Last night, H and I were getting the boys ready for bed. H had Henry up on the changing table, and I was changing Jack on the floor next to them, using the bath mat as changing pad. Jack no longer lays still while getting a diaper/clothing change, so it’s actually much safer to just go ahead and change him on the floor.
So last night, I had Jack’s diaper off, and was unfolding and laying out the new diaper, when Jack rolled himself over and pulled up on the edge of the (closed) toilet. And he got himself positioned, stood there for a couple of seconds, then peed all over the base of the toilet. Good job, buddy!
When something is really funny to Henry, he screams and sticks his butt out. Which, in turn, makes me laugh. And then he laughs harder, and sticks his butt out further. Rinse, repeat. We can spend a good five minutes cracking ourselves up over this.
Yep, when I’m not eye-peelingly tired, this stuff is pretty fun.
I’ve been grumbling lately about how the boys like to say “dadadadada” or “bapa” or “lalablahla” or whatever, but never “MAMA”. Today, Henry finished nursing, looked right at me, made loving eye contact, and said, clear as a bell, “Hey, Dada”. I pointed at myself and said, “No, MA-MA.” And he looked back at me and said, “PAPA.” Yeah. I don’t actually take it personally or anything, but when H comes home, they often look at him and say “dada” or “papa”. Maybe it’s all just random. Maybe “dada” or “papa” just means “adult caretaker who I see frequently” to them. But still. MAMA, kiddo. I’m the MAMA.
Henry’s favorite song is the alphabet song. En Español.
In the mornings now, Jack likes to kneel next to me and pull up my shirt and smack my belly while I lie there, attempting to wake up. This is incredibly funny apparently, since he laughs and laughs and laughs. Laugh all you want, baby. It’s your fault (and your brother’s) that the tummy jiggles like that.