i'm lovin' it

So, we were in the McDonald's drive-thru. I yelled to Lauren in the backseat, "Nuggets or burger?"

"Nuggets!"

Insane laughter.

"Nuggets!"

More laughter.

For whatever reason, the word "nuggets" was pure hilarity to Audrey. The more Lauren said it, the funnier it became.

At bath time we decided to try it again for Ella, who had been at school during the day. So Ella said, "Nuggets," and Audrey laughed again, right on cue. The girls went back and forth a few times, amusing each other until, defying all expectation, Audrey yelled back, "Nuggets!"

I know what you're thinking. Audrey is nine months old. She cannot say "nuggets." And maybe she can't. Maybe she's just a baby incredibly lucky enough to say something just like it at just the right moment. But whatever she said sounded close enough that Ella, Lauren and I dropped our jaws, stared into each other's wide eyes, then burst out laughing.

You may doubt it. But we don't. We were there.

watch out world

. . . here she comes. Audrey is crawling! 

thanks, coach

We all piled into the van and commented on what a warm day it was. Kim cranked up the A/C and over the whir of the fans we could just hear Ella from the back seat: " Mu-u-u-u-ch better, Dad. Keep up the good work!"

yogi

So, it turns out Audrey can hold a pretty impressive plank position. She loves to be up on her hands and feet. When she needs a break, she puts her knees down and rocks back and forth. And when she gets tired, she slides onto her belly. When she's bored just lying there, she tries to "reach-n-roll" her way to somewhere else.

It's so fun to watch her do her thing.

in case of emergency, or whatever.

I was working at the computer when Lauren asked me to go upstairs and untie a ribbon she'd tied around the neck of her stuffed poodle. I said I would, as soon as soon as I finished. A few minutes later I heard my cell phone ring. I picked it up and saw our home number on the caller ID. Curious.

"Hello?" I heard giggling upstairs.

"Hi, Mom," a voice said, nonchalantly.

"Who is this?" More giggling.

"This is Lauren. I need you . . . to . . . untie my poodle?"

I taught the girls my cell phone number in case they get lost so that someone can help them contact me. Obviously, Ella used it to help Lauren get my attention. Good practice!

record. play.

I gave Lauren her PB&J and she asked me to cut it in half. I said I would, then left to get the orange juice she'd requested. When I brought her the juice she said, "I asked you to cut my sandwich in half."

"I'm about to, Lauren."

"Well, next time just do it the first time I ask."

Moments later . . .

"Mom, did you get all of the food I like to eat at the store?"

"No. I got some of the food you like, though."

"Ma-ma . . . if you get me all the food I like, I'll give you a tre-eat."

We had a little talk.

yum

I would just like to remember that to hold a freshly bathed Audrey in her soft, yellow sleeper pajamas is to hold the world's most perfect baby wrapped in a cloud. I could hardly make myself put her to bed tonight -- with that Johnson & Johnson fragrance; the yellow fuzziness; her soft chunkiness; those happy, expectant eyes; and that helpless laugh when you nuzzle her neck? Try to put the freshly bathed, fuzzy pajama'd baby to bed. I dare you.

eau de fuzzy

At bedtime I tucked in the girls and told them I'd find their blankies and bring them soon. Ella suggested looking downstairs in the basement. 

"I looked there, " I told her. 

"I'm the only one who can find it," she replied, and then, in all seriousness informed me, "I find it by scent."

by small and simple things

As I cleared the breakfast dishes, Ella sat down to do some writing practice. A few minutes later, she brought me a sheet of lined paper that read: I bleve that the Gospl is troow. I bleve in Gob. I Love subbas. I Love to Go to trch. I Love (heart) to Go to here the Profts.

She read her translation: "I believe that the Gospel is true. I believe in God. I love Sundays. I love to go to church. I love to go to hear the prophets."

And she meant it.

high expectations

It's Spring Break! Ella is home with us (hooray) so we're trying to do something fun every day, even though we're not going on vacation. Today we joined three other families for a play date where we had lunch and dyed Easter eggs. After coming home the girls took naps, then woke up looking for something to do. I suggested reading books, playing in the basement, coloring, or helping me fold laundry. Ella had something else in mind: "I was thinking . . . maybe you could set up  . . . a trapeze."

mvp

On the way home from our first T-ball meeting tonight, I noticed Ella tearing up in the back seat, and we had this conversation:

"What's wrong, Ella?"

"What if I become  . . . famous?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if I become a famous T-ball player!" (sniff)

"How would you become a famous T-ball player?"

"You know. One person likes me, then they tell another person, and they tell another person, and, you know."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, honey. But why are you worried about it?"

"Because I'm just shy. I really don't want to be famous."

"Well, don't let that stop you from doing your best."

Pure ego, I tell you. I would write a book about building self-esteem in little girls, but I don't know how this happened.