Jinx?

I hope it isn't bad luck to voice this thought, but I'm starting to think the worst of the 'twos' is behind us (the twins are exactly 2 1/2). Oliver and Wesley are growing up by the hour these days - it's amazing. James taught Oliver to read! He can look at a pile of blocks and pick out three correctly and say "O is for Oliver", "W is for Wesley", "M is for Max." Ollie and Wesley can both count, too, though it's usually like "one two five two two two", but that's pretty good in my opinion. They're working on gender identity, to their anthropologist mother's chagrin: big shoes, tools, and vehicles belong with daddy. Num-nums belong with mommy (apparently in their eyes I do nothing other than nurse). Oh, earrings belong with me, too. And every other day or so, they play on their own for 4-6 minutes. That used to never happen.

They're still wild and destructive, but more in a human way and less like baby chimpanzees who just drank pots of coffee. I'm still on my guard all the time with them, but once in a while I exhale. And wow, does it ever feel good.

The first kiss

Have you ever kissed a college president? You might say the opportunity hasn't presented itself, but maybe it's the kind of thing where you need to present yourself to the opportunity. After yesterday's Advent tree-lighting at the college, Wesley asked to be held, so he was up in my arms when we greeted Kim Phipps at the cookie table. I said, "Happy holidays!", and so did she, and then Wesley leaned forward, eyes closed, lips puckered, and made a perfect landing right on her lips. She liked it very much. That's got to bode well for both his romantic future and his educational future.

Guest Post from Mike, the Neighbor

So me and my brother-in-law are standing in the driveway last night when we see a man leaning out his second-story bedroom a few houses down, looking desperate. We laugh - go find a bridge, buddy, you wouldn't do more than break an ankle from the second floor! Then the man leaves, and a lady comes to the window and starts yelling.

"Can you hear me?"
"Yea, we can hear you," I replied.
"We're all locked in a room in this house. Please help us!"

We head over together. These people just moved into the neighborhood, so what do we know - they might be hallucinating drug addicts or caught in the midst of a domestic dispute. We get in there, and the house looks like they run a daycare or a zoo with all the shoes, booster seats, toys, and cat puke. We head upstairs and unlock the room they're all stuck in.

Two kids jumping on the beds, mom holding a baby, and dad frustrated with a bent coat hanger and a nail, his only available tools for unlocking the door. Looks like mom, dad, and baby went in to put the two-year-olds to bed, and one of the boys locked the door, ran into the room, and shut the door behind him.

But what do these people do to their kids? Two kids sleeping in a bedroom with old paint, no toys, no furniture, no decorations: just two bare beds. Window sealed shut with a dark blanket stapled at 1/2 inch intervals to the windowframe (corner ripped off tonight so they could call out to us). Two locks on the closet doors. Doorknob reversed so they can lock the kids in there.

We rushed back to our darkened driveway, lit two new cigarettes and wondered about Mike selling his house and moving sooner rather than later. If these are the kind of people moving into the neighborhood, there go property values down the tank.

Child Dedication at Grantham Church, Nov. 10, 2007

Wesley the Ambivalent Cow

Froggy Max

Oliver

Way-za? Way-za?

I like raisins as much as the next person, but once I've eaten some for breakfast, I'm satisfied. I don't need to talk about them constantly for the rest of the day. I guess that's just the difference between me and Oliver.