I Fought the Children's Museum and the Museum Won

The best part of going to the Children's Museum is that the little weirdos sleep like *normal* *babies* after a day there.

Claire is going to walk any minute now. Seriously. She was pushing a little plastic lawnmower around at the museum, and it provided very little in the way of balance and stability, yet she was tearing it up. She just needs to forget that she can't walk and take off across the room. She has all the raw materials - the balance, coordination, and strength. She just needs to put it all together.

Her speech is so funny lately. She's working on the "ow" words. First it was "wow," and everything was, "Woooowww..." It was a lot like college, actually, and hanging out with a stoned friend. You know, the one who falls for the "imagine you're running through the forest..." routine. I just keep waiting for her to say, "duuuuuude..." Then today she said "cow," which might have been because I have a really annoying habit of pointing out all the four-legged creatures on the prairie as we drive around. It's especially annoying when the kids aren't in the car. Anyway, so she said "cow," and then she babbled some, and I really think it sounded like, "What's up with that?" but I'm sure it was just a coincidence.

I love this age because the speech thing is just hilarious. I love how they'll just up and use a new word out of nowhere (like "civilization" - Mary Grace's latest 5 syllable vocabulary word du jour). I hate this age, though, because they can move a lot more than they should be able to. Claire will heave herself around with no regard for Newton's laws... and other important things, like gravity. Mary Grace had a bruise in the center of her forehead from the time she could walk until about 20 minutes ago. Claire is just entering that phase. I guess no one called Child Protective Services on me with her, so I can probably stop worrying. But nothing makes me feel like a worse mother than walking around Walmart with my bruised, beaten looking children who are looking at the ceiling and going, "Woooooowww..." like they're stoned.