Ovulation and nail polish

I never truly understood nature v nurture until Henni arrived and I was able to watch the two of them evolve, grow, and develop their own selves.  And they really are their own selves.

Yesterday afternoon I was painting the bathroom and Oliver comes in holding a tampon.  "Mommy," he asks, "if you are still ovulating, why are you not having any more babies?"  I respond the way that any responsible parent in my shoes would - "Hey, would you like some mint ice cream?"  And Oliver, being Oliver, says: "Let's not get by this.  I want to know."  So I say: "How about mint ice cream in a cone!?"  He gives me a look.  So I put down my brush and we talk.  And I wonder what other big life questions I am going to have to prepare myself for next.

And that is when we decide we'll head out to go swimming.  Getting ready takes more time than it should because just as I am about to get the towels - someone is hungry.  I get food.  I go to get the towels, someone spills their milk.  I go to get the towels, I open the door to the closet, forget what I am doing, go downstairs, and then remember...towels.  Finally we are ready.  Just as we are about to leave, Henni shrieks and shriek that could wake the dead - on Mars.  I turn, sure she's seriously injured herself.  No.  She has realized that her nails, painted a week ago, are no longer nicely painted.  Before we can leave the house we must paint her nails. (Really?!)

We make it to the pool.  We swim, then we throw on clothes and go into the club for dinner.  Our club is very casual, and I really did just throw clothes on and run my fingers through my hair.  Part way through dinner Henni looks at me and denounces my hair.  

And so their own selves emerge and I am excited, yet terrified, of things to come.

And so I turn to pictures of our recent escapades.  Escapades which do show their personalities, but which also show me that they are still really little, lovely, children.