Morning

This morning Louis woke up first.  He had a poopy diaper--not a surprise, as it seems lately he likes to start vacating his bowels the minute he opens his eyes.  He wanted to nurse before his diaper change, so I had to cradle him in a cloud of stench while he gazed up at me dreamily.

Finally he let me change him.  Afterwards, I brought him upstairs and put him in his highchair.  I got out some pureed sweet potato, added some brown rice cereal.  Clara came downstairs in purple paisley jammies. She removed her overnight pull-up and tossed it in the garbage.

Her hair was wild with sleep and her skin soft and pink as a rose petal.

"Do you want cinnamon toast?" I asked her as she settled herself on her chair.  She grinned coyly, her baby teeth like shy little pearls.  She loves cinnamon toast.  On the mornings we have oatmeal or Cream of Wheat she can hardly bear life.

I got out the bread and set to work mixing cinnamon and sugar in a bowl.

"Mom, why do you always steal Dad's things?" she asked after a contemplative silence.  I glanced over and she was resting her chin in her hand, watching me intently.

"I don't steal his things. My shirts all get dirty really fast because you guys-" gesturing to her and Louis--"like to touch me with grubby hands.  Daddy says I steal his things.  I don't steal them.  I borrow his shirts sometimes when mine are all dirty and haven't come through the laundry yet."

"Oh."

She was feeling generous, letting me off easy.  Maybe it was the cinnamon toast.

I sat down to feed Louis.

"Do potatoes grow on a tree or in the ground?" Clara asked. (In addition to sweat-inducing depositions, mealtimes in our house seem to also be an occasion for profound questions and observations. Last night Clara looked sagely at Louis in his high chair and said, "Upsy-daisy and downsy-daisy, Louis.  There are all kinds of daisies in this world.")

"In the ground," I replied.

I paused with Louis' spoonful of sweet potato in midair while he let out a boisterous sneeze.

"Bless you!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, hi!" he replied, flapping his hand at me in greeting.

"No, Louis, it wasn't a greeting," I told him.  "I was blessing you because you sneezed!"

Clara thought this was hilarious.

"Dikka, dikka, dikka," Louis said, grinning at me hugely.

Later, as we drove down the street to Clara's preschool, she said, "Mom, why do cars crunch people?"

"Cars are really heavy.  That's why we have to be super-careful around them."

"Are they too heavy to lift?  I bet Dad could lift one.  He's really strong.  I bet he can almost lift a tree."

"I'm strong, too," I said carefully, experimentally. I glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Hmmm," she replied noncommittally, staring out the window.

"aiiiii-YA!" said Louis.