It wasn’t an easy conclusion to come to, but it doesn’t make sense any other way.
See, we put him to bed in his crib, in a room he shares with his sister. Round about 3 or 4 or 5 in the morning he wakes up, decides to get up (nocturnal, anyone?) climbs out of his crib (or flies, it’s not like we’re watching him) and then makes his way through his usually toy shrewn room in the dark, opens the door, always closes the door and then walks through the dark house (can he see in the dark or does he have a sonar system?). He then opens our door, closes our door (not quietly) and then stands by my bed staring at me until I wake up. At least I assume he’s staring, except that it’s dark and I can’t see. (I’m not a bat.) It’s creepy and I’m pretty sure that’s what bats do.
But if I haven’t convinced you yet, this next part will (probably) do it.
So, the same sonar system, nocturnal, up in the night, star at mom while she sleeps, creepy bat maneuver happened the other night around 3 am. He nursed, he fussed, I turned over and ignored him and he feel asleep. I woke up a little chilly and reached for the covers, only to discover that there was an upside down
bat child in my bed. His head was around where my knees were. And his feet were in smelling distance. So, not only could I not pull up the covers, but I also had to sleep with a bat that can kick.
Also? He eats fruit.
(Totally a bat.)
Have you ever not done something for so long that you don’t know how to come back? And then everything is different when you come back?
(And by everything, I mean wordpress looks completely different now. What is up with all the icons?)
So, let’s just clear up the most obvious questions.
1. No, I’m not pregnant.
2. No, we haven’t moved and aren’t planning to. (Which means nothing, if you know us at all.)
So, I thought as a soft entry, I’d just throw up some videos of Ethan, as he has probably changed the most. He seems to enjoy having people laugh at him, so feel free.
And if that wasn’t enough, he did more for us.
And last but not least, when he figures us out.
“F my name! Mom! F my name.”
“You wrote my name! You wrote F.”
“This is mine. ’cause F.”
Spying an F on a bag of chips. “My name! F my name. Fecity my name. Why is my name there?”
It’s nice that she’s become so proficient at spelling and writing her name but I can’t wait until she figures out that she doesn’t actually own the letter, F.
P.S. How was everyone’s summer? Can you believe it’s over? (I mean, in theory.)
Felicity (at breakfast):
Dear God, thank you food that all day Mom make. Sooo wicious*.
Yes? Did you call me?
Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just getting into things you thought were out of my reach.
Me: Here, Felicity. Put this in your drawer.
Felicity: Hmm. How ’bout boys do it.
F: Well…I’m here. Jumping.
Me: You’re too busy jumping?
(At the store)
F: Oooh. My Chocate!
Me: That’s not your chocolate.
F: Yes! I said it!
Me: That doesn’t make it yours.
F: Yes, does.
(On a walk at the state park)
Me: Oh, look. There are lots of bugs on that flower.
F: That okay. That okay there are bugs on my flowers.