Marveling

This week, I’ve been marveling that …

August has slipped in. Last week we went blueberry picking at the farm, a yearly tradition since Matthew was a newborn. I baked a blueberry and nectarine crumble with our findings. 

A conversation between two little ones never fails to amuse me.

Girl at playground: Pretend this is our house and the kitchen is here.

Matthew: And who wants to be Buzz Lightyear?

Girl at playground: I’ll be Carly and you can be Freddie.

Matthew: Let’s play pirate ship okay? 

In the same amount of time that it took to get the kids and I fed, dressed, and settled into activities (sleeping for Sam, coloring for Matt, uploading pictures for me) the Bobs had built a patio.

The ten thousand many times a four-year-old needs to hear that he has to finish his hot dog and grapes before he can have a much coveted cookie.

The best play things come from nature.

I couldn’t put this book Little Bee down, about a 16-year old refugee from Nigeria. Matthew has been enjoying a new book this week too called, Do Not Build AFrankenstein. We’ve read it over and over again.

A baby can sleep through what I’ll refer to as the-superglue-in-the-eye-incident, and a train ride, but not through a dark and quiet night. 

I still hold our baby to watch her sleep for awhile during those middle of the night feedings. It’s harder not to.

The body can adjust to the sleep deprivation caused by a newborn. A four-hour stretch feels equivalent to sleeping in until noon.

Matthew walks about with “spy gadgets” that he built from Trio Blocks in the waistband of his pants.

A list of eight simple rules on the bulletin board of our kitchen has made all the difference in a short time.