Saturday, March 21, 2009

Sunrise, Sunset

Max recently got a new big boy bike from his cousin, Ben. (Well, actually, technically, my cousin Ben.) (Well, no, really truly actually, my cousin's son Ben. But I can never remember whether that makes Max and Ben second cousins or first cousins once removed or second cousins twice removed or what, and who wants to wade through all of that anyway? So, for the sake of all of our health and happiness, let's just call him The World's Cousin Ben, okay?) Max was very excited about the bike and all the sweet intoxicating freedom it represented, and he took an inaugural lap around the living room with his uncle Augie (well, actually, MY uncle Augie, but let's just stop there), but then it was just a hair too big for him and it was really cold and rainy, and so there has been a longish interlude between the acquiring of the bike and the actual riding of the bike. Last week, though, the weather was in the 80s, Max has spent the last couple of months eating and sleeping and growing like a weed (a weed that eats and sleeps, I guess, and I hate that expression, anyway, because whereas you are unhappy about a fast-growing tenacious weed, you are generally happy about a fast-growing healthy child. I'm playing it fast and loose with the parentheses today, aren't I?), and so Ian and Max took advantage of the moment and began learning how to ride on the big boy bike.

They've gone out practicing three or four times, and Max's golden laugh rings out the entire time he is on the bike. After the first practice session, Ian came in and said to me, "I'm having one of those landmark father-son moments, teaching my boy how to ride his bike. I can't believe how big he is, now." I can't, either. The only consolation for losing Baby Max is that Boy Max is the most fascinating and charming and lovely and funny boy in the entire universe, and he is still ours. For a little while, at least.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Maggie Speaks, The World Trembles

Maggie to the general public, at the dinner table: I need chocka. (transcriber's note: chocka = chocolate milk)
Mama: After dinner you can have some chocolate milk, Maggie.
Maggie: No. No! I want chocka! (covers eyes with tragic hand and wails)
Dad: Finish eating, first, Maggie.
Maggie: I don't want it! I like chocka!
Mama: Not right now. Finish your dinner.
Maggie: Chocka.
Mama: Drink your water for right now, please.
(unintelligible grumbling from the high chair for a minute or two)
Maggie (raising one finger in the air): Hey, Guys! I have idea! I have idea!
(pause while Ian and Chelsa simultaneously marvel at Maggie's verbosity and brace themselves for the inevitable)
Mama: What's your idea, Maggie?
Maggie: How about ... chocka!

Friday, March 13, 2009

They Annoy Each Other, But They Amuse Me

Maggie to Max: Hi, Mac!
Max: Hello, Maggie.
Maggie: More play, Mac? I wanna play!
Max: I am not called Mac. I'm Ma-X. M-A-X spells MAX.
Maggie: Hi, Mac!
Max: Stop it, Maggie.
Maggie: I love you, too, Mac.
Max: (Heavy sigh) Mama! Maggie is teasing me!
Mama: No, no. She's trying to say your name, but she doesn't know how to pronounce the 'x', so she's saying 'Mac' instead of 'Max'. You just have to keep reminding her, and showing her how to pronounce it the right way, and she'll get it eventually.
Max: Maggie makes a lot of problems.
Maggie: I'm me!
Max: I know, Maggie.
Maggie: I love you, too.
Max: I love you, too, Maggie. But you really need to learn how to announce my name.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Happy Birthday, Sophia!

We wish we were there, or you were here, so we could hand-feed you ice cream and bask in the glow of your first year triumph. Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl!

Monday, March 02, 2009

Cirque de Sommeil

Question: Why is that Maggie is almost always roused to complete and greatly aggrieved wakefulness by my moving a single inch away from her body, breathing, showering, sneezing, or trying to do anything that in any way does not involve nursing and snuggling a Maggie, and yet Max resting his giant feet directly on her person apparently does not disturb her in the slightest? No, really. I want to know.