File this under "Things That are Awesome"

Picked up the Hatchling from her second day of preschool this morning (verdict: still loving it), and as soon as the Sprout saw her big sister, her face totally lit up with a HUGE grin. Then they spend virtually the entire ride home just looking at each other and laughing, while the Hatchling kept saying, "I so glad to know you're here!"

Hoo. That's the good stuff. Now here are some cute pictures:

The First Day of School


She just at a lot of cookie dough. Sugar high?


I find that having two small girls on the counter is a real aid to cookie-baking


Here's a little video of the Sprout in her bouncing contraption. MAN, I wish they made these for adults.

There are good moments

Today, I was changing the Sprout's diaper and the Hatchling came up behind me to watch.

"Oh. POOOOP," she observed knowledgeably.

"Yep, I'm changing the baby's diaper. Gotta get that poop off her butt."

The Hatchling patted me on the back approvingly, and then asked, "Scwatchy back?"

"Sure!" I said, "I love having my back scratched."

A brief but pleasurable back scratching occurred; then the Hatchling noticed the Sprout's old diaper, wrapped up and sitting on the arm of the sofa.

"Oh! I take-a diaper, frow in garbage," she said helpfully, and proceeded to do just that.

"Thank you, honey!" I said, "that was very, very helpful!"

"OK," the Hatchling said. You know, like: no big deal, mom.

Those big-sister instincts are definitely kicking in.

I don't think I even want to know

So Mr. Squab and I are discussing the weekend plans, and I suggest that we ask BFF about watching the Hatchling on Saturday so Mr. Squab and I can go out somewhere to celebrate our anniversary (six years on Sunday!).

"It's already taken care of," Mr. Squab says smugly.

"Oh really?" I'm intrigued. "Is there anything I should prepare for?"

"Hmmm ..." Mr. Squab thinks for a minute. "Don't wear any underwear."

I snort. "Uh-huh."

"And bring a snake-bite kit."

How to Charm Me

Grab my left arm while I'm changing your diaper, hug it with all your might, and say "nice."

(And yes, this post is referring to the Hatchling.)

The Supremes to my Diana

Things that are not fun: going to the MOA this evening to buy Mr. Squab some much-needed shoes with an extremely crank-ass toddler in tow. She didn't want to be carried, no she DID want to be carried WHY AREN'T YOU CARRYING HER? Just let her run in the shoe aisles, that's all she ever wanted to do, except the shoe aisles SUCK, Jesus Christ just let her out into the MALL, ok fine, then, she will just sit on the floor and cry. Now are you happy?

This behavior lasted right up until we'd gotten the check for our hastily consumed supper, at which point the Hatchling decided all she needed in this world was a ballpoint pen and the receipt to draw on, and happily spent about 10 minutes intensely scribbling on the tiny piece of paper. Because by that point, of course, we were too exhausted to make her stop before she was ready. ("Boo boo, are you ready to go?" "NO." Scribble, scribble, scribble. "Do you want to go home and see the kitties?" "Nononono.")

When we were finally back in the car, nothing would do but that Mama had to sing songs all the way home. Mama, of course, is still getting over her stinky cold and has a dry hacking cough that makes repeated renditions of "I've Been Working on the Railroad" (a perennial favorite) somewhat trying. So Mr. Squab decided to "help" by providing some back up singing/commentary that did indeed add a little je ne sais quoi to the ditty. See for yourself:

I've been working on the railroad (toot! toot! toot!)
All the livelong day (clank! clank!)
I've been working on the railroad
Just to pass the time away (pass the time!)
Can't you hear the whistle blowing? (toot! toot! toot!)
Rise up so early in the morn! (Man, it's early!)
Can't you hear the captain calling: (whoo! woo!)
Dinah, blow your horn! (Blow it, Dinah!)

Dinah won't you blow, (blow!)
Dinah won't you blow, (blow!)
Dinah won't you blow your horn? (toot!)
Dinah won't you blow, (come on!)
Dinah won't you blow, (pretty please?)
Dinah won't you blow your horn? (blow it goooood.)

Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah (who is it?)
Someone's in the kitchen I know-oh-oh-oh (who can it be?)
Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah (but who?)
Strumming on the old banjo, and singing
Fee, fie, fiddly-eye-oh (that's a weird song)
Fee fie fiddly-eye oh-oh-oh-oh (seriously, that's weird)
Fee, fie, fiddly-eye-oh (why not use words?)
Strumming on the old banjo. (WHO ARE YOU?!?!)

It's kind of hard to sing when you're having a fit of the giggles, I tell you what.

The Good Stuff

This evening, the Hatchling came over to the sofa, snuggled up to my left side, took my right hand and put it over her tummy, and then held that hand in both of her little chubby ones. Then she leaned back and crossed her ankles, perfectly positioned to watch a little evening telly. (We're partial to Seinfeld.)

So, that's pretty nice.

Foolish Parental Bragging Post

As a rule, I try to avoid posts along the lines of "my kid is such a GENIUS" because, a) they're flipping annoying, and b) they're oh so rarely true. I adore the Hatchling, but her talents and skills, precious though they are to my eyes, are really about the same as any other toddler her age. This I know. This is good.

Now having said that, OMG I have to tell you what she just did this morning. She's wandering around the living room, checking out her favorite spots and toys, and she comes over for a brief snuggle. I notice that her diaper is sagging off her butt in a manner that indicates it's reached its capacity for fluid absorption. I give the Hatchling a squeeze and say, "Should we change your diaper, honey? It looks like it's about time." And before I can make any moves in that direction, the Hatchling matter-of-factly toddles over to the coffee table, pulls out the basket where we keep her changing supplies, reaches in for the changing pad, and hands it to me.

FOURTEEN MONTHS OLD, YO.

Ooooooh, what a smart baby.

What I Like

... is baristas who call me "love." As in, "what can I get for you today, love?" or "Oh, sorry, love, I don't think we have any more of that muffin."

Just makes the process feel a little more human.

How to Charm Me

While giving me a back rub, ask me if I love you, and when I say "I'd love you MORE if you made me some hot chocolate" go into the kitchen and make me some! I was joking! But it was good!

Oooh, sometimes it's so nice to be spoiled.

It all balances out in the end

How to Charm Me:
Sleep for 11.5 hours straight through the night. Oh, sweet sleep. Oh, good baby.

How to Irritate the Crap Out of Me:
Sleep an unprecedented 11.5 hours straight through the night, causing me to waken numerous times in absolute certainty that you had died in your sleep and we'd never get to try on all those cute toddler outfits we got, not to mention that I leaked QUARTS of breastmilk all over my pajamas, my side of the bed, and the cat. Oh, engorged boobs. Oh, painful ta-tas.

How to make me giggle like a 14-year-old boy

When talking about certain home improvements in the bathroom, take generous advantage of the caulk/cock homophone, as in "Yeah, I'm gonna give that tub some caulk. Gonna fill all its crevices with my thick, white caulk. It's gonna get all the caulk it can handle, uh-huh. Ima squeeze my caulk out all OVER that tub."

And so forth.

How to Charm Me

Look back at me, bleary-eyed on the sofa as you're leaving in the morning, and say, sympathetically, "Have a good day at work."

Ain't he cute?

The Hatchling's adoring aunt has taken her for the evening so that Mr. Squab and I are free to do some much needed cleaning. (I've been longing to get some cleaning done, a statement which probably just made my mother fall off her chair. Suffice it to say that if I'm looking forward to cleaning, the situation is truly dire.) About 10 minutes after they've left:

Mr. Squab: Goddammit!

Me: What's wrong?

Mr. Squab (holding some of the Hatchling's clothes): These are so damn cute. Man. (frowns)

Me: Miss her?

Mr. Squab: Yes! I shouldn't. There's no reason to, but I do! Why is that?

Squab: Um, because she's so damn cute?

Mr. Squab: She makes me so frustrated sometimes when she's here, but as soon as she's gone I want her back.

Squab: I think that's called being a parent.

How to Charm Me

Scream bloody murder while I'm changing your diaper, pee all over me, the outfit we just put on you, and the changing pad, and then give me the biggest, widest grin EVER, along with two "coos."

Little bugger.

How to Charm Me

Sing a little freestyle ditty to the Hatchling whenever you feed her a supplemental bottle.* The ditty goes something like, "It's nummy time, nummy time, nummy-nummy-tummy time/and you're such a good girl to drink your bottle/here we go, let's drink it up!"

Seriously, what's cuter than that?

* For full cuteness appreciation, it helps to know that Mr. Squab is 6' 4" and large of frame - so, approximately 8 bajillion times bigger than the Hatchling.

How to Charm Me

Paint my toenails for me when it's clear that there is literally no position in which I can reach my own feet. (I'm sorry I laughed at your technique.)

How to Charm Me

Surprise me with a bouquet of roses, a DVD for me (Wallace and Gromit!), and a cute little baby hat for Hoss (with ears!) for Valentine's day.

Thank god I'd gotten you a box of chocolates, or I'd have totally lost face.

Yet more evidence that I have married The Right Man

Mr. Squab, on seeing that I've put my newly long hair back into pigtails, of which he is particularly fond:

"Hey, baby, wanna Punky my Brewster?"

Best. Come On. EVER.

How to Charm Me

Drive my ass to work at the butt-crack of dawn, even though you have the day off and could be sleeping in. That is love.

How to charm me

Leave the house before me this morning, ostensibly because you want to get to work earlier, only to clean all the 2-day old snow and ice off my windshields before you go.