Though Mia has kept me plenty exhausted as she struggles through the worst of her teething woes, it's not as though I can ever really forget just how much my Abigail has grown. There's no denying at all, watching her each day and observing the many things that she is now capable of doing and achieving (and all of the many instances in which she tries- with the very best of intentions- to force her knowledge on her unassuming younger siblings), that she is about to be four years old. Indeed, it's getting harder and harder to believe, or even remember, that she was ever two or three years old at all.
|This is how we Jenga with our brother.|
|Just another teething Monday...|
|Injury of the week: A slight scrape, mystery in origin, made much worse by the indelicacy with which he's treated the scab.|
|This is how we Jenga with our friends.|
Overheard this week:
Singing a little ditty from Frozen: "And I know it's totally crazy to dream I'd find robots..."
"Michael, please stop wiping boogers on me, okay?"
Between Abby and Michael
A: "Michael, are you making a road?"
M: "No. Make house!"
"Hot air balloon, pancake, afraid, medicine."
"George sees door. There's a door."
"I want fire truck."
"Put [me] down!"
"Excava. Say 'excava'!"
"Say 'click.' Take a pic!"
Yes, yes- we do watch too much Dora and Diego around here...