Now that it is routinely in the 80's and muggy, Flora is satisfied that the boys won't get a chill and she has instituted a morning walk. This suits the boys just fine. Allan can sleep in the stroller as well as any where else. And Griffith is so nosy that being out and about is almost more than he can stand. In the afternoon, they usually spend some time on the front porch in the swings. Just think of them as our miniature version of the Neighborhood Watch.
Both boys have new teeth -- that makes nine each. I think. They both now have a lower left molar. Allan is working on one on the right, too, but we can't tell about Griffith since he fights and snaps like an alligator. After the first few teeth, the excitement has worn off for us all and it just doesn't seem worth the effort to confirm or deny another tooth. Still we'll be going to the pediatrician again soon and I will feel like a failure as a parent guess-timating how many teeth my kid has. Nine? Ten? Ish? Something like that.
Allan has learned to roll over more than one revolution at a time which is quite an accomplish. He has also become quite adept at pulling off his wires with his toes. He oxygen requirement is way down despite how much more active he has become and we are hoping this represents progress toward coming off the oxygen entirely. Allan has managed to mark himself; we hope not permanently. He has marks on both of his little thumbs from where his sharp little teeth rub them. It doesn't seem to deter him a bit, though. He is a thumb sucker through and through.
Griffith continues on his merry path of destruction. It is as if someone let a monkey loose in the house. He has learned to open the drawers on the dresser. We thought (hoped) that it was just a fluke. Maybe he was holding the pull and kind of fell back and pulled it out. On accident, as Thomas would say. So we closed it. And he immediately grabbed the pull with his meaty little hand and jerked it back open. Great. He also managed to open the door on the front of the entertainment center. Flora was telling me about THAT and, while she was in the middle of her story, he crawled over and grabbed the handles and jerked on it -- as if to say, "See? Like this." Our very own living, breathing demonstrative aid. Then, yesterday, he was working on the door on the washstand in the living room. I've decided to abandon that entirely. Just empty it out and let it be his cabinet. If he is any kin of my brother, he will start sitting in it and playing for hours. Whatever it takes.
Griff has taken to telling me off, too. If I cross him (which I seem to do on a regular basis), he furrows his brow, makes a fierce face and jabbers in a way that makes clear that I am not suiting him. He throws in the occasional "Ma!Ma!Ma!" just in case there is any question of what he considers the problem to be. (I tell him that I don't need it from him. That's what his father is for. But he keeps on giving me what for any way.) He gave me a good telling off this morning because I was making Allan cry. (Allan does not like to be messed with in the morning in any way. He doesn't want to have a wet diaper, but he doesn't want you to change it, either. So he howls like you taking the skin right off of him.) The only consolation is that Griffith apparently feels some solidarity with Allan.