Want an explanation?
Cora has become our very own tiny dancer. Anytime the music is on, she starts to bounce up and down and lift her feet, and she occassionally tries to give a full-on jump. But she doesn't like to have an audience for her dancing routine. It isn't that she doesn't like to be watched... it is that she wants all audience members to participate. I've been trying to capture her jiving on camera, but it's a difficult task when she insists that I, too, join her on the kitchen dance floor.
Cora is great for an audience.
Cora has also grown into a better audience. I've always read to her, and when she was really tiny, she was always a captive audience (of course!). But over the past half-year, reading to her has become more difficult. She's wanted to touch the pages (which only works if it is a touch-and-feel book). She's wanted to hold the books and turn the pages. She's wanted to switch quickly between stories. However, last week she seemed to really "turn a page" (no pun intended). Now, when we are settling into bedtime, she clearly prefers some books over others, and anticipates some parts of the stories. Tonight I noticed at the end of Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes, she had her face turned up expectantly for "Three little kisses on the tip of her nose".
But my favorite time to have Cora as a captured audience is after her books, when I rock her and sing to her. That's right... I sing to her. Always have. Not easy songs, either, but songs with a range of notes. We've developed a consistent routine. We start with "He's still working on me", and then transition to several songs of thanksgiving that I remember singing in church as a kid ("I've got so much to thank him for", "Thank you Lord for your blessings on me", "I want to thank you, Lord, for every time you heard me pray"), and then all 4 verses of "Amazing Grace". Finally, we always finish with (admittedly very random) Phil Vassar's country song "Just Another Day in Paradise". If you've ever heard me sing, you'll understand why my brother recently said, "And you think THAT is going to make her stop crying?!?!?" I am such a horrible singer that I once heard from another class of students that the music teacher at our high school (Ms. Robinson) declared that she had never met anyone who was truly tone deaf, paused, and then declared Carrie Blair might really be tone deaf. I wasn't even in the room! Sometimes, when Landon and I sing at church, people in front of us will glance back to see where that "noise" originates. You catch my drift, right? The fact that I'm a horrible singer makes Cora's reaction all the more sweet. It could be that she is just as tone deaf as me, but when I am singing to her, she often takes her little hand and rubs my face. The other night, both of her hands popped-up in the air and she gave me a little applause.
The time that we spend in the rocking chair is becoming even more precious, as she no longer prefers to be rocked to sleep (she is starting to prefer to be sleepily deposited into her crib), and she's adopted the daycare naptime routine (lying in her crib with her room dark and music playing softly in the background). She is a great audience at bedtime, and I will be so sad when she starts to recognize that Mommy is a really really REALLY bad singer.
She's become a decent host. She loves to greet people at the door, and she especially likes to walk people to the door and say "Bye!". Here she is at brunch after (what we like to call) the 8:07 mass. Post-mass brunch is often my favorite part of the weekend. The Groeber's started the tradition of an impromtu post-mass brunch, with a hodge-podge of food that people grab on their way to the house. At the Groeber's, the country Top 40 plays in the background, and the kids drag out all available toys while the adults liesurely eat. This pic was taken last weekend, when we finally offered to host.
One problem with Cora as a host: she hasn't figured out the order of the "Bye". Last week when Melanie, her regular sitter, left, we told Cora to tell her, "Bye". Melanie was standing just past the door jam. Cora ran to the door, slammed it, then stood there with her arm stretched high eagerly declaring "Byyyye! Bye-Byyyye." Landon and I were left yelling loudly, hoping Melanie could hear, "We promise she likes you" and "We hope you'll come back next Wednesday". She also likes to blow kisses at people after they walk away.
Cora's mothering skills need some work! Case in point: on Sunday I was trying to squeeze in a shower while Cora was awake. I had her pinned in the bathroom with me, her babydoll, and its bottle. And that's when Cora got curious. It started with a desire to give the baby a bath. I'd turn around, see the baby poking through the shower curtain, and released down the sloped back of the garden tub (a water slide of sorts). Cora would then peak her head in laughing. That happened several times. I kept retrieving the doll, returning it, and instructing Cora to dry the baby off like we do with her after her bath. By the time that I registered the sound of the toilet lid opening, it was too late for Baby Mia. Baby Mia was plunked in the toilet, and earned an immediate trip to the washing machine.
Maybe this pic of Cora offering milk to Johnny McManus will redeem her? I sure hope that when the new baby arrives, Cora is the "happily offering milk" helper and not the "slamming the baby in the toilet" helper.
Landon placed me into the "Horrible mother" category Wednesday. Yes, I sent Cora to school wearing this outfit Wednesday. It was hat day, and I chose her hat, dress, and leg warmers. However, Cora found a pair of Reese's hand-me-down boots in her closet - a pair that I had already declared too narrow, as I couldn't get them on her feet when I tried. Cora found them and was determined to squeeze her feet in. With her pushing and my tugging, her feet squeezed in on Wednesday and she refused to take off her boots even after she came home from daycare. I finally had to distract her while she sat at her high chair.
