Freeze-Frame: Chocolate Imposter. Thunder Chaser.

A friend invited us to visit her out in Bainbridge today. While we were in town I stopped in at Pine Ridge Grocery to buy something for an upcoming birthday gift (plus Pine Ridge is an old haunt populated with old friends from my teaching days). As we were headed to the checkout, I saw my little boys gawking at the wall of candy we were passing. On a whim, I picked up a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels for the little gawkers to enjoy on the way home.

Hugged friends. Paid for my stuff. Trundled the kids out to the van. Drove off. Fed chocolate-covered pretzels to the baby birds.

About halfway home after a lull in the normal van chatter, I hear a very irritated Peregrine Luke grunting from the back (and it was ten times better in his lisping little voice), "Opps! {he can't pronounce the f sound, so "off" is "opps"} Choc'ate OPPS!!! Won't come OPPS!!!!!" 

I turned to see him vigorously rubbing the chocolate colored mole on his knee (the one that's been there since before he turned a year old). 

Darn thing wouldn't budge.

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Rundy and I talked about the kids for a while last night before bed. Pippin is so wonderfully...Pippin (I mean, that's not verbatim from our conversation but that's essentially what it ended up amounting to). This snippet from two nights ago when it thunderstormed is quintessential Pip. 

Rundy was home. It was just about the boys' bedtime, but a thunderstorm was rolling in. We headed out onto the porch to enjoy it. I use the term "enjoy" loosely, as both boys in the past (but especially Pippin, currently) have a complicated relationship with thunderstorms. Rundy, Tadhg, and I were just settling on the porch swing when Pip dashed (? "dashed" is too agile a term to use with Pippin; I would say "galumphed," but that's not quite right, either; just imagine something halfway between a dash and a galumph and you'll be just about right) into the house. 

He returned to the porch armed with a rubberband and a fierce expression.

"Kill thunder!!!" he intoned boldly.

And he proceeded to do so.

Repeatedly.

Until he lost his courage, climbed into Daddy's lap, and said, "Go inside. Scaredy."

Six Months with Our Marnie

The sweetest little bug, and world-class in the art of marshmallow fluffery.

Marnie is quiet and laidback and decidedly a Mama's girl (for now, at least). Everything about her is soft; her teeny-tiny chub rolls, her coos, her giggles. Both of her brothers have found their own ways to make her laugh. She loves to snuggle. She loves to feel loved. She loves to be held. She loves to eat real food. Marnie still has little interest in learning how to move. She sits up only with help and is still largely content to observe the world and engage with whatever is within reach. 

At her latest appointment, we found out that wee girl still has a heart murmur. I suspect--maybe wrongly, maybe not--that she may have a few diagnosable things going on physically (God willing nothing too serious). Echocardiogram just got scheduled for August, so hopefully we'll be able to see what's going on in that little heart of hers and go from there. 

In all these good days we've been given and in all the ones yet to come, we soak her up. 

God has made you well, Marnie Moo.

Photobomber. (The other photobomber was busy playing.)

Favorite outtake:

Freeze-Frame: I Like to Hear Him Talk

This is a short one, but it made me chuckle. I've found Tadhg's rapidly burgeoning vocabulary delightfully amusing. I wore a new shirt this morning, a hand-me-down from my sister. It smells like laundry detergent, a different scent from what we use. 

"I like your beautiful shirt with flowers on it, Mommy. It smells very distinctive."