I'm horrible at keeping a journal and blogging. However, this must be written. When my children are grown and their childhoods run together in my mind, these are a few things I would like to remember.
Rowan and Ellis have a nursery of baby dolls. Each and everyone has a name. They started as names of babies they already know. Baby Samuel, Baby Levi (these were friends we know), Baby JoJo (after my cousin's daughter Josephine), Baby Claire (one of their cousins). Then once they ran out of names they began with these interesting ones. Baby Little, Baby Applesauce, and Baby Edo. Each baby has it's own personality. For instance, for a while if Baby Levi had his binky out he would throw up. The only way to stop him was to put his binky back into his mouth. Baby Applesauce likes to help with chores and direct what needs to be picked up next.
The kids love to put the babies in the strollers and race them up and down the hallway and crash them at the end. The babies are continually abused, thrown into the air, hung from the fan, crashed into the walls. But at in the car or bed time the babies are loved and cuddled with unwavering affection. We can always tell when the babies are being played with. It's when the kids are the loudest. I love seeing both my daughter and my son use these toys for such great imaginative play. I'll be truly sad when they grow out of them.
My children have their own language. They create words and use them as though they were a normal part of everyone's vocabulary. For instance, one day my children were talking to me about how they don't like pallygoats because they hurt their teeth. It took me weeks of continually hearing this word before I finally realized that pallygoats are popcorn kernels. I don't know where this word came from, but they have continued to use it for about the last 8 months. Too funny.
My Monkey Father
One day I found Ellis in her room laying on her bed looking at a book. It was one of those choose your own adventure books. On the cover was a picture of a yeti. As I walked in the room Ellis put the book down and looked up at me with a serious expression. Showing me the picture on the cover, she said, "This is my monkey father." "What??" I replied. She then proceeded to tell me about how before she lived with me she lived with her monkey father, but he had been killed and that's how she came to live with me.... Okay.
Now and then she will bring up her monkey father and talk about what a wonderful life she had before she was forced to come and live with us. Once on a kayak, she pointed up to a house on the edge of the lake, "That's where my monkey father lived."
It's absolutely hilarious how she creates these very real stories and continues to expand them as time goes on. I love hearing about monkey father!