(Rachel’s heart explodes from sister to brother love overdose)
I’ve been trying to pick yoga back up. I used to do it pretty much every day in college and I want my abs back. Ha (they’re whispering “fat chance” right now).
I have been to yoga 5 times.
Genevieve has pooped during yoga 4 times. The gym babysitters don’t change diapers, so they have to come retrieve me from class to change her.
There are three hours per week where I am trying to do something completely selfish. Three hours.
I’ve determined that she is purposely sabotaging my zen.
And then last week, I spilled a clamshell of blueberries all over the kitchen floor.
Payne heard me curse and came into the kitchen to see what was up.
He yelled “gooberries!” and happily got down on all fours so he could eat them off of the floor like a dog. Then G had to try it out, of course.
I thought about stopping them, but then I thought “I mopped, …this week sometime? We’re good.”
I was trying some fall clothes I had ordered on the kids, and Genevieve was over it. Overrrrrr it. I gave up.
Payne helpfully yelled “But mommy! You didn’t try the pinecone!”
Me: “Huh? What pinecone?”
Payne: “Gee-vive’s dwess! With the pinecone orn it!”.
Me: “She doesn’t have a pinecone dress.”
Payne: “She does!” (Industriously rummages through clothing pile and presents dress with a flourish)
I love him.
He’s been going through a cognitive growth spurt, and the results are pretty hilarious.
The other day he was walking around with Dan’s tape measure, and stopped to measure Genevieve. He held it up to her and said “Hmm, you’re 20. 20 bucks long.”
He told me the other day that he had “Driver’s slices for dwiving my twactor”. I obviously needed to know what he considered his drivers license, so I asked him where it was. He responded “In my tummy. They’re fruit.”
“Driver’s slices.” Ohhhhh….ha!
We went to see some more “dinosaur wobots” this weekend and he was very concerned with ushering around Genevieve and making sure she wasn’t scared.
I love when he gets all protective of her.
On a related note, G has started throwing tantrums in stores that involve sitting down on the floor and refusing to move. I use the classic line of “Ok. Bye bye!” and walking off. Payne DOES NOT APPROVE.
His reaction: “Mommyyyyy! Waaaaiiit! She’s not coming! Don’t leave herrrrrr! Mommy! Doooooon’t! We lost Geeviiiiiiive!”
Gee. Do you think we’re a bit of a spectacle at Target lately?
Due to an unfortunate (or is it fortuitous?) road rash (actually fence rash) placement. If he knew what the heck a Klingon was, he would be THRILLED. P.S. I had to google how to spell Klingon.