I am finished, Mommy, come get me

It was Wednesday this week when Cora decided to throw a humdinger of a fit before school.
She woke up too early, and had been downstairs playing with Daddy since 5. By 7:30, she was starting to wind down.

Quinn woke up, and Cora and I went up to get her. Cora wanted to get in Quinn's bed (a great trampoline with rails). After I cuddled and changed Quinny to go downstairs, Cora declared she wasn't finished. I picked her up out of the crib anyways.

Cora flung herself on the ground. She stood-up to jump up and down then flung herself on the ground again. She wailed and kicked. In a wonderful "mother-of-the-year" moment, I picked Quinn up, walked out of their room, closed the baby gate behind us, and told Cora I would come and get her when she was finished.

The fit lasted a good 20 minutes. Wailing. Crying. Kicking. "I don't like you's".

Then, out of the blue, I heard a sweet, angelic voice from the heavens (or the balcony of our house) saying, "I am finished Mommy. Come get me."

And just like that, it was done.

[Disclaimer: this fit happened in February, when I first started this post, and about the time I ran out of time to blog. The fit was thrown with such stunning and dramatic flair that I still remember it, like it was yesterday...]

It won't be long til they team up on us

It was a rainy Saturday today, and when we finally decided to get out of the house, we were having trouble actually getting OUT of the house. I was in the chair getting Quinn dressed. Landon and Cora had a battle about her shoes. He came from our bedroom and sat down on the bench to put on his shoes. Cora was trailing behind, making "rotten raspberry" sounds (the kind that are meant to say, "I don't like wearing shoes and I don't like you and someday I'm going to have the vocabulary to launch zingers at you that hurt your feelings but til then these raspberries are all I got...").

Landon says, "Cora, if you are still making that noise when you get over here you are going STRAIGHT in time out". Cora stopped. 

Quinn missed only two beats before she gave us a big loud raspberry. 

First steps.

Today was a perfect Sunday afternoon. 

After church and brunch with friends, Cora fell asleep on the way home. We were halfway into her three hour nap. Landon was doing work in the office. Quinn was (always happy) playing at my feet. I was in the kitchen in my church clothes and an apron, feeling very connected to my mother and grandmothers as I "worked up" some strawberries to freeze for smoothies. I had a Pandora station found based on a search for "When We All Get to Heaven" playing in the background (perfect Gospel music). 

Landon came in, stood Quinn on her feet, and she took a nice step towards him. Then she did it again, and sat down. He stood her up again, and she did it again. She did it about 6 different times. 

I'll never forget Quinn's first real steps. 

The Rain Button

Cora: Mommy, it's really wet out here.
Me: It's raining.
Cora: Make it stop.
Me: I can't make it stop, silly.
Cora: Mommy, turn it off!
Me: How am I supposed to turn it off?
Cora: (nodding) You have a button.
Me: Where?
Cora: By Pearl. By the FENCE!

Waving and Standing Alone

Quinn has been standing on her own pretty easily for several weeks.
Tonight, Quinn was in my lap having her bottle and Cora was laying on blanket in floor singing.
Cora was singing her morning circle-up song from daycare, then greeting everyone and saying "Good morning".
When Cora looked at us and said, "Good morning, Mommy" and waved, Quinn's little hand popped up to wave back.
Her first wave was to Cora.

"Reason for the Season" fail

Yesterday at church, Cora was looking for the nativity scene and baby Jesus.
I explained it wasn't there anymore because it isn't Christmas anymore.
Cora asked, "Baby Jesus went to be with Santa Claus?"

This morning, Cora saw the coverage of the pope on TV.
Cora asked, "Mommy, is THAT Santa Claus?"

Daddy, go FASTER!

Last Saturday, we loaded the kids into the car to head to a tailgate at the School of Business (poor school with no football team has to make-do with Academic tailgates in lobbies of buildings before basketball games... It is an acceptable substitute for the real thing). 

We got our CofC gear, strollers, diaper bag, blankets, etc. into the QX, turned the key, and something wasn't right. Long story, but we called the dealership and immediately was able to trade the QX for a small sporty sedan for the weekend. 

Which made us feel like we were stuck in a can of sardines, albeit a fast can of sardines. 

Cora loves to accelerate, and often screams from the backseat, "Daddy, go FASTER" wanting him to pick-up-the-speed. Before you assume that Landon is driving like Lightning McQueen, let me add that Landon usually slows to about 10 MPH before getting on an on-ramp so that Cora feels like he's going 90 when he is really just going 40. The 10 to 40 mph acceleration felt really dramatic in this ground-hugging sporty sedan, and Cora was screaming to go faster every time the car stopped. 

Which led us to...

Quinny slept through the entire trip to switch cars, and Cora slept through (on a bench in front of a speaker) the entire tailgate. So, when it was time to leave the tailgate at bedtime, both of our kids were wide awake. On a Saturday night. Which made us feel like we could NOT just go home and waste the opportunity to have a family Saturday night outing. By the time that we left Ye Ole' Ice Cream Shop (where they do have Superman Ice Cream, if anyone needs some), Quinny was super tired. We pulled onto 17 towards I-526, and took the I-526 exit to get to Chuck Dawley. Cora was screaming "Go Faster", and Landon came off the ramp with a nice acceleration. 

Quinny was furious. In an uncharacteristically Quinn moment, Quinn gave an angry high-pitch scream, then burst into tears. Cora stammered over her words for a second, gathered her thoughts, and then let Landon have it in a finger-wagging lecture. 

Cora: Daddy, you scared Quinny! Don't you scare Quinny! YOU tell her SORRY QUINNIKINS! (then, in a sweet sing-songy voice) It's OK baby. It's OK Quinnikins. Daddy didn't mean to. Don't cry baby.

Lollipops are good, right?

Last night, Landon got home a bit early from class. He was just-in-time to take over the book reading routine before lights-out. I overheard him reading. The Little Engine that Could.

Landon: "But that was not all. The little train carried good things to eat, too. Big round oranges... fat, red apples... long, yellow bananas... fresh, cold milk... and lollipops to eat after dinner". Cora, lollipops aren't really very good for you. (he continued to read).
Cora: (after a long pause) Lollipops ARE good!
Landon: Lollipops are BAD!

From there, there was a long routine.
Cora: Lollipops are good (uncontrollable giggles).
Landon: Lollipops are bad! (continuing to read).
Cora: Lollipops are good (uncontrollable giggles).
Landon: Lollipops are bad! (continued to read).

Every time Cora would say it, Landon would give her underarms a tickle.

This morning for going potty, Cora got to choose a treat from the "pink pumpkin patch" (which is what Cora calls the pink jack-o-lantern on top of the fridge that STILL contains hall-o-ween candy). She found the very last lollipop, popped it in her mouth, declaring, "Lollipops ARE good, right mommy?"