Summer is here and this means the sun is more intense, the humidity is borderline unbearable, thunderstorms several times a week, and mosquitoes lurk behind every leaf ready to suck our blood...  so we spend less time outdoors. But the dudes are not quite old enough for activities such as coloring, play-dough, television, and what-not. So they sometimes get a little whiney about being stuck indoors.

Benjamin was toddling/whining around the house this morning after we got back from our crack-of-dawn (9am) walk.  So I just put him in his crib with Shirt. He was in heaven. He read, he talked, he lolled around sucking his thumb – all this for a good half an hour. Jonah, meanwhile, was happy to play by himself with his toys in our spankin’ new living room.

But then it was a little too quiet. Jonah and I went to check on Benjamin. The little punk had fallen asleep! I put Jonah in the crib to wake him up and then they played for another half an hour in the crib, happy as can be.

I find it a little odd that they prefer to be in their cribs so much. Do I: (a) worry about the mental health of my children or (b) accept this stage as a gift from God? Currently I’m doing both.

But due to that illicit nap, Benjamin has been carrying on a tyrannosaurus monologue for over an hour instead of taking his nap. He’s perfectly happy -- just screeching, yipping, yelping, hissing, blowing (he just learned to blow), and growling.

And now he’s making himself giggle sporadically. Sheesh. I think I’m leaning more towards (a) above.

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After reading this article about FreeBirthing – mothers gleefully catching their own babies at birth, etc. – I wonder if I am in fact the only mother who remembers precious little of their babies’ birth and wouldn’t have it any other way?! 

Congratulations to Amber, who won the Father’s Day Polo GiveAway! Your shirt goes out in tomorrow’s mail!

And speaking of mail, I bought some of the new Star Wars stamps this morning.... cool!

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Age sixteen months must be about when vehicle obsessions begin in boys. Every airplane, every truck, every bus, etc. must be acknowledged and identified by me after being pointed out by one or both boys. In fact, they will point and grunt continuously and have borderline panic attacks until I talk about it.

Which leads me to ponder this existential question for a moment: do vehicles actually exist at all unless I acknowledge them? [It’s very Zen.... I know.]