giant armadillo

Yup.  It's a giant armadillo.

butterfly day

Our local Natural History Museum, one of our favorite places in town, came up with a clever fundraiser last year: a butterfly release!  This year -- the first time we've participated -- each child got a paper sleeve containing a butterfly (which had apparently been kept at a low enough temperature to make them semi-dormant) to send into the gardens and trees around the building.  Even though some of the children seemed a little hesitant (Casper & Greta) or disinterested (Linus) at the beginning of the process, each was thrilled to watch the butterflies flash their wings and fly off -- after spending a moment on a finger or shoulder.

big cat

This is Gwennie at the local Natural History Museum, thinking how great it would be to be a big cat.  Or any cat, really.

entre renard et loup

This is Linus at the local Museum of Natural History, looking rather more intense than the fun-loving wolf leaping up behind him.

curl-less

Six months ago, I posted an image of this girl in front of this window with a beautiful corona of curls at the nape of her neck.  The curls are now gone, sadly.  The reason is not due to the decline of Texas humidity (also sadly) or even to an ill-conceived haircut.  It's actually Margaret, who has developed the habit of pulling at the back of her hair while she relaxes with her loveys (Cocoa the Bear and Dot the Dog, made by her Auntie Shawna and gifted by Auntie Melissa).

We actually discovered that for a time she was eating the hair that she was pulling out, but I think that's a practice of the past.  In any case, the wilds have been tamed.  She's no less cute than she was, but maybe she's a little less cute than she would have been.

delectability of deliciousness

You can't accuse this boy of not enjoying his food.  He is, by nature, a hand-eater (meaning that we often have to remind him to use his utensils), but it may be the fact that he enjoys the tactile qualities of his meals as much as their taste.  Or maybe he just doesn't mind wearing his lunch.

(Incidentally, at a recent church function, I saw our Bishop eating a cupcake by tearing it in half  and putting the frosting in the center of the cake.  I found this pretty revolutionary -- the fact that I've lived forty years on this planet and never discovered this solution to the inherent flaw of the cupcake, which is that it's the wrong shape for human mouths, leaving frosting to inevitably smear all over your mouth -- and discovered that I'm not the only person to feel this way.  I attended a party for a colleague this afternoon, and when I tried the trick for the first time, another friend yelled "whoa" from across the room, shutting down any number of sober and academic conversations and leaving me to proselytize for the approach.)

quartet

Girls in pastels, boys in stripes.  (Since they dressed themselves -- except for Margaret, who was not clothed in consultation with Gwennie -- we can't be held responsible for this appearance of organization.)

cheeky

This is the look I get when I ask Greta to leave what she's doing and come to join the rest of the family. She gives me this little grin, then turns back to whatever she's playing with.  I suppose I should take some consolation in the fact that she acknowledges me, and that she's not malicious in her decision to disregard me.  It's just that I'm much less interesting than what she's involved in.  And sass is its own reward, after all.

Jen, starting to cut into a watermelon: "Greta, do you know what this is?"
Greta: "Egg?"

Greta, upon seeing a picture of her mother pregnant with Linus: "Mama. Apple."

1 - 2 - 3 - 4, I declare

And fortunately, Gwennie was able to find something to do while the cub scouts were derbying it up . . . a rousing round of thumb war.  Apparently, she and Emma were so proficient in their digit battles that they gathered an audience.

a boy and his rocket

to Jupiter and beyond

As our new cub scout, Linus is enjoying many of the programs for the first time.  It turns out that the first "construction race" he's gotten to do is the notorious space derby (which I still remember from my youth with some bitterness).  We didn't receive his kit until Sunday, and it was Tuesday before we really started getting the rocket together.  Linus ended up with a pretty sharp entry, though -- especially with his attentive paint job.  And although the races weren't competitive (thankfully), he had a winning rocket until his inattentive father over-wound its propeller, busting the rubber bands.

The winning rocket, at bottom right

birthmark

Margaret has a couple of birthmarks on her legs, including a fairly intricate one on her right thigh.  Jennifer's convinced that it's going to lighten and disappear in a few years, and she's already lamenting that.  This is the difficulty with a (likely) last child -- every stage and milestone seems so final when it passes.  Well, it doesn't matter to Greta.  Apparently she doesn't have any problem showing some leg, given the way she's hiking up her shorts there.

foyer game

We were at the church for a mid-week event when I went to look for Casper, who had crept away from the family and the program.  I found him with with a friend (the very popular three-year-old James), playing a game of his invention in which he'd run between the exterior doors and the foyer, then leap up on the wall.  I was able to sneak a few shots while he was absorbed -- before he caught me watching.

two sisters

Margaret is entirely in love with Gwendolyn.  She's fascinated by her big sister, and follows her around endlessly.  Gwennie, in turn, is very good with her baby sister, patient and supportive.  From a parental perspective, it's unusual to have this degree of help with an infant -- it feels like a luxury, almost like we're getting away with something.  Essentially, it feels like the parent-to-baby ratio is three-to-one, which makes things easier for all of us.  (Best of all, Greta can get charged up to see the other two of us after she's been playing with whoever's on duty.)

swimming whole

For obvious reasons, our best purchase of the summer was this inflatable backyard pool.  (The second best purchase?  Probably the pack of goggles.)  When it's not full of water (and children), the pool lives on the trampoline.  Otherwise, it's full of splashes and joy.

candy paste

It may be because she loves to do all the things her sister and brothers do (though I think it's probably more that she likes the flavor), but Margaret has  recently been clamoring for her toothbrush.  Throughout the day, she'll go into the bathroom and pull any brush that's nearby, then beg anyone to get some paste on it for her. (Most of the time, we just let her brush her teeth without the added Goofy Grape or Silly Strawberry, and she's happy enough with that.)

up high

Casper's always had a thing with heights.  He's very cautious about climbing, and has never liked being held up, especially when he feels unstable.  (He's quite frank about it now, and will tell you that he's afraid of falling, but it was noticeable even when he was an infant.)  This is about as wild as he gets -- climbing to the porch roof of the Navarro, then leaping off.  Is that a look of satisfaction or relief, once he's back on the ground?

To be fair, he did stick the landing.

'aff

This giraffe costume was once intended as a Halloween costume for Gwendolyn, though it never had the honor.  It has become a little-used part of our dress-up drawer, partially because it's so heavy and uncomfortable -- though it's soft enough on the surface, the inside is hot and scratchy.  But one morning before the other children were up, Greta dug through the costumes to pull out this one and bring it to me.  She was quite insistent about wearing it, repeating her version of "giraffe" (which is really mostly the last syllable) until I stopped exercising and zipped her into it.

play palace

With Todd gone all week (to Charlottesville to learn more about historical bookbindings), it's a good thing that the children have become -- at least on occasion, certain hours of the day, and when engaging in certain activities -- fairly self-sufficient.  Gwendolyn is a good babysitter and play-leader, the boys can easily lose themselves in games inside and out, and Margaret's attention span has grown (and she only really wants to be with the big kids, anyway).

It's goggalor!

Margaret has long been fascinated by accessories of all kinds, but is particularly enamored of glasses.  She sees that her parents have pairs for inside and out, and loves to act out the process of removing and putting them on.  We are fortunate to have these goggles to keep her from demanding our glasses -- and have learned to put ours on top of the dresser when going to sleep.

sparkling

On our way to the fireworks display, we stopped off at a shack and bought a small number of relatively benign  fireworks of our own.  Though there was some anxiety about matches, sparks, housefires, and the like (mostly stemming from Gwendolyn, the family worrywart), we were able to get excited about setting off some flowers.  But the sparklers, as usual, were the most interactive.

When we gave Casper a sparkler as a toddler, he promptly burned his finger.  It was a surprisingly unpleasant wound which I suppose must have gotten infected.  I guess our bad parenting hasn't scarred him, though, because he was perfectly confident about it this time around.

I have a feeling that these poses say something about the personality of each of the children:

Independence

Though we don't have a fourth of July parade to prime our patriotism early in the day, people in Texas are serious about fireworks.  We have our choice of venues, and so opted to go first to the Bush Library to visit the exhibitions and participate in some kids' activities.  For the main event, though, we decided to return to a nearby small town (population under 400) for its remarkable display.  

We were able to connect with our great friends for both legs of our celebration, so had comrades for the necessary waiting.  (Fortunately, we were able to fill the time with conversation and Toffee Tag, a version of freeze tag which involves Casper's lovey, for some reason.)  And the explosions were worth the wait.  Even Greta was engaged with the display -- for most of the time, anyway.

excavation

We recently returned to a playground the children have dubbed "petrified wood park" because there is so much of the stuff lying around.  I've admitted on several occasions that the thing I like best about the ground around here is what was happening hundreds-to-thousands of years ago.  (Better conditions than for nourishing a garden or trees, I should say.)  After filling their mother's purse with the stuff, the children found some larger pieces in the fields. Unfortunately, lacking the tools to dig and pry the pieces out, we had to leave them for another visit.

Mr. Apology

Casper is at an age at which he has a difficult time listening to directives from his parents.  (Some of this, certainly, is also personality; for that matter, much of it is no doubt a failing on our part.)  We often have exchanges that end with us exploding at him for having neglected to feed the cats or get in his sleepers after we've asked for the fourth time (although he always begins by heading in the proper direction, is it his fault that he gets sidetracked with more interesting projects?).  Recently, this has led to him apologizing, quite sincerely, when he senses that we've asked him to do something that he just can't quite recall.  For example:

Mama: "Casper!"
Casper: "I'm sorry, Mama!"
Mama: "Why are you sorry?"
Casper [guessing]: "Because . . . I'm not dressed for the day?"
Mama: "Actually, I was just asking what you wanted for breakfast."

the great communicator

Greta's always been capable of expressing herself, but the extent of her communicative skills has become apparent in the past month as she's started to speak in more complex sentences.  These are usually three or four words, but some of the sentiments are quite involved.  When I came home from my recent trip to Minnesota, she wouldn't let me out of her sight; when I disappeared for a second, she asked, "Where Daddy go?"  She recently saw her mother wince as she was walking across the floor and asked me, "Mama hurt toe?"  At another moment, she asked directly, "Mama, are you sad?"

Of course, like every 21-month-old, sometimes her most forceful statements are non-verbal.  When she recently decided that the liked the look of this flowery hat, she refused to allow us to remove it from her head.  There are some battles that aren't worth fighting, and we decided that this was one -- even if her little bonnet does look a little funny from the side and back.