I think we have a live-wire on our hands!

Last night as I was finishing my preparations for dinner, Seth was playing with the kids in the living room. Talia, after enduring her nightly training in crawling and standing, was grouchy--and fussing loudly to prove it. A few minutes later I realized Seth and Benjamin had gone off to the kids' room to engage in some manly activity (wrestling, by the sound of it) and Talia was playing quietly in the living room. Very quietly. I decided she had probably just been bothered by all the noise the boys were making and, as it they had removed themselves from the immediate vicinity, she was content.

I should insert here that early in Benjamin's life I learned that extraordinary quiet was nothing to worry about. In almost every case it meant that he was reading a book or engaged elsewhere in harmless play. In only one case, to my recollection, has "too quiet" ended in disaster. And so I have gotten used to this interpretation, I suppose. I may have to re-train myself.

In a few minutes Seth returned to the living room. I heard him come down the hall and then I heard him stop. "Oh my goodness, Baby Girl!" I turned from the stove to look into the living room. This is what I saw:

Our family game, and other Tali-isms

Talia has invented a family game. (This was actually a couple of months ago, but I never blogged about it...and it's so cute!) The game goes like this: We're all sitting at the dinner table and Tali raises both hands straight above her head. She looks around expectantly. Everyone is supposed to drop everything to copy her. Then with a pleased expression she looks around as if to say, "look what I did!"

Another game my little girl loves is peek-a-boo. She likes it best when she initiates it. Often when I am changing her diaper both hands will grasp the "flap" of her onesie, which is pulled up around her middle, and pull it up over her face. Then with great flourish and an expectant grin she pulls it down again. "Peek-a-boo!" I say. She responds with wildly flailing arms and a belly laugh that melts me every time! This little girl is definitely a social creature.

I am also happy to report that Talia has officially uttered her first word. And of course it is..."Daddy!" We have suspected that she knew what "da-da" meant for a few weeks now, but no conclusive proof. She would sometimes say it when Seth came in the room or when she heard his voice, but not always. But yesterday I was holding her and talking to Seth on the phone. When I hung up I said, "That was your Daddy, baby girl. He's coming home soon." She reached out for the phone and said, "Da-ee." I tested her, "are you saying Daddy?" She grinned. "Da-ee." I called Seth back and put him on speaker phone. "Do you want to talk to your Daddy?" She started kicking wildly and reaching out for the phone. "Da-ee. Da-ee. Da-ee." I think she knows her Daddy! Lest anyone feel sorry for me (remember Benjamin didn't say "Mama" until he was 17 months old!), Tali does at least babble the "ma-ma" sounds (which Benjamin never did) so I'm confident that it won't take 17 months this time around.

We're still working on crawling and teeth. We do occasionally get a token backward scoot and I can now see two faint little white lines on her gums where her teeth will presumably sprout one day. For now I'm just happy she can't get to the Christmas tree where she would certainly gum any and all ornaments within reach to a soggy death.

More Benjaminisms

Benjamin's newest favorite game: he pops out from behind some visual barrier between you and him and exclaims, "There he is!" (A variation on the above: When he pops out he yells, "I see you!")

Now this one I don't quite get. Frequently when in the kitchen Benjamin will hide himself underneath the kitchen table. Once hidden he repeats, "Uh-oh...uh-oh...uh-oh"...ad nauseum and nothing you say can persuade him that there is nothing, in fact, to be uh-ohing about. I'm still puzzling....

I sympathize with a fellow parent of a toddler who recently posted on their blog about the trouble they are having with getting said toddler to respond in the affirmative. Benjamin also rarely says, "yes." This sits in the middle of my "bothers me" meter; it's not a terribly disturbing trend, but the thing that baffles and yes, frustrates me, is when he answers no and means yes. It happened today.
Me: "Do you want some applesauce?"
Benjamin: (very politely and earnestly) "No tank-tu"
I, foolishly assuming no meant no, and turning to open the fridge, was met with much loud wailing and violent pushing of nearby objects. Hmm. Evidently "no tank-tu" sometimes means "yes, please."

News Flash!

We received a letter in the mail late last week. It began as follows, "Dear Seth, I am pleased to notify you that you have successfully passed your Graduate Comprehensive Examinations...." (!) I just wanted to let you all in on the happy news. That light (at the end of the tunnel) is looking brighter and brighter! Thanks for all the encouragement and prayers.