Out of Touch, Into October

NL have started to eat with spoons, though reluctantly. It's a mainly pained affair and prolongs feeding time. Normally, eating slowly is a good thing. But NL's dinners are typically past deadline, and with a bath still on the agenda I prefer to move things along and deposit the youngsters in bed at a sane hour. Back to spoons: Noelle grabs them somewhat askew and more often than not spills their contents onto her bare stomach. Not as eager to catch on, Lucas makes clear his preference for his fist over any utensil.

Relegating table-side etiquette to secondary importance, Lucas instead focuses on physical fitness. His current pastime involves pushing a blue, red, and yellow plastic "Fill & Dump" wagon to all corners of the house. He supports himself on either end and with unwavering determination steers it around toys, under leg bridges, and sometimes directly into an unwary pet's hind side. On a straightaway, he acquires impressive speed before deftly carrying out a three-point turn, soon facing the opposite direction for another go. In addition to the wagon, oversized Lego-like blocks catch the youngster's fancy. He can sit by the pile of the multi-colored pieces and arrange and re-arrange them to suit his imagination. Noelle is less keen on constructing; if she does take interest in them, it's usually to disassemble Lucas's creation.

Jumping around a bit (not the kids, this entry): the kids have certainly carved out their individual tastes in food. Though both go cuckoo for yogurt with fruit chunks and enjoy most fruits and vegetables, only Lucas likes beets, and only Noelle likes meat. One time Noelle had a piece of pickled herring, while Lucas threw his at the pets.

NL exhibit their hijinks in the bathroom, too. After their bath, I attempt to brush their few teeth. Noelle invariably clamps her lips shut, or, if I do manage to get the brush in, bites down, shakes her head, and swings her little arms like an off-kilter windmill. Lucas eases up on me a bit but grows weary fifteen seconds into the cleaning, bringing upon himself a gentle headlock until the job is done.

Sesame Street has emerged as the sure method to calm the family nerves. Big Bird and his(?) affable buddies have yet to displease Lucas and Noelle. The kids exhibit instant wonderment and rapture from the first notes of the opening song clear through the commercial after the end credits. I'm still unsure what it is about the show that fixates those young eyes and ears, and I'll admit without shame that I've starting to succumb to the spell. I'm especially fond of Baby Bear. There, I said it.

Just before, and sometimes in the midst of a toothbrushing, the kids are presented with four to six ounces of diluted apple juice. Golden slumbers just would not come about until the kids are sufficiently hydrated. Predictably, being denied juice while observing the other sucking it down does not sit well, causing turmoil not even Elmo can cure. The deprived party erupts into a scream of protest until handed their own bottle.