Late yesterday morning it was 56 degrees! We went to play outside and although it didn't last for even an hour (we're all still sick here) I think it did us a world of good.
Rachel really wanted to blow bubbles, so we did.
I didn't get many cute pictures of her—she unfortunately has this huge bruise across her left cheek from running/falling/twirling/climbing on the organ bench. She keeps telling me how she did it and I keep not understanding. It will forever be a mystery. It's actually looking a lot better—you should have seen it last Thursday!
Miriam blew bubbles of her own making. That poor girl is a snot-bubble factory lately and if I don't pop them soon enough she get curious and ends up with snot all over her face, hands, arms, and torso. Our kleenex is always on the ready.
She was a going-concern yesterday. She decided, see, that by now she was probably old enough to walk down the stairs. Without help. I literally had to guard them. I don't know how long I've been trying to convince her to turn around and crawl down the stairs backwards—it's definitely been a long time. At this point I'm not sure she'll ever do it; she has no interest in it (though she's finally accepted that method for disembarking from tables, beds, and chairs). I think we'll just leave the baby gate up until she's sixteen. Or at least until she masters them.
She eventually figured out what the railing was for and that helped ease my anxiety—that cement at the bottom of the stairs comes up fast when you're falling—though she was still so awkward and clumsy about it that I think I had a few minor heart attacks.
Once while I was guarding the staircase to the deck Miriam went and climbed the steps leading to the garage door. Then she realized there was no railing and she was stuck so she started crying.
Rachel looked up at her and crooned, "Oh! Are you sad the cat died?"
There is a hole in the garage door where a cat door used to be. The cat, Dukie, died just before Rachel was born so the cat door hasn't been used in a quite a while. I can almost guarantee that is not why Miriam was crying, though I think Rachel genuinely mourns the loss of the cat. More than once she's told me, rather bitterly, that if Dukie hadn't've died she would have a pet cat today. The funny part is that Rachel doesn't really even like animals—whenever we go to my mom's house we have to put the cats away in the "cat room" or lock them outside or Rachel won't set foot inside!
I was glad we went outside when we did because by the afternoon a storm had rolled in. It was a windy, windy storm and just kept gathering velocity. By the time we put the girls to bed the wind was absolutely raging; it was thundering and lightning-ing and snowing. The power even went out...for about a minute.
I am definitely sad to see this springtime weather go. My pessimist husband was correct, after all. It is still winter. Phooey!
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