My children

Though a bum computer has made it a painstaking chore to upload photos to the blog (I am now on my work laptop), I feel compelled to at least jot a few notes about how great my kids are these days. Their innocent little demeanors, their earnest feelings front and center, their wacky insights and questions and wardrobe selections, their total joie de vivre all still feel so fresh and rare. It is a spectacular thing to have two small people so attentive to you, so reliant on you, so connected and always wanting to be with you, near you, doing what you do, understanding who you are. It's like I need to bottle up a little of this magic before they become sullen, disinterested teens hidden behind black eyeliner...

Reed just wrapped up his second year at Towson Presbyterian, and he did so sweetly and politely and with hugs and smiles and coy gifts for his teachers. He started with trepidation this year (some tears, as I recall) and finished like a pro; I suspect this will be the case for many school years to come. Sometime around April he finally decides this school thing is actually pretty fun...and then the year comes to an end.

He is still intensely fascinated with animals, musical instruments (lately fancies himself a hip hop DJ on his keyboard with headphones), and animals playing musical instruments. He draws constantly, and pretty well: creatures, clowns, ninjas, knights, musicians, dinosaurs, made-up stuff. I took him to an art class at the Walters this weekend where he learned about "imaginary beasts" and was delighted by the room of exotic animals in the museum (Dad, a narwhal horn!). He still sucks his thumb, loves to snuggle, and when I say "sweet dreams" each night he says, "I hope you have sweet dreams, too." It is a feat when we can get him to stay in bed past 6:30AM. He loves banging on things along with our builders working on the addition, and sometimes comes down in his own hard hat and tool belt to greet them. The kids wave and say hello to Hal Miller and his crew each day, bringing popsicles out on hot days.

The pool opened recently and Reed and Scarlett both have been little fish. Reed enjoys putting on his neon green goggles and gliding along face-down in the little pool, reaching down for toy missiles on the bottom. He loves playing "birthday package" in the big pool, doing push-offs and doggie-paddling out to me so that I can open my package only to discover it's "moldy meatballs" or "tortoise guts" and returning it immediately to sender (the wall). In between paddles and his frenetic attempt to keep his head above water, he chortles and is draped in a giant chlorinated grin.

Scarlett, meanwhile, showed no fear as she clambered up the many steps of the pool's water slide last weekend and swooshed down twice. The first time was a total riot. The second time she got a mouthful of water and decided that wasn't for her anymore. Still, she's done it two more times than her older brother has. She wants whatever he wants, and the two of them are great companions (building forts together, watching Dora and Diego together, sharing a snack), but she knows exactly how to push his buttons and can bring him to tears in a split second. She talks all the time, and loudly to make sure she's heard. She wants everyone to know that she is "the princess," no, "the little sweet baby," no, "the big girl," no, "so cute!" She clods around in way-too-big plastic princess heels, announcing that Sleeping Beauty is her favorite because she is purple, but that Scarlett is wearing Belle big girl underwear today.

I call her my "Wump," which started because she loves it when I throw her on the bed and say, "whhhhump!" She'll say, "Mommy calls me LaLa, Gram calls me Lulu, and Daddy calls me The Wump." Potty training has been a breeze with her; she rarely has an accident and is out of diapers most of the time these days. Prizes of Pez or M&Ms go a long way. She's ticklish and very petite, a little ball of snickers and giggles after a bath where I pretend to be drying off my bowling ball under the towel.

Sometimes when I head upstairs to get them ready for bed, she'll rush to the top and shut the gate, saying: "You can't come upstairs unless you solve my riddle." She goes on, "What's pink and lives on the farm?" And before you can respond, she's belting out the answer. Same riddle every time, and she is generous enough to let me through even when I can't figure it out. They love playing in the bath and demand that I do silly voices and let them waterslide off the back lip of the tub (which Mom hates). And they can't get enough of dance parties: samba, rock, kids music, Dad's music, hip hop, you name it. Best of all, Scarlett still likes to waltz around in my arms to our tune of "Da da dee, da da dee, da da dee..." This makes me very happy.