batman and robin

I have a little over one week left before the girls turn one. When they're teeny, tiny one seems like it will never happen. You know it will and you know you will say all the things everyone always says about time flying and so much changing so fast. And blah blah blah.  But geez louise, is it true. It's like all of a sudden they just decided to be big. They suddenly have these personalities that have opinions. They try to communicate and think you should understand them. 

I mean, they had personalities before, for sure, but I'm talking PERSONALITIES. All caps. All bold. Whoa. They point to things and 'tell' you what they feel like having for dinner. They suddenly know how to throw {almost} full out fits when they don't get their way. {I choose not to be present for any/all full  out temper tantrums that may happen in the near future. They surely won't do that. Right? Ha.} 

They laugh at each other as if there never was anything as funny in the world and never will be again.  They tickle and play. They 'read' books and babble on with their review of it. They give Eskimo kisses and hold you tight long enough for you to know they mean they love you. They play peek-a-boo. Emphasis on boo.  They say 'dog' and 'daddy' and a million other words that they think we should know. They're on the verge of walking. 

And while they're teetering on the cusp of complete mobility, they conspire against me or Howie or the vacuum cleaner and head in two different directions, laughing and looking back. Seeing who will get chased first and who will become the chaser. Howie never chases either of them. But they must think he is because it becomes the most hilarious thing that's ever happened to them. Except that one time when they got this close to the vacuum while it was running. Oh, boy. They'll still be chuckling about that one when they're old and gray and rocking together on the front porch. 

Other times, it's like they meet in secret in the corner of their play yard to plan their recon missions for the afternoon. Charleigh gets the stairs. Logan gets the front room. Or Charleigh gets the bathroom while Logan gets the laundry room. 'She'll never know what we're up to,' they must say. 'She'll never guess where we are.'

 'Divide and conquer.' Or at least...divide and buy enough time to try to eat anything/everything that can be found along the way.  And then they meet back with stories of strange, unknown lands {There are markers in the guest room. MARKERS!!} and bits of Howie fur and brittle grass that have been carefully protected in tightly clenched fists. 

And just when you have their personalities pegged as this way or that, they change on you. Suddenly, it's Charleigh laughing with Logan's voice as she tries to get the lid to the toilet up. And it's Logan cautiously taking steps as Charleigh gleefully flings herself wholeheartedly from the ottoman to the couch. That girl just might walk first at this rate. Maybe she's decided it's time to take the lead for a bit as Logan has grown wise and careful in her old age. But then again, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if Logan woke up tomorrow and decided it would be the day to walk. Don't put us in a box, Mom. Just don't. 

Meanwhile, I run around keeping them from hurting themselves.  It's my one mission in life at this point. Baby proofing only goes so far, people. And it may not be nearly as cool as their daily missions but right now I'm the Alfred to their Batman & Robin. So really, I make their missions possible.