A Little Bit On Margaret's Nose

We know, we know. We haven't updated this blog in quite a while.

What did you miss? Well, there was a birthday in there, and now our precious little Twinskis move into the third year of their lives. And we have to move that much faster (and think that much quicker) in order to keep up with them.

Speaking of moving, they are no longer content to be confined to the small sleeping spaces afforded by their baby cribs. They can now shimmy up and down the walls and up and over the sides at will. In order to contain our little Birdgirls of Alcatraz in the hopes of eliminating our tiny late night visitors to our bedroom, we had to install crib tents. Now, our girls don't so much get put to bed as they are locked in captivity for their sleeping ritual. Strangely, though it breaks mommy and daddy's heart to zip that door closed for the night, they seem to derive a bizarre joy out of having their own little mesh fortress in which to jump, flip, and sing their way to dreamland. Night after night, we are responsible for establishing "Camp Twinski" so to speak.

Speaking of speaking, the girls are doing it....endlessly. Even when they don't have an audience and are speaking in glutteral growls and lyrical tweets instead of actually forming coherent words and phrases, as if they are channeling some tribal shaman of the infant world. It is hard to keep track of these things, as the list seems to increase exponentially each week, but we estimate them to be up to around 75 words or so. Notably, they can identify all of the most important individuals in their lives: Dora, Diego, Boots, Ming-Ming, Tuck, Pets, Elmo, Ernie, Bert, "Bee Bee" (Big Bird), and "Cookie." Oh, and Margaret has adopted her own nickname for herself, and now refers to herself as "Mimi." I suppose among the potential contenders of Margie, Maggie, Marge, Meg, Peg, Mags, Megs, Gar, Argar, Teragram, and Queen Lothar of the Snake People, "Mimi" is not so bad. You'll have to ask Kate just where she came up with the Queen Lothar thing.

Speaking of Mimi, she has a new habit of losing her nose. Well, not so much losing it as having it stolen off of her face. By Daddy. About 3-4 times a day.

You see, what happens is when one desperately needs to grab her attention away from the Nog channel on DirecTV, you can place your hand on her face and "grab her nose." Daddy will grab it, and show it to her (the old "thumb in between the the closed fist fingers" bit), at which point a very concerned look will fall over Margaret's face, and she says, "Nose...take, Dada!" Now, if Daddy really wants to get her aggravated, he takes her nose and puts it in his mouth, prompting Mimi furrow her brow and exclaim, "Eat...Nose, Dada!?!" Daddy is sure to swish it around in his mouth for the added effect, which always prompts a giggle from Mimi, no matter how dire a situation her nose finds itself at that moment. After a few seconds, Daddy spits the nose out into his hand, shows it to Mimi one more time, and puts it back on her face just as it was. Mimi takes this final trick in stride, giving a plaintive "Thanks!" and going on her merry way.

When Daddy first tried that trick, he was sure that she would not get it. But it is amazing how self-aware they are. Daddy even had her diving beneath the bubbles in the bathtub tonight looking for her nose before it went down the drain. Oh, the precious innocence of a child and their desire to keep all their appendages in place!

Must wrap up this long-overdue tale of Twinski travails. There is no good excuse for our lack of blogging of late, except to say that the Terrible Twos are actually the Terrible "Fours" when you have twins, and that equals much time and energy away from the other things in life. Blogging is one of the first activities subjugated by the Twincesses reign over our family kingdom. We are just fiefs plowing the fields in our daughters' lives, hoping and praying that our benevolent dictators continue their relatively peaceful rule, and perhaps, maybe, hopefully, get some good nights rests occasionally.