I don’t know where May went or why I never devised a Darndest Things post. It’s not that we didn’t have any moments, because we did. But they happened away from home, or at a time when I was unable to memorialize them. And so May slipped through my fingers and is gone.
However, I want to take the time to record how I perceived May to be. After all, the Darndest Things is primarily a way for me to act as our family historian {and entertain the readers, of course}.
E. Turns Five
E. turned five near the end of the month. All the baby mannerisms are gone. He does not toddle anymore; he walks, runs, leaps. May truly began his boyhood. He broke something on accident, and it only happened because we had allowed him to do certain things that were so safe when he was two and so unsafe now. Not in the sense of his safety, but rather the safety of our things.
This age is all about language development, and I am sure the coming months will be full of reports of what E. says. Five is surely the age where the difference between a child from a reading sort of family and a child from a TV-watching sort of family becomes more pronounced. E. has spent the month toying with new words he learns in the books we read. He thinks squat is hilarious. He pointed to a strawberry flower and said, “Mom, do you see that flower there? It pleases me.” He now calls cars and trucks vehicles because he likes the sound of the word.
A. is Two-And-One-Quarter
A.’s hair is getting longer. I can almost pull it back out of her eyes. Or I would bother to try if she wasn’t so stubborn about messing it up the second I finish. She has a certain air of silliness about her. She is definitely a goofball as far as children go. Have I ever mentioned she walks around with her hands over her eyes? She runs into things and cries, but always does it again. She has an overwhelming desire to sing Baby Baluga during sermons at church.
A. insists on being held. Often. Some days, she is held more than the baby. Much more than the baby. I thought that perhaps this revealed some sort of defect in her or me or our parenting or something, but now I think this might just be how she is. Silly…and affectionate. Our little ray of sunshine, both dancing around and warming our home.
We call her the Thumb Junkie. She is addicted to thumb sucking. We are trying to break her of it and forbid it except for sleeping and church {keeps her quiet during sermons!}. But, like her societal druggie counterpart, she sneaks it. Sometimes, I hold her and fend off the hand as it reaches for her face, and she shakes as if in withdrawals. I reach for coffee on a hard days. She reaches for her thumb. This is definitely a drug-of-choice for her.
Q. is Four Months
People always comment on how contented Q. is, and I often say, “She is always like this,” not to brag, but simply because she is. Q. and I stay together quite a lot. While the others are out running wildly through the sprinklers or tumbling down the slide in the yard, Q. and I are cuddling in my rocking chair. I have to steal the free minutes when I can or I miss them entirely and regret it by day’s end.
Q. has learned to roll around the room to reach her toys. She always has a smile for anyone who takes the time to chat with her. She giggles with A. She watches E. intently, and it is obvious she admires him very much. She gets into moods where she has a lot to say. She is very ticklish. She sleeps on her side, and always wakes up with a stuffed animal in her arms, held tightly to her chest, no matter how far said stuffed animal was from her when we put her down for bed.
We’ve received a lot of comments about Q. having “wise eyes” or having an “air of wisdom” about her, and we always find this interesting since her name means wise.
All Three Together
I watched all three children lay on the baby’s mat the other morning. A. had a magazine she was thumbing through. E. was carelessly flying a toy plane in the air. Q. was watching the other two, all smiles and laughter. And I made a mental note to savor that moment, the peace and happiness of it all, the sheer simplicity of life, so abundant in our home.
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