Mitchell (11 mos.) woke up from his nap crying and crying. Not just crying but really more screaching and howling. After a diaper change (which I suspect was the root of the problem, but we'll leave it at that), he calmed down and I stood in his room, bouncing him up and down, rocking back and forth, as he discovered how good Mama's shoulder feels on a plump, wet cheek. I savored every moment of holding his unusually snuggly self, and then sank into bliss as his left arm crept up around my neck and held on to my back. Ahhh.
Speaking of Mitchell. I'm pretty sure he's the smartest baby ever. I've been giving him a sippy cup to mess around with for awhile now, usually at lunch, filled with water. Today I stepped out of the room for a moment and when I came back, he was slammin' them back! Really, he had figured out how to tilt the cup up and get the water down to his mouth. Genius! The other two didn't figure out that sippy cup thing until well after a year. Perhaps it's my superior parenting. Or maybe not. Also, tonight, John was taking him up to bed and he blew me a kiss. "Um-mah!" he says as he moves his hand away from his open mouth. Ooooh, I could just eat him up.
It was a right of passage tonight in our house. Jack (5 1/2), John and I watched "The Wizard of Oz" together. John and I had both been "scarred" by the Wizard of Oz as children. My parents claim that they'd already seen it 20 times. Maybe that's why they forced my brother and I to watch it in the living room alone while they enjoyed two hours of coveted adult time. Now that I'm a parent, I understand. But really!!! Could those monkeys be any scarier? And how about the witch? She was green, for crying out loud! John agrees. So, we made it family movie night and watched it all together. And we prepared Jack for the scary parts. Sheesh, it's amazing John and I turned out halfway normal with all this emotional scarring.