Discoveries

Things we have discovered about the Davis children in recent weeks:

1. Cary is the world's clumsiest child. We already knew this, but it was confirmed while at the beach. He seriously looked like he had been in a fight from all the falling he did. My poor child; he's all bruised and scraped up. Makes me sad.

2. Neither boy is a big fan of strange bathtubs. Go figure.

3. Dean just might be left-handed. We've suspected this for some time, but lately he has been choosing his left over his right more and more frequently. He still uses his right sometimes, though, and true handed-ness doesn't really show up for at least another year (maybe more). So we'll not invest in lefty scissors just yet.

4. Moving them to big boy beds is going to be an adventure. While at the beach, they slept together for the first time since early infancy. Oh, the hilarity and hijinks! It was fine for three nights, but when we have to go through these kind of shenanigans every night? Lord. I hope they stay in their cribs until they're teenagers.

5. Clair not only likes playing with her toes. She likes eating them!

6. Clair has a temper! She gets mad and throws things and yells at us when she doesn't get what she wants. At 5 months old, she does this. Hello. Can you say, "we're in for it?"

7. Dean loves to harass Cary. He takes food off his tray, pushes his napkin away, takes toys, sits as close as he possibly can to him, hits him and is just a general pest to his older brother. (But he's also very caring. When Cary is in a crying jag and can't express what he wants, Dean always goes up to him and says, "Tarry, no need to cry. Calm down. You want (fill in the blank)? O-tay!" It's really very sweet.)

8. Cary will answer for Dean if Dean doesn't know the answer to something, or is too slow (for his tastes) to respond. Dean's doing better though, at jumping in to avoid Cary stealing his thunder.

9. Both boys have learned to do three troubling things:

    A. Tell on one another -- "Mommy! MOMMY!! Dean is touching my chair!" "Mommy! Tarry took the Legos away!!"
    B. Tell "stories" -- Me: "Who has a poop?" Cary: "Deanie!" Dean: "Tarry!"
    C. Be bratty -- "Where are we going?! (fifty times)"; "Why are we going to this store?! (in a perturbed voice)"; "I don't want to go to the store! (angrily, and also fifty times)"; "I don't like this breakfast!!"

Again, can you say, "we're in for it?"

10. The boys know all their colors (including gray, white, black and brown) and all their shapes (including rhombus/diamond, heart and octagon.) Cary can recognize just about every letter in the alphabet and all his numbers up to 10. They can both count to 10 consistently and sometimes to 12! Yay!

Rosemary's baby?

Apparently, I am carrying a demon child, because my body keeps trying to kill it.

First there was the bread truck incident.

Then, last night, I went to put a protesting Dean over the baby gate from the dining room into the living room, and leaned too hard -- I guess -- into the gate. The gate gave way; I dropped Dean on his head. The gate fell on top of him and then I fell HARD on my face, belly and knee.

Did I mention I have hardwood floors? Ugh. This is why ancient man invented carpet, I'm sure of it.

I have a sore-to-the-touch knot on my head and a tiny little bruise. I had a headache all night, and my nose is still sore.

Dean was fine, after getting over the fright of the fall and of having the mesh gate on top of him like a fishnet.

Curve Ball seems fine, too, despite my worrying all night about whether or not she was moving enough.

So, all's well that ends well, I guess. But seriously, what the heck?

My friend Rashod Ollison asked me if someone had "put roots on me."

I am inclined to believe it's either that or I am carrying Rosemary's baby, and my body is trying to save me the humiliation later on in life of having given birth to the spawn of Satan.

Or..maybe I'm just tired and off-balance and distracted, with fluctuating blood sugars that make me feel all loopy. And so, if that's the case, I should prepare myself for more clumsiness and haphazardness for at least the next 11 weeks.

I think I'll buy myself a helmet.