Hasn't it? Sorry, folks. It's a blogging problem, when you don't blog for a while you feel like you have to sum up everything that happened since you last blogged, and as you procrastinate that amount just grows and grows. Plus I've been busy with my Google Reader feed, my Wii games, and my son who has stopped sleeping through the night (again.) Plus the end-of-school-year co-op duties, plus Scott working long hours, plus no cleaning lady, plus (New feature!) date nights. Life here is cluttered.
For reals, though, a quick update for posterity's sake: Nate has been walking and climbing. He has some words: Mama, Dada, and Bye (Ba-ie!). He will also say (sing?) ro-ro-ro-ro if someone else sings "Row Row Row Your Boat." Then there are the words he only said for one day: na-Nan-na (for banana), and then, a couple of weeks later, ah-poul (for apple.) Nate is an incredibly cute little cuddly person. This works for him, as he is going through a serious separation anxiety phase. I end up holding him a LOT, especially at the playground. Current Nate nicknames: Snuggle Butt, Cuddles McGee, Little Snorgler.
This is Tallulah's last week of school as a Dragonfly. In the fall she'll be in the Rainbow class, which means that, like some whacked-out hippy child, she's currently a Rising Rainbow. She is sweet and friendly and precociously clever. At our recent parent/teacher conference her teachers said she'll interrupt to correct them if they skip words while reading aloud to the class. She will also complain if something is "boring" (this made me cringe.) And she's apparently been giving out her phone number and address to strangers she meets at the park. Whoops! So Scott and I explained that she can't give out that info unless we say it's OK or unless it's to a police officer during an emergency. I don't want to put the fear of strangers into her (yet?), because I cherish her sociability and openness. And she's still so young that wherever she goes she's being watched by a responsible adult, so the chances of some trouble befalling her are quite slim.
She starts day camp next week. They'll be taking a bus to the park (or the gymnastics studio, or Coney Island, or the pool, or to the horse stables, etc.) every day, singing special camp songs along the way. I am hoping the ritual and the distraction of the songs will help nullify any anxieties she might have re: me not being able to "find" her. I think she'll have a great time.