Sam seems like she’s turning some kind of corner with the whole willfulness thing. She’s still strong willed (and, for the record, I don’t think such a trait is actually a bad thing all considered), but she has mellowed out a bit and directed her thirst for independence differently. This morning, for example, she came down from her bedroom looking fully dressed and especially pleased. She had, she said, dressed herself! Except she couldn’t quite button her pants. Because they were tight. Because she was still wearing her pajamas. Underneath them. I pointed this out to her and she seemed substantially crestfallen over my criticism, yet insisted on setting it right without my help. Eventually she did, and proper accolades were heaped upon her.
Sam also seems to be seeking new outlets for her attitude, as evinced by her exclaiming “Buh!” after every answer to a question she thinks we should know the answer to, such as “What do you want for breakfast?” (“Pancakes, buh!”) or “Sammy, where did you put Mandy?” (“The cabinet, buh!”). This is somewhat amusing since she apparently thinks she’s saying “Duh!” and we don’t see the point in correcting her. It’s easier to get the last laugh on her this way.
Mandy is doing quite well, except that she was a little, well, slow moving in the gastro… pipe area. Okay, she was constipated. Following the advice offered by her pediatrician after a brief phone call (I would love, by the way, to hear all the ways that different parents ease into this question in a clinical and professional way worthy of a patient-doctor relationship), Geralyn ordered me to prepare a concoction consisting of the following:
- One part barley cereal
- One part dark corn syrup
- One part pureed prunes
- One part grape juice
I was to prepare this goop under the light of a full moon, feed it our child, and then stand back. FAR back. Mandy actually loved it, which shouldn’t be surprising, since 3/4 of those ingredients are sweet enough on their own, and combined they created some kind of super Voltron-like baby treat. As to its effectiveness, let’s just say it WORKED and leave it at that. Mandy has been much more relaxed since that feeding.
The pictures from this week are kind of fun. It’s been one hoojillion degrees outside for the last week or so, which means that Sam’s outdoor playtime has been somewhat limited. What we do let her do, though, is play in the sprinklers all she wants. This is easy work for me, since I just get to stand there and the lawn really needed to be watered anyway. It seems that playing in the sprinklers is some kind of American tradition, going back a few generations now. I remember doing it as a kid, though my mother also somehow got the idea that instead of a swimming pool she could just fill up two garbage cans –the old round, metal kind– with the hose and plunk me and my sister down into them. It probably had the side benefit of cleaning the cans out, plus I loved it until I ran my hand along the jagged inside lip of the can and opened a huge gash in my palm. And then of course I couldn’t climb out of the can with just one hand, so I sloshed around until I tipped the thing over and it dumped me onto the lawn and almost drowned me. I’m serious, I have a VERY vivid memory of this. Good times, sure, but I think Sam and Mandy can just stick to the sprinklers.
We also had a fun photo shoot on Sunday afternoon where Sam half-heartedly played the role of my assistant by holding up a gray card. She didn’t hold it very still, or for very long or even in the right place before walking out on the job, but it’s a start. She got much more into it once I started taking pictures, gracing us with her glamor shot and a sweet pose with Mandy. Also, this is my new favorite shot of Mandy.