The good, the bad, the ugly

This has been my day.

The Ugly
What is it about 2 1/2 year olds that forces us to resist the urge to be so very immature? As I sat in the recliner trying to feed Meg and get her to sleep, Logan decided to help himself to some water from my big plastic cup. In attempt to pour more water into the cup from a nearby water bottle he managed to create a few little puddles on the placemat left on the coffee table from this morning's art projects.

Knowing it was merely an accident, I said simply, "Logan, just do me a favor and move my magazine so you don't get it wet."

With that he lifted the water bottle up high above my magazine. He looked right at me and then turned it upside in a move that would have saturated the magazine if the bottle still had more than a few drops of water left in it. I siftly plopped Megs in the Pack-n-Play so I could grab both cup and bottle from the 2-year-old imp's hands.

He screamed. He stomped. He balled up his fists and yelled as he dug them into his hips. I in turn carried him to his room for a time out. He sat on his bed and cried "But why you put me in here? It's funny! It's funny to wet your book!" And he laughed.

"Its not funny." I said back. "You can ruin books if you get them wet." I no longer cared to clarify we were only talking about my magazine here because there were bigger issues at play. Then for good measure I tossed in "You wouldn't want your books to get ruined would you?"

"No!" he said a bit alarmed. "But it funny to ruin your book."

It took all I had in me to not snatch a magazine he'd been "reading" earlier and tear a page out of it as I said, "There. Is that funny?"

The bad
Megan is cranky today. I'm sure her little legs are a bit sore from her shots yesterday - she's got a small bruise from where she jerked herself out of our grasp while getting the last needle. Poor kid. She goes through stretches today (and yesterday afternoon) where's she's her normal sunny self. Then she cries and cranks. She won't tolerate being put down. Everything that normally amuses her only irritates her. Her activity quilt? Ticks her off. Her swing? Makes her scream. Her pack-in-play? Only good for enough time for me to get to the bathroom, but not long enough to use it.

This makes it harder to keep the imp from acting out because I can't put her down long enough to focus on him. If we're going to do puzzles we do them while she sits on my lap. If we're going to have lunch we do it while she screams because I can't hold her and cook grilled cheese at the same time. If we're going to have a picnic my magazine gets wet because he's had enough of me sitting in a chair trying to rock his sister to silence. Luckily today was sleep-over at Grandma and Papa's night. The weather here stinks. It was starting to snow a few hours back after raining hard all morning. Grandma came early to pick up Logan - she arrived just a half hour after Megan finally fell asleep. She remains asleep on my shoulder while I type. Putting her down will merely wake her up. So I sit with her - and my shoulders and my neck and my wrists all ache from a day of carrying nearly 15 lbs of squirmy baby.

The Good
Amongst all the cranking and the cruddy weather we had a bit of sunshine in our house. Released from his room, Logan decided to climb my leg and sit on half my lap while asking the usual post-tantrum question "Mommy? Are you happy now?"

Meg sat on the other leg, silent yet awake. She turned her head at the sound of her big brother's voice and she stared at him. Then she started to babble in his direction. She repeated her new set of sounds - a series of growls, grunts, groans and coos, mixed with a few spit bubbles for good measure.

"Look Lo!" I said to him, using the nickname I usually reserve for teasing him with when he decides to call me Mom not the usual Mommy. "Look! She's looking at you. She's trying to talk to you!"

He smiled. He loves when she focuses in on him. He climbed down and moved himself directly in front her - and she kept her eyes locked on him as her head turned to keep him in her view. She babbled at him some more.

"Where's my smile?" he asked her, picking up something he's heard Grandma ask Megan before. "Where is my smile? Come on Meggie. Smile. You can do it! Smile!"

And Meg babbled back.

"We're friends. You and me are friends," he said as he poked his index finger into her shoulder on "you" and then his own shoulder on "me." And Meg babbled back.

He leaned back a bit, then dove in close to her face yelling "GAH GAH GOO!"

At first she startled and then she laughed. Oh how Meg laughed. She did that whole full-face laugh where her eyes squint shut and her smile spreads from ear to ear with her pudgy cheeks emphasized.

He laughed in return and then he did it again. And she laughed again. On and on it went for at least twenty minutes and that has to be one of the most wonderful twenty minutes I've ever had. I know they'll fight. I know they'll take turns being jealous of each other or annoyed by one another, but I've also hoped that they'd love each other and be friends - and at least for today they did and they were.

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