyaEyz_LRNNO_h-WmwoJsSATwP4wTwEvo/s1600-h/PICT0239.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114507133705512034" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygzectpp22hSzMc7lZ7Om8fb5H_sBD2rTQILUPXNWN1oGT7tX_ZhJBy4nM5yZzI-u3KHEVf17DCsgoqGo6jRm-__lbod1BemZvxpnrWLyoSVyaEyz_LRNNO_h-WmwoJsSATwP4wTwEvo/s200/PICT0239.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-40694856110159353082007-09-22T07:10:00.000-05:002007-09-22T07:39:33.511-05:00<div>I guess the other reason that it's hard to write these days is that I have <em>two</em> kids. One is slightly more mobile than she used to be, demanding more stimulation than a simple teether can offer. Right now in fact she is sitting in the computer room with me. I have her parked in front of the mirrored closet doors and she is shrieking with joy and camaraderie at the adorably charming gal she sees in front of her ("Oh you're just so cute!" I imagine she is saying, "I just LOVE your outfit!" As she yells and screeches away at her own reflection).</div><br /><div>Oh. And the <em>other</em> other thing is that every time I sit down to write, I forget what it was I was going to write about. </div><br /><div>But how's this?<br />Thursday I was reading a blog entry by another woman who was describing how her daughter (who is a month older than Jude) had just asked to sit on the potty and then proceeded to actually pee in it. Well, needless to say I was a bit jealous. I'd always heard that boys took longer and were harder to train than their female counterparts.</div><br /><div>And then (was there something in the air?) a few hours after my reading that Jude suddenly wants his pants taken off. Um, okay. And then off with the shirt - the diaper came off next. Jude ran over to the bathroom door and yells, "Mummy! Door!" So to open the door I go. And Jude climbed up on the toilet and sat and strained and then stood up and waved his groin in the general area of the toilet (Justin assures me this is <strong>not</strong> how he pees) spit into the water and then flushed the toilet, waving, "Bye-bye poo-poo."</div><br /><div>So he didn't actually <em>'perform' </em>on the toilet, but he sat there. And since Thursday we have repeated this scene about 5 times. Last night we went out and bought him a potty. He quite enjoyed sitting on it. And every time the urine deflector fell off (10 minutes into owning a potty and we're already thinking about getting a different one, one with a more sturdy urine deflector) I had to reach in and secure it back in to place or else put up with , "Mummy! Broken! Mummy! Broken!"</div><br /><div>Well, Jude is awake now and Sophie has turned herself around so she is no longer amusing herself with that fascinating child in the mirror. Have a picture!</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpnJ-iUFdq1jo4FdDEWyLEm6VTPFCEKqTxU3ySxUQisMY1bjJ9cJ2D879R2RkyUcAkXoWT1wkdhNnvaV8xDzTmBRV1dMHJbvC1Vmr7T0N1e2dgW6MdtFPwv2pdf-NsBOeG22EdZi9g1A/s1600-h/100_0100.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113006665405817906" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpnJ-iUFdq1jo4FdDEWyLEm6VTPFCEKqTxU3ySxUQisMY1bjJ9cJ2D879R2RkyUcAkXoWT1wkdhNnvaV8xDzTmBRV1dMHJbvC1Vmr7T0N1e2dgW6MdtFPwv2pdf-NsBOeG22EdZi9g1A/s200/100_0100.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Clean clean clean!</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHgP0zDdiiLdu8-v0o1vRcwmLunfEaojSYJcZNE6Dawl7WJyarxd3N0D3rn4UlhEU7EAJV3YXxuoY4ml4LKBFCFVqv-ip0nGjVeaY9qOfIUz336VYKtNyHtuzqBKWdvTVDtoELssW7a4/s1600-h/100_0137.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113006669700785218" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHgP0zDdiiLdu8-v0o1vRcwmLunfEaojSYJcZNE6Dawl7WJyarxd3N0D3rn4UlhEU7EAJV3YXxuoY4ml4LKBFCFVqv-ip0nGjVeaY9qOfIUz336VYKtNyHtuzqBKWdvTVDtoELssW7a4/s200/100_0137.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!</div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-34772218292370511022007-09-19T09:07:00.000-05:002007-09-19T11:43:54.576-05:00<div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELhNgAl2Wecko9IP_WIZVxWJRdkrNJ5ljew7faGkwnjIPF3ePZy5xXKKvaGwOgvbxfQfSEQ7kS6USXSa1Aq7zg9Te2NTCj1Fyu1ns2cCd51tA-yDYbwD6L0ddEj_TP30KaF3valTI94Y/s1600-h/100_0059.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>I haven't written anything in a while, because I'm not sure <em>what</em> to write. I guess there are some <strong>new</strong> things: Sophie is getting not one, but two teeth (the two on the bottom). Sophie ate her first meal (not a huge fan, but we're pretty sure she's had more flavourful things pass her lips courtesy of her big brother). Jude is talking a lot. I asked the doctor at Sophie's 6 month check-up how many words he should have by now. She said she'd be happy with 50. Justin and I sat and ticked 100 off the tops of our heads one night in the span of a couple of minutes. Then we kept adding to the list as the night wore on, or as we heard Jude come out with something we hadn't previously listed. I figure he's easily in the 200 hundred range.<br />He recognizes things. When we pull into Grandma Noreen's driveway he yells, "Gan-ma!" When we pull into my parents' he yells, "Nan!" (and when we get inside Nan's house he walks over to the top of the stairs and yells down at my dad who is almost always there, watching tv, "Hi Gan-dad!" And is confused if Grandad isn't there, "Where Gan-dad?"<br />He points to pictures and tells us who he sees, "Kate! Bup! Matt!"<br />The other day we were out of the house for a good 12 hours. We had a play date and birthday party the same day. At one point, tired and faced with more strangers bending down yelling, "Hi Jude!" in his face, he turned to me and lifted his arms up to me, "Home?" he said. As a baby, he would cry and fuss when we were away from home for a long time. He missed the smell of home, the comfort, the familiarity. And I used to make that excuse for him, "He just misses home." Saturday my suspicions were confirmed. He does miss home when he's away for too long.<br />Sophie is sitting up on her own, moving around a bit (mostly backwards - but she does seem to scoot herself sideways while remaining in a sitting position).<br />I will leave you with a couple of pictures, cause those kids are so cute.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lh0o1oKU0UFKcVDF3zAMahL2E7c4Zo3nXC3r8cxZrAu41NkIrHpQNSrLyr139HnrlNNKPBvlqHdkBP5r800MCeDf1fjibnqxuNMoJXk9R-JVSHEuhiz7pYhqqW-pbRxTTJOSeoDiWYo/s1600-h/100_0159.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111956237963674930" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-lh0o1oKU0UFKcVDF3zAMahL2E7c4Zo3nXC3r8cxZrAu41NkIrHpQNSrLyr139HnrlNNKPBvlqHdkBP5r800MCeDf1fjibnqxuNMoJXk9R-JVSHEuhiz7pYhqqW-pbRxTTJOSeoDiWYo/s200/100_0159.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuS-FWMD9Xw64RU1Owy_B6VUJKZcZ5Gey_yXBTFggiNknKP8pOMnrsb4buHe5RDQK8Q7ij2frvYFPK_Nnh-7WQyBSMtnHcoIT92mVqdrkxBysm4N4OBLYKdG-xkRQlgAojP6gI5tljT0/s1600-h/100_0059.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111956044690146594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuS-FWMD9Xw64RU1Owy_B6VUJKZcZ5Gey_yXBTFggiNknKP8pOMnrsb4buHe5RDQK8Q7ij2frvYFPK_Nnh-7WQyBSMtnHcoIT92mVqdrkxBysm4N4OBLYKdG-xkRQlgAojP6gI5tljT0/s200/100_0059.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIcMJ7PT_YOB8hWakTmC2w28Kffuk4h2jmu78cNkNISYsj-aA8oZyu6OxhMrBLLJS6sPbxbtUjvYdQNWVu5KIupftdcDMg4rpMpDh7LGEMvggZg5nQSU4eO2LSBbep5PSC7ff0XijGxI/s1600-h/100_0076.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111955679617926418" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIcMJ7PT_YOB8hWakTmC2w28Kffuk4h2jmu78cNkNISYsj-aA8oZyu6OxhMrBLLJS6sPbxbtUjvYdQNWVu5KIupftdcDMg4rpMpDh7LGEMvggZg5nQSU4eO2LSBbep5PSC7ff0XijGxI/s200/100_0076.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div></div></div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-10700722047278911702007-09-12T10:25:00.001-05:002007-09-12T10:28:40.261-05:00One more example:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjU0VVfE2OSt_NC8CoIk5RgrW0Ob6LaSXT7jgm7bV-Qe3fQyKZiVg-cX-yjcLePzokpzdjImYOuZXzgOyAtJRtstbeoXxfPGJnrsL-ZdGwXCbeQa_qAxTv-6WS_TaRcBaauIdUy0CRtc/s1600-h/100_0098.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109339950022046674" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdjU0VVfE2OSt_NC8CoIk5RgrW0Ob6LaSXT7jgm7bV-Qe3fQyKZiVg-cX-yjcLePzokpzdjImYOuZXzgOyAtJRtstbeoXxfPGJnrsL-ZdGwXCbeQa_qAxTv-6WS_TaRcBaauIdUy0CRtc/s200/100_0098.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Of why I call my son a nutbar. I was cutting his fingernails the other day and he wasn't happy about it. He was screaming and crying and wriggling every which way. Finally, I finished and I stood him up and said, "All done!" And sent him on his way. He sniffled a couple of times and turned to me and said, "Thank you." And then ran off to play with his toys. </div>beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-61431072938419360462007-09-05T09:00:00.000-05:002007-09-26T14:26:38.163-05:00Let's Go To The Ex<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3c2lyKIf8xua5V7PgAOiBQPlrRZvIAI5JQKz-avuWqf2a_CWLVT7-iMpUYNYSGPFIuJv6HVqfCk-05xAuZ4CRxBATpUJaiiCzwhX_rBRmmEyQ0H4CczBwtNrRlnVfnojErmAPAwVRLo/s1600-h/PICT0117.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106720950017461522" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3c2lyKIf8xua5V7PgAOiBQPlrRZvIAI5JQKz-avuWqf2a_CWLVT7-iMpUYNYSGPFIuJv6HVqfCk-05xAuZ4CRxBATpUJaiiCzwhX_rBRmmEyQ0H4CczBwtNrRlnVfnojErmAPAwVRLo/s200/PICT0117.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Most of the rides at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">CNE</span> were either for kids a little older than Jude or had long prohibitive lines. We weren't prepared to wait in them <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">with</span> an infant and a toddler. The petting zoo on the other hand proved to be lots of fun for Jude. He got to feed the animals (though Justin thinks he got nipped at one point - he suddenly refused to feed the animals) and saw up close what Old MacDonald's farm animals looked like.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4c061GHTkI155ORQfsOSPpfoNSmWrPCyBsa-mx7p0F7zw0BB6zt9XGUK3Ycql8M0VcZyY3Lv6OlXP_UKm9v-aZsWjjCwXbauDmtfz_NsQSx-eRTsIYX06gD-vK-tosCti11rJmynC9XU/s1600-h/PICT0133.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106720958607396130" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4c061GHTkI155ORQfsOSPpfoNSmWrPCyBsa-mx7p0F7zw0BB6zt9XGUK3Ycql8M0VcZyY3Lv6OlXP_UKm9v-aZsWjjCwXbauDmtfz_NsQSx-eRTsIYX06gD-vK-tosCti11rJmynC9XU/s200/PICT0133.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The Canadian Army had an area where you got to explore the inside of tanks and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">air crafts</span> and various army vehicles. This is one of Justin's favourite shots of Jude. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tattoo</span> was a nice touch. And <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">apparently</span> a prerequisite for being in the army.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLYpTNu_rZOpW2Ozy6omaIPMnckSpi_OxXmJ8K_Mstwlvf447eTqfLi7Dogr5DwTulqruwOOXcGrOLdPPRov3bWF2fZSZJJictKySZ5IYU2AGzXmrLMB9ZkavABaGyWDR6siHwO_stQU/s1600-h/PICT0143.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106720967197330738" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLYpTNu_rZOpW2Ozy6omaIPMnckSpi_OxXmJ8K_Mstwlvf447eTqfLi7Dogr5DwTulqruwOOXcGrOLdPPRov3bWF2fZSZJJictKySZ5IYU2AGzXmrLMB9ZkavABaGyWDR6siHwO_stQU/s200/PICT0143.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The farm pavilion had a sort of scavenger hunt where kids were sent out with buckets and had to "plant seeds", "milk cows" "pick apples" and such before they were given a chance to ride in these neat tractors in order to take their treasures to the market. Jude had fun. Justin wished the tractors were made for people his size.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgg1KK6jqnu8zT2GpnexCqZlkGMC-jrdKKcyb6kJUmW15t5OmtGmujU0byJO2zviEowKGPyhcOr36t_1llRoSLtrAD-Qb0HL3quD_TN1ADLtBeefD3JLEiijANUCxpXaQvbD_9-kDk0E/s1600-h/PICT0162.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106720975787265346" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgg1KK6jqnu8zT2GpnexCqZlkGMC-jrdKKcyb6kJUmW15t5OmtGmujU0byJO2zviEowKGPyhcOr36t_1llRoSLtrAD-Qb0HL3quD_TN1ADLtBeefD3JLEiijANUCxpXaQvbD_9-kDk0E/s200/PICT0162.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We got the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">CNE</span> around 11:00 am. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">This</span> picture was taken at about 6:00 pm. They were so exhausted they didn't even wake up when we took them out of the stroller and put them in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">car seats</span>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHyoMxGOBYc_8fLlFvwJSTQKlUwTxbyW5o3DCbpJhhd22DW7uhWZ-jCWeKj9aTA_UzFPVmdj5yausjXHk8p6Qp3xgUwz6vgW-RNx36XwjqaSc2WUDvoDdEnhfB2ME8m4kw01Cn8IQ8ws/s1600-h/PICT0166.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106720984377199954" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHyoMxGOBYc_8fLlFvwJSTQKlUwTxbyW5o3DCbpJhhd22DW7uhWZ-jCWeKj9aTA_UzFPVmdj5yausjXHk8p6Qp3xgUwz6vgW-RNx36XwjqaSc2WUDvoDdEnhfB2ME8m4kw01Cn8IQ8ws/s200/PICT0166.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Unfortunately, the catnap proved to be energizing for the kids. We on the other hand, were completely wiped out.<br /><br />A few pictures from our trip to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">CNE</span> on Friday.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7535287185041226392.post-44966679752158524922007-08-28T10:20:00.000-05:002007-08-28T10:28:39.344-05:00Yesterday I cleaned the spare room/office. It was long overdue and I didn't just tidy, I washed windows, curtains, baseboards etc. I called Justin to come up and take a look when I was done and of course Jude raced to see what was happening. Jude stepped into the room, looked around and yelled, "Oh! Clean!"<br />This room was so messy that a 21 month old noticed a difference. While Justin admired my handiwork, Jude and I Windexed the mirrored closet doors. Probably the biggest disappointment in this boy's life occurred during this process. When I squirted the Windex and handed him a paper towel, he happily went to cleaning the door. It wasn't until all the Windex was wiped away and I refused him the bottle that he collapsed in a heap on the floor, crying, sobbing, "Clean, clean, clean" through his tears.beckshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10034935220140615844noreply@blogger.com2