Miriam has got some weird exclamations.
Miri: Oh, Mikes!
Seth: Huh?
Miri: "Mikes" means "Oh, bomb." And "Oh, bomb" means "Dang it."
2014-02-23
2014-02-18
bravery
Last night for Family Home Evening (and in honor of Presidents Day) we took the kids swimming at the aquatic center. Andrea spent most of her time in the shallow end with Gwen and Miri, while Bekah, Ana, and I spent most of our time bobbing around the rest of the pool, floating and playing tag and having "torpedo races."
Prior to last night, Bekah had jumped off the low dive one, maybe two times. As we got to the pool last night she told me, "Dad, I'm not sure if I want to do the diving board." "Okay, sweetie," I said. "Whatever you want to do." But after fifteen or twenty minutes in the water she had worked up enough nerve that I accompanied her to the deep end where she trepidatiously walked to the end of the board, hopped off, and triumphantly swam to the side.
Twenty minutes later, we returned again to the deep end. This time she was a little less hesitant, even throwing her arms and legs into the air as she jumped and doing a bounce or two on the board before plunging in. I followed her off the low dive each time, working on my flipping skills, because there's nothing people to see more than a hairy 31 year-old man doing flips off the low dive.
Finally, as we neared the end of public swim hours, she asked, "Can we go a few more times?" "Okay," I said. "How many more times?" "Five."
Times one through four showed a continued increase in bravery and skill. Finally, it was time for the last jump. I could tell she was psyching herself up for something.
"I want to do it, Dad. I want to do the high dive."
"Oh, Rebekah. Are you sure? You don't have to."
"I want to Dad."
So we waited in line. As we neared the front of it, I listened to her talking to herself. "Ohhhhh, I don't want to. I'm too scared. But I do want to. I really do. But it's really high." Back and forth, back and forth. By this time, Andrea and the little girls had come to the edge of the pool to watch.
I was sure she was going to talk herself down. But finally, with nobody between her and that long climb, she grasped the ladder rungs and pulled herself up to the top of the diving board. Then, to my utter astonishment, she walked to the end and jumped off.
Elated, I climbed up the board and flung myself off as well, then swam to the edge of the pool laughing and beaming. "I did it, Dad! I did it! It was so scary, I thought I was going to die, but it was so awesome. Only my hands really hurt because the water smacked them, and my swimsuit rode way up, but I DID IT!" I picked her up and twirled her around in my arms. "Bekah, I'm SO proud of you! That was so brave."
And it was. Rebekah has, for a long time, been the most "cautious" of our children. But now there's a new kid in town, a brave kid, and no high dive is safe.
Prior to last night, Bekah had jumped off the low dive one, maybe two times. As we got to the pool last night she told me, "Dad, I'm not sure if I want to do the diving board." "Okay, sweetie," I said. "Whatever you want to do." But after fifteen or twenty minutes in the water she had worked up enough nerve that I accompanied her to the deep end where she trepidatiously walked to the end of the board, hopped off, and triumphantly swam to the side.
Twenty minutes later, we returned again to the deep end. This time she was a little less hesitant, even throwing her arms and legs into the air as she jumped and doing a bounce or two on the board before plunging in. I followed her off the low dive each time, working on my flipping skills, because there's nothing people to see more than a hairy 31 year-old man doing flips off the low dive.
Finally, as we neared the end of public swim hours, she asked, "Can we go a few more times?" "Okay," I said. "How many more times?" "Five."
Times one through four showed a continued increase in bravery and skill. Finally, it was time for the last jump. I could tell she was psyching herself up for something.
"I want to do it, Dad. I want to do the high dive."
"Oh, Rebekah. Are you sure? You don't have to."
"I want to Dad."
So we waited in line. As we neared the front of it, I listened to her talking to herself. "Ohhhhh, I don't want to. I'm too scared. But I do want to. I really do. But it's really high." Back and forth, back and forth. By this time, Andrea and the little girls had come to the edge of the pool to watch.
I was sure she was going to talk herself down. But finally, with nobody between her and that long climb, she grasped the ladder rungs and pulled herself up to the top of the diving board. Then, to my utter astonishment, she walked to the end and jumped off.
Elated, I climbed up the board and flung myself off as well, then swam to the edge of the pool laughing and beaming. "I did it, Dad! I did it! It was so scary, I thought I was going to die, but it was so awesome. Only my hands really hurt because the water smacked them, and my swimsuit rode way up, but I DID IT!" I picked her up and twirled her around in my arms. "Bekah, I'm SO proud of you! That was so brave."
And it was. Rebekah has, for a long time, been the most "cautious" of our children. But now there's a new kid in town, a brave kid, and no high dive is safe.
2014-02-13
Bekahism #53 and Ana-ism #24
While watching the Olympics ...
Seth: These guys go down the ice faster than a car. I wouldn't want to do that.
Ana: Why not?
Seth: You could crack your skull. You could break your neck. You could break your back. You could break your leg.
Bekah and Ana (in perfect unison): That's why it's called skeleton!
Seth: These guys go down the ice faster than a car. I wouldn't want to do that.
Ana: Why not?
Seth: You could crack your skull. You could break your neck. You could break your back. You could break your leg.
Bekah and Ana (in perfect unison): That's why it's called skeleton!
2014-02-10
A bedtime story with a happy ending
The other day Miriam asked Seth to tell her a story:
Once there was a princess baby named Winnie. One night after the queen and king put Princess Winnie down to sleep in her royal crib, an invisible dragon came and bit the princess' finger. The biting dragon hurt her, so the princess cried and cried.
First the queen came up and checked to see why Princess Winnie was crying, but she couldn't see anything. Then the king came up and checked to see why Princess Winnie was crying, but he couldn't see anything.
Finally, the queen went up one more time to see why Princess Winnie kept crying and crying. The queen used her magic and was able to see the invisible dragon that was biting the princess' finger. She grabbed the princess out of her royal crib and cried out for the king. The king came with his sword and sliced the dragon off the princess' finger, and Princess Winnie finally stopped crying.
The king used his sword to turn the invisible biting dragon into a friendly dragon, and everyone lived happily ever after.
As wonderful a storyteller Seth is, he borrowed the plot from a real-life experience that happened shortly after Christmas.
We HAD put Winnie to bed. She DID keep crying. Both of us went upstairs to see why she was fussing, because it's unusual for her to carry on so for that long. When each of us went up, all we saw was Winnie with her blankie, her baba and her puppy.
When I went up the last time, Winnie had let go of her puppy, and I could finally tell what was wrong. The ring finger on her left hand was totally blue. The string that made up the dog's mouth had gotten twisted around and around her finger and cut off the circulation. I whisked her from her crib and cried out for Seth. He ran upstairs, saw the problem and immediately rushed back down to retrieve a pair of scissors.
As soon as he cut the string and it unwound from Winnie's finger, the blood rushed back in and turned it a healthy pink.
I shudder to think what would have happened if she had given up and gone to sleep; the poor girl would have only nine fingers.
Seth trimmed all the string off the puppy, and Winnie continues to sleep with it every nap and night.
Once there was a princess baby named Winnie. One night after the queen and king put Princess Winnie down to sleep in her royal crib, an invisible dragon came and bit the princess' finger. The biting dragon hurt her, so the princess cried and cried.
First the queen came up and checked to see why Princess Winnie was crying, but she couldn't see anything. Then the king came up and checked to see why Princess Winnie was crying, but he couldn't see anything.
Finally, the queen went up one more time to see why Princess Winnie kept crying and crying. The queen used her magic and was able to see the invisible dragon that was biting the princess' finger. She grabbed the princess out of her royal crib and cried out for the king. The king came with his sword and sliced the dragon off the princess' finger, and Princess Winnie finally stopped crying.
The king used his sword to turn the invisible biting dragon into a friendly dragon, and everyone lived happily ever after.
As wonderful a storyteller Seth is, he borrowed the plot from a real-life experience that happened shortly after Christmas.
We HAD put Winnie to bed. She DID keep crying. Both of us went upstairs to see why she was fussing, because it's unusual for her to carry on so for that long. When each of us went up, all we saw was Winnie with her blankie, her baba and her puppy.
When I went up the last time, Winnie had let go of her puppy, and I could finally tell what was wrong. The ring finger on her left hand was totally blue. The string that made up the dog's mouth had gotten twisted around and around her finger and cut off the circulation. I whisked her from her crib and cried out for Seth. He ran upstairs, saw the problem and immediately rushed back down to retrieve a pair of scissors.
As soon as he cut the string and it unwound from Winnie's finger, the blood rushed back in and turned it a healthy pink.
I shudder to think what would have happened if she had given up and gone to sleep; the poor girl would have only nine fingers.
Seth trimmed all the string off the puppy, and Winnie continues to sleep with it every nap and night.
The naughty (and now mouthless) puppy.
Winnie with her puppy. Don't worry, she's not crying because of another
puppy bite; she was upset because she had just woken up from a nap and I
put her back in the crib so I could take a picture.
Gwendolen's 15-month stats
Winnie is now more than 16 months old, and I'm just getting around to posting her stats from her check-up. Sigh ...
Height: 30 inches (28th percentile)
Weight: 18 pounds, 12 ounces (15th percentile)
Head: 18.5 inches (82nd percentile)
She's still a shrimp of a thing (I'm waiting for a big growth spurt like Rebekah experienced when she was about 18 months old), but her size doesn't slow her down. She climbs up on everything now, including kitchen chairs and the table.
In fact, the other day when Ana and Miri had pushed kitchen chairs over to the counter to help me make chocolate chip cookies, I heard something being scattered all over and turned around to see Winnie on the now-abandoned chair with the overturned jar of chocolate chips spread across the counter. She was stuffing chocolate chips into her mouth by the fistful.
Winnie's 15-month words:
Height: 30 inches (28th percentile)
Weight: 18 pounds, 12 ounces (15th percentile)
Head: 18.5 inches (82nd percentile)
She's still a shrimp of a thing (I'm waiting for a big growth spurt like Rebekah experienced when she was about 18 months old), but her size doesn't slow her down. She climbs up on everything now, including kitchen chairs and the table.
In fact, the other day when Ana and Miri had pushed kitchen chairs over to the counter to help me make chocolate chip cookies, I heard something being scattered all over and turned around to see Winnie on the now-abandoned chair with the overturned jar of chocolate chips spread across the counter. She was stuffing chocolate chips into her mouth by the fistful.
Winnie's 15-month words:
- Animals sounds (horse, cow, fish, lion, monkey, dog, cat, snake, bee, pig, sheep)
- Mine
- Blankie
- Poopy
- Hi
- Bye-bye
- Night-night
2014-02-06
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