The kids' play is increasingly sophisticated. They are delighted when they figure out a way to interact with each other. As in the past, when we thought their little squirms constituted crawling until suddenly they were REALLY crawling -- now they are REALLY playing together. This morning we all four danced to "Ring Around the Rosie" and to the cheerier modern second stanza* and Tuck only wanted to hold Emi's hands and spin in circles with her. He cried when we made him stop because he was hauling her around a bit roughly.

*"The cows are in the meadow, eating buttercups; thunder, lightning, we all stand up!"

Tonight after bedtime I realized I had forgotten their cups of water for overnight. I heard giggling so figured it was safe to go in. I walked in and found both kids standing up in their cribs with their blankets draped over their heads, hiding their entire bodies, one fuzzy pink and one fuzzy blue ghost. I said, "Wow, what are you two doing?" and Emi said quite clearly, "Hi!" and then pointed to herself, still covered with the blanket, and said, "Emi!" (Lots more giggling from her, ha-ha-ing from him.)

Every evening between dinner and bathtime we go out on the deck and play with water. This involves much dipping of water from a large tub into various cups, bowls, and watering cans. They both get soaked and happy and a bit chilly, which makes them glad for the warm bath that follows. Tuck in particular looks like a little sommelier, judiciously sipping from a black plastic measuring cup after pouring various combinations of water together. I don't think I have ever seen anyone enjoy a sip of water so much. It reminds me of the passages in C.S. Lewis's Narnia books where he describes the clear water and delicious grape juice served at various revelries in the dawning of the new world. (Bizarrely, when I went looking for these passages online, I found a site ranting with the detail of true fanaticism about the "promotion" of alcohol and tobacco in various works of the very Christian Lewis.)

They carefully water each plant that I point out to them. Emi pricked herself on a potted rosebush tonight and shook a finger at it, saying "no, no!" sternly to the bush. She learned that from the book "Five Little Monkeys" in which we act out the doctor on the phone saying "No more monkeys jumping on the bed!" Sometimes she does something she knows she is not supposed to do, telling herself "no, no!" the whole time. They also play with the little stone jizo that lives in one of the rose pots, a Japanese statue representing the two pregnancies I lost before they were conceived. They carefully water his head and put hats on him. Emi points out all of his features, from ears to elbows, every evening. Of course they have no idea that he stands for their hypothetical lost siblings, but I personally find it very sweet.

Finally, Emi demonstrated at storytime tonight that she knows the names of several colors -- red ("re"), orange ("oyeye"), yellow ("yewo"), and purple ("Barney"). Yes, Barney.