Summer colds, shoes and time-outs

Cary has a summer cold.
It's not keeping him down too much, thank goodness. He's still the same affable, giggling baby, but with a little less pep and a lot more snot.
His sniffles kept Michelle from taking the boys to the zoo this week (well, that and the fact that it was 96 degrees and rainy), but they seem to be having a good time in the house, playing and dancing and learning to crawl up the stairs. Yes, my boys have learned to crawl up the entire set of stairs.
Lord, help us!





In other new things, Dean has learned to say the word "shoe." He says it with his lips puckered, so it comes out more like the way we'd say Zsa Zsa Gabor, or Zhu Zhu pets.

"Zzzhuu?"

And he always says it just the way I typed it, with a question mark at the end. "Zzhuu?"

Picture him trying to put my shoe on his little foot and going, "Zzhhuu?" It's the cutest thing.

What's not cute? Cary and Dean have decided that they will only eat foods they can feed themselves -- have I written about this already? I feel a sense of de ja vu -- and so dinnertime in our house is now infinitely messier and longer and nerve-wracking for Lester and me.

It's nerve-wracking for Lester because he is mess-o-phobic, so the food on the floor and in their hair and thrown against the wall drives him nuts. It's nerve-wracking for me because I cannot imagine how in the world they're getting enough to eat. Dean, especially. Cary actually eats the little pieces of food we put on his tray, and he'll also allow us to spoon feed him a few spoonfuls, on top of what he's able to get in his mouth himself.

Dean, on the other hand, eats maybe three or four pieces of food and throws the rest on the floor, methodically, one tiny piece at a time, or in a grand, sweeping motion. But he won't allow us to spoon feed him at all. At. All. How does he sleep through the night, hungry? Urgh!

And here's the big news of this week: I have had to institute a mini Time Out for the babies when they insist on doing things like pulling the outlet covers out of the walls, hitting me or each other, spitting or throwing things, despite my admonishing.

Time out for 13 month olds? Who knew?

When they insist on being, well... being 13-month-olds, I firmly tell them "No _____," (fill in the blank with "hitting," "spitting," "being mean to your brother," etc.) and then I put the offending toddler in the Pack 'n Play and walk away to continue reading or playing with the other baby. 30-seconds of this is enough to send said toddler over the edge, back into compliance.

I never imagined having to use time-out on babies this young, but I really had to start doing something. They can get out. of. control. Little crazies!!

Confession: I always feel sad for the poor little baby wailing in the Pack 'n Play, but what I love the most about this age is that once I take them out, hug and kiss them and get back down on the floor with them, they're all smiles again. Like nothing ever happened.

I wonder how long this no-pain kind of discipline will last.