We signed a lease on an apartment and picked up keys today. There's no place like home for the holidays, and now we have one. These are busy times.
The Grub, just so you know, is progressing right on schedule with her turning over on her side, increased dexterity, and attempts to giggle. Unfortunately for her, the expectations are high because she's every bit the size of a six-month old.
The Bug has been all over the place. I'd be hard pressed to say the only time she's still or quiet is when she's sleeping. That's not entirely true. As most two-year olds, her quietest moments are the most concerning. In her better attempts to get away with something she knows she oughtn't do, she tells us to go somewhere out of sight and busy ourselves with some task, such as packing a box.
She likes to sing. Either by merit of poor memory or hypercreativity, she often adapts songs on the fly. Our favorite (and quite possibly hers) is, "If you're happy and you know it." Her version goes something like, "Happy clap hands. Happy clap hands. Biiiiiiiig happy clap hands." From there it can continue along the lines of the tradition lyrics, but at some point becomes a form of toddler Simon Says.
"Happy... bonk a head. Happy... bang da hammer. Happy... play Poh-Dough. Happy... do this." The cutest may have been, "Happy... wiggle belly." We've found that the imperative nature of the song doesn't work both ways. Whereas we may be repeatedly encouraged to demonstrate our elation by hopping like a froggy, the game comes to an abrupt halt with such well-intended suggestions as, "Happy... eat your dinner." or "Happy... use the potty."