Christine and Her Three Dwarves: Tumbly, Drooly, and BusyBusyNonStopMan

You don't think I just took pictures of Baylor the other day, did you? Silly you. I have three children. They all get equal play.

I'm going to take this opportunity to not only share with you the pictorial proof of the darling-ness that is my offspring, but also describe some of the goings-on in our household, particularly as they may relate to each kid. It's about time y'all heard what the Case kids are up to in these waning summer days. Ready? Okay.

Well, I'll post one more picture of Baylor, simply because it so richly illustrates just what he has become lately: an enthusiastically dedicated gymnast. That's right, folks, a gymnast. My son stands on his head, rolls out perfectly formed somersaults, vaults off of high places, and just generally gives me anxiety attacks multiple times throughout the day. As you can see from this picture of him tackling our swingset, all of this activity keeps him both skinny and skinned-up. (Note the knees.) I think tumbling classes may be in our not-so-distant future.

Baylor is so good about using the word "please," and he seems to think that using "please" will magically get him whatever he wants. Hmm. Magic word, indeed. Baylor shows a particular flair for playing pretend, which manifests itself in many ways: reading to himself (this is pretend at this point in the game), dressing up in whatever adult clothes/shoes he can find, making pretend soup, eggs, or cake for us using a spoon and some random toy, and on and on. Already Baylor has a huge imagination, and he approaches most situations with a serious, solemn look, as if gauging how he could integrate new knowledge into his elaborate imaginary world. I love watching him play quietly and wondering just what is running through his still-so-baby mind.

All right, moving right along. Here's Miss Charlotte, my baby drool machine:

She has four teeth all the way in and two more coming in at the same time, so her days are often cranky and always very wet. Poor sweet thing. When she's not upset about her teeth, she's demanding to be held or, heaven forbid, if she is not being held, crawling after her mother and crying "Mama!" in a pathetic voice. When she makes it to me she does one of two things: she either sits up and holds her arms straight in the air, thus communicating her desire to be picked up, or, if things are really desperate, simply resorts to bonking her head repeatedly against my leg. She can't talk much, but she sure gets her points across.

Needless to say, Charlotte gets held a lot, which means that she is becoming something of a princess. That's okay--she's the baby, she's a girl, it was bound to happen.

Being the baby has some distinct advantages for Charlotte, chief among them the gift of learning simply by watching her brothers. She watches and learns so much so quickly that, at the tender age of not-even-one-year, she climbs ABSOLUTELY FREAKING EVERYTHING like a champ, climbs down everything she has just climbed up like a champ (on her bottom and everything), eats only solid foods (she began imperiously refusing any spoon-fed food about two months ago--this includes communion, which distresses me), drinks cow's milk from a sippy cup like she was born to do it, "spells" out words (all the letters sound suspiciously like "A"), "reads" books (she babbles and points out pictures when she reads her books), draws with crayons and sidewalk chalk, signs a handful of words to communicate her wishes (so far: milk, thank you, more, and all gone), brushes her hair, answers her play telephone, waves and says "bye-bye" whenever she leaves a room, and even uses some words. "Dog," "ball," and "daddy" are all slightly different variations on the same "dah" syllable, but hey--I promise she's talking.

Her oldest brother, Jack, works hard at staying active. You know how much he loves to dance. (And remember this one?) While his brother attempts to do headstands on the ottoman, Jack is trying for the world record in Doing As Many Things As Possible At Once. He is reading, playing with a ball, dancing to the soundtrack of Cinderella on vinyl, asking for a Baby Einstein video, sneaking raisins from the kitchen, chasing the cat, and coloring on the windows in the sunroom, all at the same time. He does it all giggling and smiling; he has one of the sweetest, sunniest temperaments I know. And I swear, this kid never stops.

But then he does, from time to time. And as you can see, he's so danged cute and introspective when he does allow himself to slow down.

Charlotte again. She can't decide whether she's blonde, strawberry blonde, or a light brunette. Stephen maintains she's blonde. I'm just glad she's getting hair.

Eventually my hair-confused baby girl went down for a nap, and I concentrated my efforts on Jack.

Jack and his brother both love a collection of children's record albums I inherited from some friends recently (Have I mentioned Cinderella? Oh, I have? I'm sorry. You see, it's just that THOSE STUPID MICE HAVE TAKEN OVER MY LIFE), and the music rarely stops in our home. Jack especially shows a real grasp of rhythm--the kid is two, and he instantly catches the beat, clapping more accurately than many adults I've witnessed in all my years of formal music instruction. Just the other day he was banging away at his toy drumset, really getting into it, and I allowed myself to daydream about him becoming a professional percussionist and joining the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, where he would excel and enjoy international fame. And then Jack stuck the drumstick in his mouth and ran around in circles until he collapsed in a dizzy heap on the floor, laughing maniacally, and I was brought back to reality, where he is just a kid who likes to bang on things.

I like him in these swim trunks. I think he looks like Cary Grant.

See?

Now Jack just needs a Doris Day-esque leading lady, and we're set!

When he's not exuding cool playboy charm, Jack is making his mother melt with his pouty lips.

Jack also really digs (oh, bad pun, sorry, completely unintentional) our family garden, and I keep finding little not-quite-ready peppers and tomatoes sitting on the patio, offerings that Jack has so helpfully picked in an effort to, I don't know, save my aching back. The day I took these pictures he picked a pepper and then ate it right then and there.

So evidently he likes vegetables. Whodathunk.

I hope you enjoyed that little update on what our kids are up to! Maybe next I'll fill you in on a few interesting (or not, depending on how interesting you generally find us to be) details from the adult side of things. We live a charmed and blessed life, and we are continually thankful for God's provisions!

Even for cranky, daredevil, and/or busybody children. Especially those.