Dadoo & Averie in living room.
Overheard by Mama:
Averie: (Screaming) AHHHHHH! Uhhhhh! Oh No!
Dadoo: (Running out of kitchen) Averie, what's happened?
Averie: Ahhh! Mosquito! Mosquito! Mosquito! Oh no!
Dadoo: Well, that's a mosquito hawk. It's not bad. Remember, we like them.
Averie: Ahhhh! Ahhhh!
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Averie: Did you get it?
Dadoo: No.
Thwack! Thwack!
Averie: Did you get it?
Dadoo: No.
Thwack! Thwack! Bang! Thwack! Thwack!
Averie: Did you get it?
Dadoo: Yes.
Averie: You did?
Dadoo: Yes, Averie. Don't open the door, ok?
Averie: Oh, ok, Dadoo.
. . .
Later, at dinner:
Dadoo: Averie, would you like some cake?
Averie: Oh! Sure! Sure I would. It's in the kitchen. I saw it there. I better go check on it. You stay right here, ok? I'll be right back.
. . .
*Um, yes, it's been awhile. Life, etc. More soon. Well, hopefully.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
. . . blueberries at the park
The park ... a blanket ... some blueberries ... and a pretty girl.
Summer, beautiful.
Summer, beautiful.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
. . . a need for personal space
This morning, at the sink.
Mama is spritzing the girl's curls with detangler, attempting to remove the stickiness leftover from last night's sucker.
Dadoo is wiping banana off the girl's cheeks and chin, leftover from this morning's breakfast.
The girl is wrapped up in her 'beauty cape', struggling against her parents and desperately trying to reach her ladybug toothbrush.
Mama: spritz, sprinz, spray, spray.
Dadoo: wipe, wipe, rub, rub.
Averie, (loudly, in frustration): "No guys! Stop washing me!"
We-the-parents: "Sorry, Averie. Mama and Dadoo are sorry."
Mama is spritzing the girl's curls with detangler, attempting to remove the stickiness leftover from last night's sucker.
Dadoo is wiping banana off the girl's cheeks and chin, leftover from this morning's breakfast.
The girl is wrapped up in her 'beauty cape', struggling against her parents and desperately trying to reach her ladybug toothbrush.
Mama: spritz, sprinz, spray, spray.
Dadoo: wipe, wipe, rub, rub.
Averie, (loudly, in frustration): "No guys! Stop washing me!"
We-the-parents: "Sorry, Averie. Mama and Dadoo are sorry."
Friday, May 8, 2009
. . . 808 days, 5 hours & 15 minutes
That's 2 years, 2 months, 18 days, 5 hours and 15 minutes if you're counting annually.
Time flies. Babies grow. The tiniest girl is so grown-up that she doesn't even flinch when it's time for a shot. She stands a full 36 inches in her chucks and is nearly a bit less than a pound per inch (which just for the record is exactly where she should be according to our incredible pediatrician).
Her sentences take on more words each day. A few evenings ago, she walked over to her Dadoo who was searching under the bed for a flip-flop and matter-of-factly asked, 'What're-ya lookin' at, Dadoo?'
Though she's always talked with us and her favorite pals, she's starting to talk more with people she's less familiar with. She loves puzzles and play-dough and reading and listening to 'pretty music'. She knows how to work the photos on Dadoo's ipod, and she can count to ten (though she doesn't like the the smallest squared prime number).
She knows all her ABC's and mouths the words to many songs, though these days the only ones she'll really sing are the ones she makes up herself. She likes to read herself books, and she loves kissing Remy right on the mouth. He licks her back almost every time.
Some people say she looks a lot like Mama. Some days she does. But every day, her eyes are all Dadoo.
Time flies. Babies grow. The tiniest girl is so grown-up that she doesn't even flinch when it's time for a shot. She stands a full 36 inches in her chucks and is nearly a bit less than a pound per inch (which just for the record is exactly where she should be according to our incredible pediatrician).
Her sentences take on more words each day. A few evenings ago, she walked over to her Dadoo who was searching under the bed for a flip-flop and matter-of-factly asked, 'What're-ya lookin' at, Dadoo?'
Though she's always talked with us and her favorite pals, she's starting to talk more with people she's less familiar with. She loves puzzles and play-dough and reading and listening to 'pretty music'. She knows how to work the photos on Dadoo's ipod, and she can count to ten (though she doesn't like the the smallest squared prime number).
She knows all her ABC's and mouths the words to many songs, though these days the only ones she'll really sing are the ones she makes up herself. She likes to read herself books, and she loves kissing Remy right on the mouth. He licks her back almost every time.
Some people say she looks a lot like Mama. Some days she does. But every day, her eyes are all Dadoo.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
. . . a tomato
La Petite Adorable loves to help Mama in the kitchen. She even has her very own apron so she can prep like a pro. The world's sweetest sous chef always washes the veggies properly so they're ready when it's time for chopping, and Mama was happy when the girl agreed to help out with Good Friday dinner.
Everything was going well. Green pepper washed - check. Red pepper washed - check. Tomato washed- check. Radishes, wa-wait. Where's that tomato?
Mama forgot how much her tiny girl loves tomatoes. Here's what it looked like when she was done.
Tomatoes. Yum.
Everything was going well. Green pepper washed - check. Red pepper washed - check. Tomato washed- check. Radishes, wa-wait. Where's that tomato?
Mama forgot how much her tiny girl loves tomatoes. Here's what it looked like when she was done.
Tomatoes. Yum.
Monday, April 6, 2009
. . . the beach
Barefoot is better at the beach. Even when it's a little chilly. La Petite Adorable had a great time using her bucket and shovel at the beach this weekend, but her favorite part of the day was the minutes she spent throwing sand into the air, into her hair and everywhere. Needless to say, her bath that evening left our tub in much the same condition as the seashore. Very, very sandy.
***Yep. Photo evidence that the dirtiest place in the world is the inside of our daughter's shoes. How her socks get so icky on the bottom is beyond us. And yes, those are the world's cutest Vans courtesy of Auntie Sarah. Get your own copy here.
***Yep. Photo evidence that the dirtiest place in the world is the inside of our daughter's shoes. How her socks get so icky on the bottom is beyond us. And yes, those are the world's cutest Vans courtesy of Auntie Sarah. Get your own copy here.
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