A month ago (or more? I think more), when the bebes were getting themselves up on all fours and rocking back and forth, I thought they'd be crawling hands-and-knees-style soon. In a rare instance of synchronicity (these twins rarely seem to have so-called "twin moments"), they both began commando crawling in lock step. Jason said we should re-stage the storming of the beach at Normandy, a la Private Ryan, which we haven't done yet but of course if we do it will a tasteful homage to both the actual historic event and also Steven Spielberg.
They can get anywhere they want. Magnolia is finally learning to push herself up into a sitting position, but Sylvia still has zero interest in sitting up. If you try to prop her up she squiggles down, rolls onto her belly, and roams around the room like a scuba diver, swimming across the room pausing to look with wonder at various things of interest -- the table leg, shoes, and most of all the stereo receiver, which is the most rewarding place of all. Lots of buttons to push. She's still so very teeny - a wiry little bird-boned bouncer with a sweet smile and a lot to chat about. Maggie is solid, extremely delicious, and very, very loud. Changing diapers right now, particularly Sylvie's, is how I imagine it would be to change a diaper of someone riding a gyroscope.
Both girls love to try to push themselves up into a standing-on-all-fours position. Magnolia demonstrates here:
Yesterday they had a bagel. Toothless Sylvia gummed hers politely while Magnolia with her two teeth tore into hers so well that she got a few sizable hunks off (a pity for her since I then took it away). Maggie is working hard on her pincher grip, and given 30 or so cheerios, will get between 1 and 3 in her mouth. As you can imagine, I'm looking forward to a bit more self-feeding.
And Rosemary! On Sunday she and I had a date in Manhattan, meeting friends for pizza and a play. I don't know whether I should repeat the following story, somehow it seems like it doesn't reflect well on anyone. But it made me laugh. The play was a variation on The Frog Prince, performed at a small kids' theater where they do a stellar job of getting the kids involved in the show. So in the story, the princess loses her sparkly golden ball in a well. A frog, total extortionist, pops up and offers to get it for her, but only if she agrees to let him drink from her golden cup, eat from her golden plate, et cetera, et cetera. Steep demands! She refuses in disgust and then, in this play, turns to the kid audience to offer suggestions as to what she should do. One kid suggested diving in on her own, another said to use a tool to get the ball; all good ideas, but the princess said they wouldn't work.
So sweet Rosemary, cuddling a stuffed lion, sticks up her arm and politely waits to be called on, and then says--as if it's absolutely the most logical solution--"I know. Get a bow and arrow, and shoot the frog." The princess deftly replied that she didn't think they needed to take it that far. But then most of those Grimm fairy tales are about retribution. And dance parties with the Prince:
On the Town!:
Ice cream at the Shake Shack, deep in conversation:
At home on her non-school day Monday:
Former Miss Jumperoo jumping with current Miss Jumperoo.
