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I do yoga nursie
Casper said this to me last night, as she stood in my lap on one leg. I have a photo, but it's actually too explicit for me to be comfortable posting on the internet, although I wish it wasn't. Huh. I've found a boundary.
It started when Eli's mother was doing yoga, and Eli and Casper would get out our yoga mat and play doing yoga. Then I started laughing about Casper doing yoga when she nursed sometimes, and now she's started calling it that.
I'm amazed by how she picks up on things - rationally, I expect it, the brain is making connections like mad at this age, she's learning to TALK for Pete's sake - but it still amazes me as her mother. For example, we were at Starbucks on Sunday and as we left she started talking about Obadiah The Bold, a book in which the main character (a Nantucket Quaker 6 year old who dreams of being a pirate) is named Obadiah Starbuck. Coincidence?
For some reason, this sentence from Saturday when mr. flea came home is still slaying me: "Look, Daddy! I get new baby!" (I fished out a Corolle baby doll I bought in Paris when I was 16.) It's the tone with which it was delivered - high, squeaky joy.
It started when Eli's mother was doing yoga, and Eli and Casper would get out our yoga mat and play doing yoga. Then I started laughing about Casper doing yoga when she nursed sometimes, and now she's started calling it that.
I'm amazed by how she picks up on things - rationally, I expect it, the brain is making connections like mad at this age, she's learning to TALK for Pete's sake - but it still amazes me as her mother. For example, we were at Starbucks on Sunday and as we left she started talking about Obadiah The Bold, a book in which the main character (a Nantucket Quaker 6 year old who dreams of being a pirate) is named Obadiah Starbuck. Coincidence?
For some reason, this sentence from Saturday when mr. flea came home is still slaying me: "Look, Daddy! I get new baby!" (I fished out a Corolle baby doll I bought in Paris when I was 16.) It's the tone with which it was delivered - high, squeaky joy.
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This morning, however, she decided she wasn't a big girl, she was a baby. I think it was because we were running insanely late so she didn't get to nurse until we got to the sitter's, and she probably was too tired to walk because, hello, she just woke up. But she insisted she was a baby, despite how she has teeth, and she has hair, and she talks, and walks, and runs, and uses a fork to eat waffles.
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