What's the magic word?

Just like I did with Bean, I work hard to teach Squish sign language and communication skills. I also try to teach her to have some manners. While Bean picked up on signing quickly, Squish wants nothing to do with it. She learned "milk" quickly, because she knew it would instantly result in food entering her stomach. We've tried teaching her to sign "more" or "please," but it's falling on (pardon the terrible pun) deaf ears. She would much rather shriek like a teradactyl being dismembered with a spoon.

Now Squish loves her food. The girl can pack it away like a truck driver who's been on a starvation diet for the last month or so. She has literally out-eaten me on some days, and I'm no light-weight. She has a much more limited vocabulary than Bean did at this age, but the few words she does say are adorable. No, I'm not biased. Even the mailman will concur. So we've tried adding "please" and "more" to her vocabulary. She's not interested... even when there's food involved.

In my Imperfect Mama day-mares, I imagine her as an adult, demanding more food in a restaurant with an ear-piercing shriek.

A couple of weeks ago, I came home with some Italian beefs from our favorite beef restaurant. If you're unfortunate enough to live in a city without Italian beefs, I pity you. As the delicious smells wafted from my paper bag, she toddled over to me with dilated pupils. I hoped for a sweet welcome "Mama!" or something similar. Instead, my darling little cherub grabbed hold of my shorts with both hands, and with the urgency of a dying wish demanded "FEED ME!"

So much for manners.

The Squish that cried Wolf

Squish has taken to screaming "OWWW!" Whenever she wants attention. Or is frustrated. Or hungry. Or just plain bored. She uses just the right amount of edge in her voice to sound both insulted and adorable.



Obviously when we hear it all the time, we don't take it seriously when she says "Ow." She never says it when she's actually hurt... then we just get the delayed siren wail. You know the kind. Where she's crying but completely silent until she can catch her breath. And then she takes it to 11. The windows rattle, and the neighbors run to see where the ambulances are.



The child also has the fastest-growing fingernails I've ever seen. I have to cut them every other day, or we all look like we've been in a catfight. So obviously we say "Ow!" quite a bit around here. I guess it's a good thing we don't cuss when she scratches us.

Let me introduce you to our daughter... Mirena.

Today BigGuy and I were joking that perhaps we should give Bean the nickname Mirena. Lord knows she's much more effective at preventing pregnancy than any other birth control method we've tried. Although she has a negative influence on my hormonal shifts, and has definitely caused weight gain.

Bean has the most sensitive Romance Detector I've ever seen. She can be on the other side of the house, and if BigGuy gets a sparkle in his eye she instantly appears and needs attention.

Squish is learning from her big sister, and will now protest loudly at the sight of us snuggling without her. Apparently she doesn't plan on giving up her place as the baby of the family any time soon.

So when someone ever-so-delicately asks what method of birth control we use, would it be a bad thing to say, "my children"?

All the world's a stage

Bean and Squish have effectively turned our fireplace hearth into a stage. There are lights that shine down on it, and the hearth is raised high enough to make it the perfect spot to act out their dramas. Squish mostly just claps and babbles, laughing at Bean's silly faces. But Bean takes this very seriously. She spins tales of heroic princesses, beautiful brides, and puppies who need to eat/sleep/scratch every 15 seconds or so. Every so often, Bean will pause to ask, "are you watching?"

When I was little, my sister and I used to act out elaborate productions. Being the older child, I reserved the best roles for myself. I was the boss, and she was the secretary. I was the queen, and she was the princess. We both grew up in ballet classes, choirs, and drama clubs, and both have a love for the stage. My sister is much better than I am at all facets of stage arts... and in fact, she has a job where she's on stage very often. So these mini-dramas make me wonder where my girls will be in 20 years.

Now every time we turn on the lights over the fireplace, Squish happily claps her hands and climbs "on stage." Bean runs to find something she can use for a costume. I guess the apples don't fall very far from the tree.