Our Bold Adventure Continues

Sometimes I laugh at the things I have to say to my children. I have been keeping a mental tally of the NOs I've issued over the past year or so since they started really testing things. It all started one winter in Minneapolis when I actually had to say, "no licking the car." I cracked up about that one for days, I mean, seriously -- who licks the outside of a car? It can't taste good, all that dirt and grime. Alas, that was just the beginning. Since then, I've repeated the no licking the car line many times. And the list has grown to include: no sitting on your sister's head (sister, surprisingly, was not objecting), no sitting on the dinner table, no licking mommy, ketchup is not a finger food ... I'm sure there are more, and if you're a parent you may be able to add some of your own. Wish I'd written them all down. Most recently I said, "We don't put shoes in our mouth, and we don't lick the toilet." What about your kids? Got

Start with one fledging parental friendship. Add a dozen or more kids of all ages between five months and seven years or so. Add one face painter, who turns into a balloon animal-maker when the painting is done. Add one inflatable bouncer. Mix together and let rise for a couple hours while grown-ups enjoy beer, and then add one safari-animal-themed birthday cake. It's a recipe for sure-fire Saturday afternoon fun -- who cares that M+O didn't know the newly-four-year-old birthday boy until we arrived at his house! M with a dolphin. O with a bat. Her other cheek is a butterfly.

Our girls play good cop bad cop. All. The. Time. This behavior is not unique to my kids, and I don't even think it's got a thing to do with being twins. It's just kid stuff, but it drives me bats. And, since I watch it so frequently I've spent some time deconstructing it. When one is whiny and crying (often the result of a power struggle or demand for something she knows she can't have), and likely in some sort of removal or time out for that behavior, the other is all sweetness and light. Cheerful. Quiet. Self-entertaining. Then, the tide changes and the grumpy one will cheer up, and just at that moment the other will have a problem that requires crying or whining. Or perhaps an attempt to wrest a band-aid from mom (if there's no blood, they can't have a band-aid, but they do their best to get me to waive that rule). It's actually quite fascinating to watch from a social interaction perspective. Their priorities shift so silently and swiftly. Here's

I have managed to get myself a job . I applied for exactly one position and got it (this has happened to me before). Either I'm really as good at this museum thing as I say I am in interviews, or I'm really lucky. I could also have good timing, be in a small field, or be really good at fooling people. Actually, the part about good timing is true -- I sent the company a blind letter just a few weeks before they were going to advertise for an exhibit developer (that's what I do, in case you aren't keeping track). The job seems pretty awesome, which is convenient since there aren't many exhibition firms in Boulder. The work, the firm's clients, and the general feeling in the office all seem to be are right up my alley. They agreed to a half-time schedule, which is all I feel I can do right now because I'm not ready to give up being with my children more than that -- they're only three, after all. My job joy is tempered by the now-constant anxiety of findin

Three-year-olds are full of never-ending imagination. I guess kids learn the phrase "I'm bored" when they're older, because it's not even a concept for preschoolers, at least not mine. This is when having a twin must rock, because they have a constant playmate, not just for chunks of the afternoon, but for those slivers of time between breakfast and getting out of the house in the morning, between lunch and nap, after dinner and before bed. The games they make up just amaze me in their cleverness, reassignment of available items, and variety. Earlier today they were walking around the house, up and down the stairs wearing blankets on their shoulders ("capes"), crocheted hats, and tights (over their pants) (?), carrying a baby doll in a plastic bin meant to hold stringing beads, while singing a song they had made up about celery. They negotiate with each other over what to play ("now we're baby otters," "okay, now we're kitties,&quo

Parenting discovery of the day: Picky eaters will gobble their entire dinner if you serve it as a "picnic" on a blanket on the floor of the living room. They'll eat all their broccoli and ask for more even when the serving bowl is empty, all their red pepper slices, and their entire turkey burger. They won't be too keen on the steamed turkey wontons mom and dad are having, but that dipping sauce will be appealing. (The temptation, however, to put their fork on their foot, or their foot in their food will be almost too much to resist.)

I think I'll skip the "I'm recovering from a busy holiday" moaning and just go straight to a few highlights. Though I suspect, if you have kids you already know the stories -- they thought all the presents under the tree were for them, hopped all day from new wonder to new wonder, and looked adorable in their new pink tutus with magic wands. A few hours after the morning frenzy they couldn't list more than one gift. Children live so totally in the moment -- though they love a game or toy when they are in front of it, listing it when it's not in sight is tricky when you're three. M remembered the stocking, though. She told everyone about it. Not what was inside it, but that she got a stocking. We had a grandma in town, always a treat for Christmas, and days like this are just wonderful to share with family. Holiday discovery no one saw coming: the girls are scared of Winnie-the-Pooh. They'd been talking about him, so Santa put a DVD in one of their sto