Two mornings in a row this week D1 needed CPR (that would be a Critical Potty Run) right while I was feeding D2 his breakfast. Two mornings in a row I set the bowl of food down on his tray without realizing it, and returned several minutes later to find the food still on the tray. And on his shirt. And down inside the chair. And on the floor.
This morning, however, was different. Instead of being up at the crack of dawn asking for breakfast, she still hadn't uttered a peep until after D2 was finished with his meal. I went in to check on her and discovered that I had left a book within reach of her crib and she had pulled it in and was quietly reading. I don't think she got switched at the hospital.
Maybe I'll set a nice selection on her dresser and see if my mornings aren't a little calmer.
D2 has mastered the army crawl and now has perpetual rug burns on his arms and legs from doing it too fast. He seems determined to skin his nose on the patio before he even learns to walk. D1, who a few months ago wanted to have her hand held and preferrably be carried at every opportunity, now pulls her hand down to her side and says, "D1 walk by 'elf." It's a little sad, but not very.