Vignette #1: Seriously Scary Foliage
Perhaps you might remember how Julianna deals with things that scare her. Yesterday at the park, we had all retired to the shade of a stone wall beneath a low maple tree, whose swooping branches created a dark, enclosed spot. Nicholas had been giving me trouble about nursing under the cover, so I retreated to this “secret room” to nurse, so I wouldn’t have to use the cover. Julianna sat on the ground for a while, entertaining herself with wood chips and the stroller tires. Then the movement of the sun-dappled branches above her head caught her eye, and she started grunting and pointing, trying to get my attention.
They were about a foot out of her reach, and I thought she wanted to touch them. So I leaned forward and pulled them down beside her. The trouble was, I was sitting behind her, and she didn’t see me pulling them down. She just saw this big green monster attacking her.
“AAAEAAAAAAAAAAH!” she shrieked—once again, fists clenched, chin jutted out, and I realized what I had done. Poor Nicholas had to lie down on the wood chips so I could gather her up (laughing) and snuggle and comfort her. She wanted nothing whatsoever to do with those lovely maple branches after that, at least not until I picked a single leaf off. She could handle a single leaf. She carried it all the way home. Very cute. But you really had to be there.
Vignette #2: Night Crawler
It was like something out of “Chicken Heart.”
Nicholas woke up at about 2:15 this morning to nurse. When I went in to pick him up, Julianna stirred, but she didn’t make any noise, so I figured she would go right back down, and I didn’t talk to her; I just took Nicholas back to our room to nurse.
No sooner had we latched than I heard, in the quiet house, THUMP.
I knew perfectly well that Julianna was crawling out of her room and down the hall to ours, which was dimly-lit and thus a beacon in the dark house. But it really sounded like a horror movie. I couldn’t decide whether to giggle or scream.
She must be pushing a book across the room, I thought. “Christian,” I said, “Julianna’s out of bed.”
“Mmmm,” he mumbled, and stretched awake. “Okay, hang on.” He hauled himself out of bed and went into the bathroom.
THUMP—sssshhhhhhh. THUMP—sssshhhhhhh. THUMP—sssshhhhhhh. THUMP—sssshhhhhhh. THUMP—sssshhhhhhh.
“Julianna?” I said, to break the creepy mood.
“Uh,” she said. THUMP—sssshhhhhhh.
At last, she poked her head around the corner. “Heh-heh,” she said, grinning.
“Daddy will be here in a minute, honey,” I said.
“Uh!” She signed “Daddy.”
Christian came out of the bathroom. “Hello, little girl…”
And furiously she began signing, MUSIC! MUSIC! MUSIC!
Christian and I both cracked up. “No Julianna, we’re not playing any music. It’s two o’clock in the morning!” he said, and scooped her up to change her diaper.
Nothing quite like those moments.
Random Tidbit #3:
Would you believe me if I said within six weeks, Nicholas will be wearing the same size diaper as Julianna?
When using cloth, this is slightly problematic. It means we have to buy extras!