It's so funny how the boys go back and forth as to how cooperative they are about helping. O is in a lovely phase as far as being helpful goes. He loves to be given a little job, or to pick something up for me, or to sort the silverware. N, well, at 18 months, N would clean the room up as fast as his brother dumped stuff out, and until recently, he kept his room very neat most of the time. He has an enduring appreciation for tidiness. Cooperation, however, is not so high on his to-do list at the moment, and we have to be a bit firmer to get him to help out than we used to have to be, unless it's something novel. I swear they hide from me to make their plans for taking turns, because that's just how O was until pretty recently.
We talk a lot about how everybody in a family helps keep a family going. That's made for some interesting conversations. Let's see: Mama and Daddy both work, clean, cook, drive, "wash things" and take care of kids. Mama and the boys do the garden and chickens, but "Daddy sometimes lets out the Ladies (hens) and digs". The Ladies poop for us (er, make compost for the garden), and give us tasty eggs. Our black lab guards the hens from hawks, "walks us" and protects us from monsters. Our cat catches mice and keeps our laps warm. I'm sure the boys would feel insulted if I didn't tell you that they make their beds (I know it doesn't look like it, but they try), set and clear the table, wipe the table when asked, pick up their clothes and put them in the hamper, and pick up their toys.
Thankfully, there are things that are both helpful and fun, and both boys are equally enthusiastic about cooking and baking. In fact, they apparently have an "infectious enthusiasm" for those things that has influenced how much of it they do in preschool. They made Stone Soup there the other day (real soup made with a stone, along with all the things that the kids were assigned to bring from home), and Miss Karen was thrilled to let us know that Noah ate four bowls of it. She couldn't believe it.
Above, they're making corn muffins, and then, of course, they need a little distraction until the oven timer goes off.
And now that winter weather has set in, we've gone from spending a whole lot of time in the back yard to spending it on the other side of our stucco exterior, at the kitchen table. Puzzles, games, playdough, drawing, eating, more puzzles....
We did have to get outside to check out the 1-inch snowfall we had, though. The Ladies were a wee bit put out: they were lifting their feet way too high just to be dramatic and bok-bok-bokking with extra fretfulness, if that's possible. Listen, girls: we get eggs, you get heat lamp, got it? Not such a bad deal.
Back to this little guy for a minute. Did you notice anything common to the 1st and the 5th picture? Go ahead, I'll wait.
That's right -it's these:
The bunnies, which are probably in many more pictures within four feet of N. That's because they've been within four feet of N for most of his at-home life. My mom gave each boy one shortly after birth, and N spent his first three years trying to get Ollie to take proper care of his. It was not at all unusual to see a two-year-old N try to hand his brother his bunny, and have O reject it and for N to burst into tears.
About 6 months ago, N finally gave up and took permanent possession of both bunnies, giving him, in effect, twin attachment objects. He carries them around, crooning to them and making the "bunny face". He tucks them lovingly into bed. He confessed to me a while back that he loves to have two so he can have a "new cold one" to cuddle when the other one gets too warm against his skin - which freaked me out, because my entire life, I've had an obsessive habit of turning my pillow over all night long to feel the coolness against my chin.
But I digress. N has, in recent weeks, seemed to be showing some signs of a waning, or at least ambivalent, attachment to his bunnies. He keeps putting them in almost out of reach places, like the edge of the fireplace mantel, or pushed back on the counter, and then losing his resolve and running to rescue them. A couple of times, he's insisted that he doesn't need to sleep with any bunnies, only to come out of his room in a panic. several (no doubt tortured) minutes later.
Then, a couple of days ago, I found this:
Well. Who knew how quickly we could go from beloved to rabbit stew? Break-ups can be so messy.
We think they're still good for something, though:
We've all got a job to do. Even the bunnies.
