Feed Me Protein!

Yesterday I got off work early and took the kids to meet up with Joni and her kids at Butler University, where we hiked around the woods and played in the botanical gardens. The kids had a lot of fun jumping off rocks, catching guppies in the pond, and exploring the woods. On the drive home, Isabella was starving, so I fed her some leftover pasta as soon as we got home. Dante ate some too and I ate a leftover brat from our cookout the night before. We also ate grapes. In my mind, we had just had an early, light dinner, and would probably snack on something later. This summer I've been intentionally eschewing large, cooked dinners for sandwiches and simpler foods, so that we have more time to play and work in the garden and do other things besides cook and eat and wash dishes.

Isabella, however, is having a hard time recognizing when we've eaten what I consider a meal. She considers it a snack and expects a full meal later.

Last night I was sitting on the couch, nursing Dante, and talking to Joni on the phone. Isabella came over and announced that she was starving and needed to eat. I told her I'd fix her something as soon as I finished what I was doing.

She said, dramatically, "Mommy, I'm hungry! I want dinner! I need protein! FEED ME PROTEIN!"

I Love You Forty-Two and a Half

Dante's favorite number is nine. Always has been. When someone asks him how old he is, he says, "Nine!" (To much laughter.) Isabella is currently in the "half" stage, as in it is vitally important whether someone is "only" an age or an age "and a half." She is five and half. Her best friend Kirstin in "only six." She will even refer to when she was "zero and a half."

A couple of days ago I lay Dante on the changing table to change his diaper and he announced, "Mommy, I two and a half!"

I said, "You are! You're two and a half!"

He smiled and said, "I love you two and a half."

I said, "Aww... you love me two and a half?"

He said, "I love you nine!"

Taking that to mean that he loves me a lot, I said, "I love you nine, too."

He scrunched up his face at me in derision and said, "You not nine!"

I laughed and said, "No, I love you forty-two and a half."