The big news of this post is not visible in these pictures: Collin got a haircut. As you can see, it was getting quite long. After our friends the Bosharts came to visit, Collin decided to grow his hair long like Jack (a big kid!) But he gets so sweaty and hot in the summer than Ryan persuaded him to get a buzz cut. Now we all love rubbing his head for luck.
We are working on several things with Collin this summer. One is his inability to use anything approaching an “indoor voice.” My theory is that he is so used to shouting at big boys on the playground until they listen to him (“HEY ROSS! HEY! ROSS! LOOK AT ME!! I’M OPTIMUS PRIME! KARATE KICK!! ROSS! LUCAS!! WATCH ME!) that he thinks that’s how he needs to talk all the time. Even when he whispers it’s a ridiculously loud stage whisper.
He did, however, make me day a few weeks ago when he said the following to his beloved babysitter: My mom is 26—no, I think maybe, I think 36. But don’t worry, Carrie. She doesn’t have any wrinkles and I don’t think she’s even a little bit close to dying yet.
What a relief!
The other ordeal Collin faces soon is the mailing off of all his “passas” (pacifiers) to Lolita, the Pacifier Fairy (kindly voiced by Auntie Nette). When he does this he will get an amazing prize in return, but he’s not sure anything could be worth it. So wish us—and him—luck.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Princess Lilah
Ah, Princess Lilah. She is the most beautiful of the Princesses who come to the Prince and he always chooses her to marry. Then they “have a weddin’,” take a nap, and the Prince (who is usually frantically trying to make dinner while also choosing his bride) must open presents from Princess Lilah, who turns out to be a kitty. Meow, meow.
Mercurial. That’s our daughter. She finds us all hilarious, as evidenced by her assertions that, “Mommy, you crack me out!” Then I do something cruel like throw away the filthy shoelace she found on the playground and is now sucking on (ewwww) and she turns into demon child . . .
Lilah (enraged): I’m not going to be your friend anymore! I’m not going to be your daughter anymore, either! Don’t talk to me! Leave me alone! (brief pause) Mommy, I want to hear the kitty song: Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow . . .
Lilah also talked to the pacifier fairy on the phone and pronounced, approvingly, that Lolita has a “strong but sweet voice, kind of like my singing voice.” Lilah is big on both singing and dancing, which she does in a style she calls “serious” dancing. It involves a very scrunched-up, angry face and a lot of punching and it is hard to keep a serious face while watching this dancing, especially when, as happened this morning, the dancer accidentally punches herself in the face.
And to think we almost named her Lilah Grace.
Mercurial. That’s our daughter. She finds us all hilarious, as evidenced by her assertions that, “Mommy, you crack me out!” Then I do something cruel like throw away the filthy shoelace she found on the playground and is now sucking on (ewwww) and she turns into demon child . . .
Lilah (enraged): I’m not going to be your friend anymore! I’m not going to be your daughter anymore, either! Don’t talk to me! Leave me alone! (brief pause) Mommy, I want to hear the kitty song: Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow . . .
Lilah also talked to the pacifier fairy on the phone and pronounced, approvingly, that Lolita has a “strong but sweet voice, kind of like my singing voice.” Lilah is big on both singing and dancing, which she does in a style she calls “serious” dancing. It involves a very scrunched-up, angry face and a lot of punching and it is hard to keep a serious face while watching this dancing, especially when, as happened this morning, the dancer accidentally punches herself in the face.
And to think we almost named her Lilah Grace.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
No, we couldn't find any more shades of pink to put in this picture
Seriously. This post will be about more than this picture (see, for example, the picture on Flickr of Collin and little Ava as well). But the incredibly clashing colors in here seemed to need a mention (or an apology!)
Last weekend, our very dear friends Katy and Dean Boshart brought their three kids (Jack, 10, Sam, 7, and Ava--6 months and gorgeous) to visit. It was the first time any of us had met Ava and Ryan and I plotted several plans to steal her, abandoning them only when we saw how tired Katy and Dean were and remembered that we didn't like being that tired.
Collin's response to the weekend: JACK AND SAM!!!!! SAM!!! BIg boys are cool, I'm a big boy, soon I'm going to be 10 years old and then I can jump off the sofa and throw the basketball and play cool games like Jack and Sam . . .
Lilah's response: Goo goo ga ga.
And also: "I need a diaper. And a high chair." In short, some serious attempts at regression to infancy. We don't know if it was the attention Ava got, how cute Ava was (not that Lilah's not cute, but still), or the extremely soft and bright pink fuzzy blanket that Ava brought with her, but Lilah had some sense that this litle girl was onto a good thing.
In other Lilah news, many of you have no doubt heard about her ascension to the throne as--self-titled, I assure you--The Mean Queen. This is an onerous and wearisome responsibility, as it involves generally being mean to and with small stuffed animals, bossing around Baby Troll (Collin) and Mommy Troll (guess who) and avoiding the surpassing authority of Daddy, who refuses to cooperate and remains, well, Daddy. An amusing recent conversation in this vein:
Mean Queen: Mommy. You and Collie need to do what I say because you my customers.
Mommy: No, honey, customers are people who buy things from you. We're your subjects.
Mean Queen: Subjects?
Mommy: That's right. That's what you call us.
Ryan (to me, upon walking in and overhearing the above): What is wrong with you? Are you crazy? Stop encouraging her.
Well, I don't want her to get made fun of at the World Convention of Evil But Cute Rulers for using the wrong word, do I?
Last weekend, our very dear friends Katy and Dean Boshart brought their three kids (Jack, 10, Sam, 7, and Ava--6 months and gorgeous) to visit. It was the first time any of us had met Ava and Ryan and I plotted several plans to steal her, abandoning them only when we saw how tired Katy and Dean were and remembered that we didn't like being that tired.
Collin's response to the weekend: JACK AND SAM!!!!! SAM!!! BIg boys are cool, I'm a big boy, soon I'm going to be 10 years old and then I can jump off the sofa and throw the basketball and play cool games like Jack and Sam . . .
Lilah's response: Goo goo ga ga.
And also: "I need a diaper. And a high chair." In short, some serious attempts at regression to infancy. We don't know if it was the attention Ava got, how cute Ava was (not that Lilah's not cute, but still), or the extremely soft and bright pink fuzzy blanket that Ava brought with her, but Lilah had some sense that this litle girl was onto a good thing.
In other Lilah news, many of you have no doubt heard about her ascension to the throne as--self-titled, I assure you--The Mean Queen. This is an onerous and wearisome responsibility, as it involves generally being mean to and with small stuffed animals, bossing around Baby Troll (Collin) and Mommy Troll (guess who) and avoiding the surpassing authority of Daddy, who refuses to cooperate and remains, well, Daddy. An amusing recent conversation in this vein:
Mean Queen: Mommy. You and Collie need to do what I say because you my customers.
Mommy: No, honey, customers are people who buy things from you. We're your subjects.
Mean Queen: Subjects?
Mommy: That's right. That's what you call us.
Ryan (to me, upon walking in and overhearing the above): What is wrong with you? Are you crazy? Stop encouraging her.
Well, I don't want her to get made fun of at the World Convention of Evil But Cute Rulers for using the wrong word, do I?
Ohh, Casanova . . .
You look at this delightful picture of Collin in tights and your first thought might not be: "Well, I be this guy is good with the ladies."
But then you would be underestimating the subtleties of Collin's mind, as well as, frankly, the extent of his success wih the ladies. As evidence, I submit a conversation from the car just last week:
Collin: (coy) Mommy, I have two new girlfriends.
Me: Really, buddy? Who?
Collin: Naomi and Katya.
Me: (blankly) Oh. Wait--who was your old girlfriend?
Collin: (infinite ennui) Oh. Rachel.
And how does he get these girlfriends of his? Collin has figured out a tactic that his other male friends at school have not: tell the girls that you like princesses.
Next he is going to learn to love shoe shopping.
But then you would be underestimating the subtleties of Collin's mind, as well as, frankly, the extent of his success wih the ladies. As evidence, I submit a conversation from the car just last week:
Collin: (coy) Mommy, I have two new girlfriends.
Me: Really, buddy? Who?
Collin: Naomi and Katya.
Me: (blankly) Oh. Wait--who was your old girlfriend?
Collin: (infinite ennui) Oh. Rachel.
And how does he get these girlfriends of his? Collin has figured out a tactic that his other male friends at school have not: tell the girls that you like princesses.
Next he is going to learn to love shoe shopping.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Bat Family Photo
Yes, Collin is getting muscle-y, isn't he? :)
This is Halloween morning, before they headed off to school and the marathon of trick-or-treating (the teachers walk them to all the surrounding office buildings). Lilah reported being so tired by the end that she tried to lie down in the middle of the street but her teacher wouldn't let her. Meanie.
Lilah, by the way, is not Bat-girl. She is Bat-gayle. This is her pronunciation and she is sticking to it, no matter how often we correct her. So perhaps she is a version of the superhero sidekick who hails from Appalachia specifically? Tune in to future adventures to find out . . .
As for Batman here, he is constantly busy fending off the Joker, the Riddler, and other villains, though he did take a minute on Halloween night to consume a new and exotic super-hero food. It was round and fluted on the edges, just like a Bat-a-rang (Batman's signature weapon) but tasted of chocolate and peanut butter and was gone in one gulp. Vigilantes need to keep up their strength, after all.
This is Halloween morning, before they headed off to school and the marathon of trick-or-treating (the teachers walk them to all the surrounding office buildings). Lilah reported being so tired by the end that she tried to lie down in the middle of the street but her teacher wouldn't let her. Meanie.
Lilah, by the way, is not Bat-girl. She is Bat-gayle. This is her pronunciation and she is sticking to it, no matter how often we correct her. So perhaps she is a version of the superhero sidekick who hails from Appalachia specifically? Tune in to future adventures to find out . . .
As for Batman here, he is constantly busy fending off the Joker, the Riddler, and other villains, though he did take a minute on Halloween night to consume a new and exotic super-hero food. It was round and fluted on the edges, just like a Bat-a-rang (Batman's signature weapon) but tasted of chocolate and peanut butter and was gone in one gulp. Vigilantes need to keep up their strength, after all.
Now We Are Four
Here they are in their gorgeous birthday outfits from Mom-Mom and Pappy. The celebration of Collin and Lilah's fourth birthday lasted nearly a week (!!) beginning with their exchange of their gifts to each other (a Superman action figure and a Cinderella coloring book), then the arrival of a whole box full of hot wheels from Uncle Paul in California. Collin went to a Superhero themed party at the local library and had pancakes at a restaurant, while Lilah hosted several friends (and Mom-Mom) for a tea party at our house (check our new pictures on flickr to see pictures of that memorable event.) Then they went to church and put coins in the little collection box, one for each year . . . and every meal for four days running they each ate a petit four courtesy of Uncle Scott and Auntie Paula.
Spoiled? Who? The best news from a parent's standpoint is that when the twins opened their gifts from Gramps (my dad) and discovered that he had given them each a $10 bill, they immediately tried to use it to pay the bill at the restaurant where we were eating.
Don't worry, I didn't let them.
Spoiled? Who? The best news from a parent's standpoint is that when the twins opened their gifts from Gramps (my dad) and discovered that he had given them each a $10 bill, they immediately tried to use it to pay the bill at the restaurant where we were eating.
Don't worry, I didn't let them.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Exhibit A: the chin
This is a picture from our generally lovely day at the Pittsburgh zoo, so the fact that Lilah is not smiling here should not lead you to think that she wasn't having fun. What I would like you to take note of is the pointy, firm, and mobile chin, because we've been seeing a lot of it here lately.
We've entered a new realm here at the Claycomb household, one that we are saddened to have to label the Temper Tantrum Zone. And this girl is currently the reigning queen. A few prime moments:
--I lift her out of the car when she wanted to get out on her own. She hauls off and hits the car. Repeatedly.
--She kicks Ryan in the face (accidentally), but then refuses to apologize. Instead, she goes so ballistic that she has to be corralled in her room with all her toys removed for nearly 30 minutes.
--During a time-out with me in the room, she rushes me and beats me about the head and neck with both tiny hands, then literally growls at me, says, "I'm going to DO something," and begins to whip me with her beloved purple blanket.
We love her. Really we do. We tell her every day.
Anyone interested in babysitting??
We've entered a new realm here at the Claycomb household, one that we are saddened to have to label the Temper Tantrum Zone. And this girl is currently the reigning queen. A few prime moments:
--I lift her out of the car when she wanted to get out on her own. She hauls off and hits the car. Repeatedly.
--She kicks Ryan in the face (accidentally), but then refuses to apologize. Instead, she goes so ballistic that she has to be corralled in her room with all her toys removed for nearly 30 minutes.
--During a time-out with me in the room, she rushes me and beats me about the head and neck with both tiny hands, then literally growls at me, says, "I'm going to DO something," and begins to whip me with her beloved purple blanket.
We love her. Really we do. We tell her every day.
Anyone interested in babysitting??
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