Growing up mish-mash

My kids are crazy with personality.

Just like your kids are crazy with personality.

Every time I am positive that they have maxed out the amount of personality that could possibly be contained in one tiny little body, they prove me wrong.

Of course, this is especially in reference to Sophia.  Jude surprises me, too, but I have vague memories of Sophia exploding with personality at his age . . . but Sophia now?

Surprises everyday.

I'm pretty sure she is smarter than me already.  

I was shocked when she figured out how to use her camera before I did . . . I don't know why when I see her figuring new things out everyday.

Her current obsession?  Princesses.

And Prince Charming.

And if I didn't have a teensy bit of basic psychology sticking around from my college days, I might have been shocked by recent conversations.

Said as though condescending to give me a great gift . . . "Mama, you can marry somebody else.  Someday when I grow up, when I marry Daddy.  I'm going to marry him when I grow up."

Ummm.

Yesterday, when Sophia's marriage plans came up again, I carefully explained that Daddy was already married to me.

"But we will find you someone who is just as perfect for you as Daddy is for me . . . when you are all grown up."

"Like Juders?"

"Well, no.  You can't marry your brother.  We'll have to find him someone wonderful, too."

"I can marry Prince Charming."

"I'm sure you will think he is like Prince Charming when he comes along."

The little things surprise me.

Picking out clothes for herself and Buddy Boy in the morning.  

"That shirt won't keep you warm today, better pick out a long-sleeve.  I'll hang that one back up for you."

Double-take as she puts it back on the hanger, back into the closet.  When did she figure that out?  

I guess it's all about the clothes with my kids.

As soon as Jude knows we are headed out the door, he starts getting us all ready.  He goes into the closet and reaches for our coats.  Then time to get shoes for everyone.  

"Thanks, Buddy Boy, but I think I will wear my Birkenstocks today instead of my princess shoes."

He heads back to the hall with said princess shoes, and comes back with Birks in hand.

Jude's vocabulary is hard to judge at this point.  I can make out a word here and there, and he is pretty good at making his needs known, but it still mostly sounds like "Blurbity blurg ugrth grrrrrrr grrrrrrr (lion impression) bluthhhh grrrrrrr banana."

Sophia is fun to talk to in her own (older) way.

Listening to classical music in the car, some sort of Blue Danube . . . "This music is lovely, Mama."

"It is lovely, isn't it, darlin'?"

"Very lovely."

The other day Jude was having one temper tantrum after another.  I was attempting to pay bills and do various other chores involving some level of concentration.  Impossible with the screaming toddler clinging to my legs.  Finally I gave up on accomplishing anything and told him "Story time!"

Jude took off running, chortling happily as he dashed for the bookshelf.  We settled onto the couch to read "Murray's First Words" as the Judester wiggled and laughed at every other word I read.  

Not hard to judge his love languages . . . touch and quality time, all the way.

Sophia slid onto the couch on my other side, slipping her arm around me.  

"How cozy we are cuddling up!" I said.

"Just like you cuddle with your husband, right?" said Sophia, as she hugged me with her arm around my shoulders.

"Just like . . . so cozy!"

Sophia has mastered the art of opening the fridge and getting herself a snack.  I decided I might as well capitalize on this, and told her she can get fruit out for her and Jude.  Previously she had decided she didn't like clementines anymore, but now that she gets to pick out and peel hers it's a different story.

"Can I go get a snack, Mama?"

"You can get some fruit out for you and Jude."

"An apple or a clementine or grapes or pineapple or dried cranberries or raisins or banana, right?"

"Yup."

Allowing fridge access is me trying to take the first steps toward not being a helicopter mom as these kids grow up.  Because inwardly I am cringing as I see sticky fingers on my stainless steel fridge.  Time to get over it!

They're growing up.  Quickly.  Just like all the old Walmart ladies say.