This is ponderous

While I was gone, the vent (that had been hanging precariously for weeks now) fell from the ceiling. Apparently this disturbed Ryanne.

Ryanne: "We needa get da wadder."

Daddy goes to get the ladder and sets it up in the kitchen. Ryanne asks repeatedly to get on the ladder and is denied.

Ryanne: "Daddy, may I tink you?"
Daddy (and Aunt Amy): "What me?"
Ryanne: "May I teenk you?"

Daddy leans down to pick her up because he has no idea what she's talking about. At that point, she reaches out and starts stroking his chin which he has taught her means that he's thinking.

Ryanne: "Daddy may I help you teenk?"
Daddy (choking back laughter): "Sure"

Lesson ensues on how to pronounce "think".

"Wyanne's Max"

Until Aunt Fyoire showed up, RC and I had a ritual. Now, it happens periodically, but since Max has traded us in on someone older and less...in your face...it's not an every day thing, but still happens.

She'd wake up and come into my room. We get in bed and call Max.

(For those of you that don't know, Max is our one boy cat. He's named after the character in Grumpy Old Men because he looks like a grumpy old man. He doesn't like Chrys one shred. We never thought he'd like Ryanne, but he loves to curl up against my pregnant tummy and purr so we knew she'd like him. Likely the same goes for baby brother.)

He'd come out from wherever and mew and whine around for a bit before finally jumping up on the bed. He'd lie down on whatever side Ryanne wasn't and curl up into me to start purring.

She'd crawl over me and put her head on him to listen and tell me, "he's puwwing." He'd take this, as long as I kept scratching him.

Well, now he's less picky about making sure it's not her side. He lets her cuddle him. Moreover, she's claimed him. If she's petting him and I try to get in there, too - "Mommy, no pet Max. Wyanne's Max. I pet him by myself."

Now that he's spending more time in Aunt Fyoire's room so is RC. Doesn't bother me, but I think it's funny that she insists on following him around. At least he puts up with her and I think they might even grow to be friends. He's certainly the most likely, right now, to spend any time near her.

Ryanne's clothes

I finally got off my tush and went through the buckets of RC's old clothes to get the neutral stuff out. Ryanne helped.

We talked about them being Baby Ryanne's clothes. I think she recognized some of them from pictures. She kept telling me she was going to wear them and I always insisted that they were too small for her now.

Eventually, she got upset that I wouldn't let her try one on so I decided not to battle that part. She wanted to wear the little bear jacket that Kity and I got for her. We tugged and pulled and got it on.

The cuffs of the sleeves were above her elbow. Her shoulders were pretty securely held back so she couldn't bring her arms together. The waistline was about chest high.

Nevertheless, she was ecstatic and ran off to show Aunt Fyoire. A couple of minutes later, she runs back into my room almost as upset as she was when I wouldn't let her put something on.

"I STUCK!"

We wrangled the jacket back off of her and she decided she didn't need to try anything else on.

More fun with baby brother

When RC woke from her nap today, she wanted to cuddle so we went to hang out in my bed. The act of lying down made baby brother decide it was time to get all riled up. He was moving all around.

I moved my shirt up a bit and pointed out the bulges and motions to RC. She looked at me perplexed. "Baby brudder going come out." I explained that he wouldn't come out through my stomach; he was just moving around a lot. She watched and watched, with her eyebrows tightly knit together. "Baby brudder moving."

Suddenly, she gets this almost devilish grin on her face and, open palmed, pushes on my stomach where the biggest motions were happening. He kicked right back at her and she bust up laughing. "I push him and he push back." I didn't want to be in the middle of this war so I told her she was right, but she needed to be gentle with mommy, if nothing else. She seemed content with that and went back to watching and laughing at the motions.

Then, she explains to me that, when baby brother comes out, she's going to help him. She's going to walk with him to get the mail and take him to the pond to feed the ducks. She's even going to teach him to dance, "wike dis", which involves waving her hands above her head like a monkey and jumping around. (Yeah, daddy taught her her 'leet dance skillz.) I told her that would be very nice of her and that she's going to have to be patient because it's going to take him a long time to understand what she's teaching. She said that was ok. I think she's going to be a wonderful big sister.

Eating bugs

No, it's not what you think...

Unca D and Aunt MK gave her a book for Christmas. She loves this book. We read it a lot.

Early in the book's lifetime, she decided that the thing to do was to pick the ladybugs (pretend of course) off the page and eat them. We don't know what made her decide to do this. She does it more for Chrys, but I think she picks that book more for him. It's borderline disturbing.

Apparently tonight, she decided that eating the ladybugs wasn't the thing to do anymore. Chrys explained that she now, eagerly, picks their eyes off because they are 'soft and tasty'. Yeah, we crossed that border.

Why you don't share the child's past with the child

Tonight, I was reading a book to RC called "Happy Birth Day!" It talked about what happened after the baby was born - cutting the cord, nursing, lots of sleeping, love, etc.

One of the pages talked about the little band that's put on the child's ankle when he/she is born. Thanks to our recent move, I had just seen RC's and knew it was on Chrys' desk. She was asking about the 'bracewet' so I told her I knew where hers was and asked if she wanted to see it. She did.

I got it from Chrys' desk and showed it to her. She was looking at it and the letters and asking what it said. Next thing I know, she's grabbed the tiny bit of strap that's left when it gets cut to size and showing me how it gets pulled around the ankle...just like in the book. *sigh*

So, now this little memento that we managed to get off of her in one piece is ... many sizes smaller and thanks to security measures (little plastic barbs inside the band) will be [very hard|impossible] to fix. I must confess disappointment.

I can see the original marks. If I get [really bored|desperate] I might be able to get it back to the position it was in when it came off her foot. On the other hand, maybe it's just made it more special that she got to see it and understand what it was at so early an age.

Playmates

Sammy came over tonight for dinner. She and RC were playing out in the backyard. T was out there with them on and off just to make sure that they were ok.

Suddenly all were ushered inside. T reports that RC has been dragging a piece of plastic through one of the resident fire ant hills. Royally ticked ants do not make for a pleasant play space and our yard, unfortunately, is mostly ants right now.

Later he tells me what he witnessed:
Slow dragging across the hills. "I make ants walk."
Faster dragging. *giggle* "I make ants run."
Frantic swishing of the plastic through the ants. *borderline maniacal laugh* "Ants HAPPY!!!!"

Yeah...happy...especially when they manage to find your feet. So much for my lessons to fear the ants.

It's official

We're parents of a little girl.

This morning, Ryanne found some stickers while I was doing dishes. In the past, this wasn't a big deal. She'd usually stick them to interesting places on herself or on a bag or something.

Today, I asked her where they were. She proudly told me she'd stuck them to the trash can.

Yup...little animal stickers all over our new trash can. I couldn't help but laugh.

Glue

Ryanne has used lots of glue sticks at the various story times. She has seen, on rare occasion, me use a tube of lip gloss. Maybe Grandma A has used lipstick in her presence when we're staying there.

One day I went into my bathroom and she had her rubber duckie and one of my tubes of mini-lipstick (like the sample size ones). She proceeded to tell me that she had glued the duck's lips. I was confused.

Then I looked at the duck. Its mouth and neck were covered in lipstick. She was SO proud.