This parenting gig

Very, very rarely do I think, “I’ve got this parenting thing figured out.”

Actually, I’ve never thought that. Ever.  (Nor have I ever met a parent who ever thought that.  Ever.)

But very, very rarely I do think, “Maybe I’m not doing everything wrong.”

Like when Frances pulls out a New Yorker, makes herself comfortable on the couch, and “reads.”

I can take some credit for that, yes?  Maybe if we start studying now, as an adult she’ll have a vocabulary to rival Anthony Lane’s.

A mother can dream.

Egg Hunting Heathens

Time to head over to the Eliot School for egg decorating again!

I love doing this.  We get to decorate eggs, see neighbors, eat goodies and avoid clean up all at the same time.

Frances takes it very seriously.

And Chandler watched from her carrier.

Poor Chandler.

After decorating eggs, we headed down the street for an egg hunt.  Darby, one of Frances's friends from Montessori, just happened to be there. 

(Frances was not in a funk that day, all appearances to the contrary.)

Chaos ensued, for about one minute.

Can you see Frances?  Neither can I.

Chandler missed the point of this activity.  She mostly stood on the sidelines with the bag we brought for her eggs and her snack trap.

Who needs eggs when you've got your snack trap?  Not Chandler.

Oh, my,  I love this goofball.  Have I mentioned that?

And then we ate deviled eggs, courtesy of Mark.  Thoroughly satisfactory day.

Fifty-Three Months of Preschooler Frances

What a couple of monkeys.

Fifty-Three Months Fun Quote:

• "Mommy, when I grow up, I'm going to be a ballet teacher and a mom, because you can do two, you know."  Frances, the feminist.

Fourteen Months of Toddler Chandler

Oh, my, I love this kid.

High chairs are for babies, and she's a big fourteen month old, clearly.

She's so determined to master chairs, even if she does fall off almost as regularly as she climbs on.  She's going to be a pisser of a two year old, I'm afraid.

Fourteen Month Fun Facts

•  Language:  Nothing new, I'm afraid, but she does seem to understand us.
• Teeth: Two bottoms, two tops and some random points throughout her mouth.  Poor kiddo.
• Obsessions: Pacis, pacis, pacis.  We're in trouble.  Oh, and baths.  The kid really likes baths, which is very, very nice.

Wellfleet, I love you

More specifically, the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary.  We visited a bit ago and the first thing we saw outside the sanctuary's welcome center window was a herd of turkeys.

I'm a big fan of turkey herds.  The tom was out parading around and then there were many more females in the bushes.

We picked up a scavenger hunt guide and headed to the trails.

These whale bones weren't actually on the scavenger hunt - too easy to find - but so cool, regardless.  Frances wasn't quite as impressed as I would have expected.  I don't think she could comprehend the incredibly size difference between a human rib and a whale rib.  Maybe next time.

After a stroll through pine trees, we went out onto the marsh.  It was low tide, so relatively dry.

Frances really, really likes leading the way these days.

The boardwalk led to the ocean and the rising tide.

Poor Chandler go to experience all of this from the comfort of her carrier.

Poor, tortured Chandler.

And then we high-tailed it out of there, so we didn't have to wade through the boggy bits.

Huge success.  There's even a rentable cabin, for when we get more adventurous and less dependent on sound machines for sleep.  Someday...