The kids have been very good about playing with each other — without me — this week.

The other day, Grace was picking Connor up, hoisting him from under his arms, and he’d wrap his legs around her waist while she walked over to the footstool. She’d drop him on the footstool, he’d laugh, say “again again” and she’d do it again. I’m not sure how long this lasted — until Grace said “my arms are gettin’ tired.” I told Mark about it and he said they had done it for almost an hour the night before. (I’m still amazed she can lift him at all, much less repeatedly.)

Yesterday, they were in their bedroom, where a big box and Grace’s Dora couch are set up as a little fort. When they came down, I asked Connor where he got the nuk in his mouth. He took it out to show me it. Grace grabbed it and said I found it on the floor and I gave it to him, like this (She put it in his mouth and he laughed) because we were playing “nighttime, morning, nighttime, morning.” Oh, ok then.

Tonight, Mark reports that they are playing in the playroom together. I ask what they are doing. “Who knows. But Connor got into the markers earlier and I cleaned it up.” …. I’m quite surprised that the little tattletale didn’t holler about this one as soon as it happened. Or maybe she did; I guess Mark didn’t specify how he found out about it.