James and I are working in the Champaign Family History Center (FHC) tonight. No patrons so far. I've got some time to kill and some thinking to do, so here I blog...
We call him James, James-ee, James-ee-kins, Buster, Mister, Scream-a-piller, Shaymus, Grunty, and (far too often) Robert. The nickname Bogah seems to have fallen by the wayside. I really, really, want the nickname "Tiago" to stick. It's slow in coming, unfortunately.
I dressed James in his snowsuit today and laid him on the floor for a minute. Robert came over and gave his legs a big, brotherly wrestle-hug. James bust out laughing. That made Robert laugh, too, and they played that way for a couple minutes. Robert is just beginning to show interest in James as a playmate
. In many ways, we're all noticing James as a person for the first time. He smiles, he laughs, and he does it in response to what we're doing. He can be entertained by people! It's a beautiful thing.
One thing about James kinda creeps me out, though. Sometimes, when he's really tired and just about to drop off to sleep in my arms, he'll look up at me with those heavy-lidded eyes, break out this enormous smile, and instantly fall asleep. It reminds me of several death scenes in movies and (especially) opera. Did my baby just die in my arms? No. Whew.
He's also a prolific pooper. Both of my other kids would poop once a week. James is on a two-hour cycle, it seems.
After school today, the kids helped me destroy an old piece of furniture so it would fit in our garbage can. Robert had a hammer and free license to smash the heck out of something. He LOVED it...until he bonked himself...twice. After that, we decided to keep it simple with kicking and stomping. Much better. Then the kids pulled out their bikes and played outside together for the first time in a month. Outside play is its own kind of magic. I can't get enough of it. I need it as much as they do.
At dinner, Alice was chowing on the grape tomatoes. I even had to tell her to stop eating vegetables for a while and get in another food group or two.
Then this evening, Alice and Robert rediscovered our squirt bottle. It's filled with water for when the kids want to help us clean windows. They took turns squirting water into their own mouths, laughing and squealing with excitement. Then Robert accidentally shot himself in the neck, which was hilarious, and they took their little squirt-fest into the bathroom. I told them they could squirt themselves as long as they were in the bathtub with the shower curtain drawn. And squirt they did! I had to leave for the FHC and Robert ran out of the bathroom completely covered in water on the frontside (they decided together that one could only squirt oneself) to give me a goodbye hug. Even his giggly kiss on my nose was cold and wet. Then he ran back to the bathroom for more squirting.
The good days with this crazy family are pretty. darn. good.
Well, no patrons have come and we're just over halfway through the shift. James has fallen asleep. I'll blog a little about the chickens before closing the FHC early tonight:
Roo is losing her neck feathers, poor girl, and it's all my fault. I wasn't very diligent about keeping their water supply unfrozen. I was pretty neglectful, actually, and the stress of it triggered her body to begin molting her feathers. Chickens don't normally molt like this until they are 16-18 months old. She's molting 8 months early :( I don't know if the process can be stopped once it's begun. What a TERRIBLE time of year to be losing one's feathers! I haven't seen much of it in the other chickens yet, but there are an awful lot of black feathers lying around for only one chicken to be losing them. I invested in a heated poultry waterer and I'm paying much closer attention to the hens these days. They seem happier with the warmer days this week. We all do :)
My time is up. Thanks for reading.
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