snow team

Since we moved here, we have generally gotten no more than one snow day per year.  Last year we got nothing, so the prospect of a polar vortex-derived snowstorm was the cause for great anticipation.  On Friday morning, I woke to the sound of Greta slipping into our bed to announce, "It Snow't!"  Unfortunately, what we ended up with was the remnant of some freezing rain that had resulted in a half inch of crystalline ground cover.  Despite its lack of resemblance to actual snow, there was enough there for us to have a good time playing in it (even if snowpeople were out of the question).

The coverage on the trampoline -- which shattered into chunks as soon as Linus crawled onto it -- was extensive enough to provide a base for snow angels.  Greta did her best, though she was very hesitant on the slippery surface.

Casper produced a creditable angel -- though it looks more like a dove in flight to me. 

What's sadder: that this is the best snow day that Texas can provide, or that it's still enough for us to get so excited about?

Polish play

Generally, the walking toys which I brought back from poetry conferences in Poland are on display in the playroom.  Greta is fascinated by them, though, so we  periodically pull them down for her to play with (and hold dialogues between).  She says her favorites are the horse (the fastest of the group) and the dragon (the most ferocious).

The children also all love the music box, these eight rattles and noisemakers which also came from Krakow.  (I found these toys, together with a modular wooden train set and our cloth puppet theater, in the store of the greatest toy company I've ever seen: Bajo.)

serious/goof

These are the two sides of Linus: serious and introspective one moment, playful and goofy the next.  We always have a good time together.

echo echo echo chamber chamber chamber

The echo chamber is one of our favorite features of the city park closest to home.  Not only does the cement structure provide a great racket for anyone playing, yelling, or stomping below, but it's possible (though difficult, without help) to scramble up top, which gives a great view of the landscape around.

Greta uses the echo chamber mainly as a venue for dancing.  Casper's in the background providing percussion, which is his expertise.

swinging quartet

chatterbox

Jennifer: Margaret, come and look at this goat.
M: That's not a goat -- it's a sheep!
J: You're right -- that is a sheep.

M: Green smoothies make me happy.  [And later, waiting patiently at her seat at the table, while no one is planning on making anything for breakfast, which was two hours earlier]: I'm ready for my green smoothie!

M: Daddy, you stole my kitty cat!

M: I can't like that cup -- that cup not make me happy.

Greta likes a pair of sleepers she inherited from her brother Casper.  They have blue and white horizontal stripes, and have a picture of a monkey on the front.  She likes to talk about the monkey, but doesn't like being confused with him ("Hey, I not a monkey!").  This morning, she explained to me that "the monkey's eating his ba-na-na -- when he finishes his ba-na-na, he says, 'ooh ooh ah ah.'"  (n.b.: Margaret pronounces "banana" with the stress on the first syllable and the vowel sounds switched.)

evening light

impish

Casper, solving the problems of interstellar travel: "You have a rocket ship.  Then you capture some light, like in a zip-lock bag, then you put in rocket boosters.  And the ship would already have an engine.  Then you go light speed!  See?  Easy."

C, asking to taste some of Jen's herbal tea: "Hmm.  It tastes just like it smells."  After a second sip: "It tastes like water . . . and plants."  After a second of deliberation: "I think I'm too young for this."

over the ravine

This family portrait would be rather more impressive if I had extended the frame to show the space beneath the kids' feet.  Below them, there is a small drainage ravine (one magnitude larger than a ditch), with the tree balanced over it.  It's not far enough that the kids are in any danger of falling down -- but they get the thrill of believing that they are.

Sunday best

I'm afraid (quite literally) to say that Margaret is a climber.  It's not infrequent that I'll come into the living room and find her halfway up a bookcase or dancing on the table.  After church, she wanted to climb up the goofy ornamental pillars in the front of our house.  She couldn't make it far wearing her Sunday Mary Janes, but she had a great time doing it.

the liberry!

Our local library was recently renovated.  Here are some pictures of the children in their native habitat.

statue

This statue is found along one of our downtown streets.  When we walked by it, the children all wanted to find out what was being read in the book, so they gathered around to see -- all, that is, except for Casper, who was terrified of the sculptural children.  Behold (although at this point, he's moved beyond terror and despair to despondency):

styling

Gwendolyn is reluctant to cut her hair, despite encouragement from her parents.  Her explanation for not wanting to trim it is that she's saving it again for Locks of Love, but I think she's just used to having it long at this point.  The reason she's being encouraged to change is not cosmetic, I should point out, but because it's difficult for her to keep it combed and kempt.  All her conditioning and brushing simply keep tangles at bay, especially since she doesn't care for ponytails or braids.  It's a good thing, then, that she has a stylist at hand to help her looking like a "pincess."

That flower headdress is Greta's "pincess" crown.

Lineebell

This action shot shows Linus ringing the bell which stands in a city square just outside various municipal buildings in our downtown.  Unseen in this image is Greta, running toward me in panic -- the tolling really is loud.

Casper sleeping

This is the way that we found Casper sleeping in our bed after he'd crept out of his own room.  His pup Toffee and his friend Whaley Whaley are keeping him company.

Casper: I'm sick.
Margaret: I sick, too.
C: Well, you're pregnant, but I have a stomach bug.  [to Mama]: We're just playing.

li'l junkie

Jennifer: [on the phone] Could I please speak to Todd Samuelson?
Margaret: Todd Samuelson?
J: Who is Todd Samuelson?
M: He's, uh . . . he's your Mama!

Margaret: [talking to a toy dog] Can I go into Target?
M: [responding] Yes! Woof! Of course you can!

M: I watch Peg + Cat!
Daddy: You've had enough, little PBS junkie.
M: I not junkie -- I muffin! No -- I Ketta!

M: I want to see myself in mirror!
Daddy: But I just got home, and haven't gotten any kisses.
M: [holding herself up on her Mother's bureau, swinging her legs side to side] So sorry, but I swing around.

M: [Angry at her father, who has taken away the necklace she stole from her Mother's dresser] I'm going to town! [Rocking ever more quickly on the rocking chair.]

. . . and two with the shivers

I said, and said, and said those words.

I said them.  But I lied them.

Like her big brother before her, Greta has developed a great love for "scary" storybooks.  This began (just as it had with Casper) with an abiding love of Dr. Seuss's great What Was I Scared Of? (the final story in The Sneetches), with its many chills.  It also extends to family favorite The Spooky Old Tree, which Casper is reading to Margaret in this photo.  (It helps that he has memorized it.)

Christmas cleanup

We spent much of this weekend reluctantly putting away our Christmas decorations.  We had removed the ornaments from the tree earlier in the week, but we continued the process by taking the tree out, putting away Jennifer's collection of nativities, and carefully storing the toys which Dad made for some of my earliest Christmases. They got a lot of attention this year, as you can see.  (That focused action shot with Linus and the boomslang is particularly telling.)

camo cat

What could that cat be hunting in the talking tree?  Read on:

bedhead

As our two-year olds tend to be, Greta is a real chatterbox.  Here are a few recent exchanges:

Jennifer: Where's Daddy?
Margaret: He's in the kitchen.  He's making my dinner . . . and your dinner, too.

J: Let's put on your shoes.
M: We going Legoland? I like Legoland . . . the ride not scary.

J: It's time to go to nursery.
M: I can't like nursery.
J: Well, you can go there, and I'll go to my class.
M: You go to your class, and I'll go to my church.

Gwennie: [reading scriptures]
M: I want to shake monsters and beasties' hands.

Many of her discussions are held privately as she plays with her stuffed animals or the inhabitants of her playhouse.  They tend to run like this:

M: Hello, Cocoa.
C: Hi, Ketta.
M: How are you?

Sparkling In the New

I'd hoarded some sparklers from July to use for our New Years Eve festivities.  I'd forgotten about them when, as if by chance, Linus brought me the bag while prowling through my office.  The children were all excited by the prospect of heading outside as the year began its final decline to set them off, though Greta was initially a little hesitant.

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