28 April 2006
5 years--yay!
Happy Fifth Anniversary to us! I'm so happy to be married and have the two best little boys in the world! These have been the best five years of my life.
27 April 2006
Whee!
Sebastian really, really wants to walk. He wants to do everything Abraham can do. I don't know if he'll actually end up walking any sooner than Abe did (Abe walked at about 12-13 months), but Seb thinks he already can walk. He'll stand up and then let go of whatever he's holding, and set off purposefully toward some destination on his tiny rubber legs, but then he'll wobble and fall right over. Doesn't seem to deter him, though.
19 April 2006
Sebastian signs "more"
Sebby did his first sign this week. One day at lunchtime he was crawling towards me, crying, and he kept sitting up and putting his hands together. At first I thought he was clapping, but then I realized he was saying "more." (I guess he's still working on discriminating between "more" and "eat.") Then, when I got his food out, he signed "more" every time I paused in my spooning. He seemed so happy and pleased with himself--he'd look at the food, then at me, then sign "more"--and break into a huge grin when it worked and I actually gave him more. It must be so empowering to suddenly be able to communicate like that. And it's a lot less noisy than his alternate method (yelling), too.
Easter Boys
Easter
10 April 2006
Abraham and Sebastian loved having Karl, Philip, and Allison come to visit. We wish we could see them more often!
Here is a picture of Abraham and Uncle Karl, both wearing their purple ties. (Abey's is less purple than Karl's, but it's the best we could find.) After Karl went home, Abe said, "It's fun to have Karl here, but I guess his own kids need him too."
07 April 2006
In memoriam
Leslie Norris died yesterday, April 6th, 2006.
In honor of a good friend, a superb teacher, and a remarkable poet, here is an excerpt from his poem "Stones Trees Water."
. . .
There are no simple seasons, sufficient
to themselves. Summer leaves,
swinging in glossy plenty from the boughs,
remind us of the January trees,
black in the cold rain. We tread
the old leaves underfoot,
leaves six months dead. We walk
among the brief generations of leaves
towards winter.
. . .
Revealed by winter, small trees
stand like rueful old men,
their bare shanks thin, their
old veins hardening. Useless
to promise as we walk among them
a renewal of youth, a returned
flaunting of green,
when April comes.
They are turned now
from the wind
that shaped their growing
and it is enough
that they endure
what each day's weather
brings to them.
And who is so rash
as to promise us
another April?
In honor of a good friend, a superb teacher, and a remarkable poet, here is an excerpt from his poem "Stones Trees Water."
. . .
There are no simple seasons, sufficient
to themselves. Summer leaves,
swinging in glossy plenty from the boughs,
remind us of the January trees,
black in the cold rain. We tread
the old leaves underfoot,
leaves six months dead. We walk
among the brief generations of leaves
towards winter.
. . .
Revealed by winter, small trees
stand like rueful old men,
their bare shanks thin, their
old veins hardening. Useless
to promise as we walk among them
a renewal of youth, a returned
flaunting of green,
when April comes.
They are turned now
from the wind
that shaped their growing
and it is enough
that they endure
what each day's weather
brings to them.
And who is so rash
as to promise us
another April?
04 April 2006
Conference Sunday
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