Spider Power

Anika is part spider.

Today, she helped herself to a band-aid. Which resides in a box on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in the master bathroom. A top shelf that I have to stand on my tip-toes to reach. There was no evidence of a chair or a step-stool, and when I asked how she got the band-aid, she said, nonchalantly, 'I climbed up there.' No surprise, really, since she can scale the dishwasher and the refrigerator to get at things I like to hide from them, like Altoids and Oreo cookies.

Reni likes to climb things, too, but he's more Incredible Hulk style, all brawn and strewing-things-about. He likes to throw something that stains, splatters, or shatters from high-up places when adults are not looking. He's also starting to rip up his books, just like Anika used to do, except entirely different. Whereas Anika would rip pieces in varying sizes, studying them carefully and then asking for the tape to help 'fix' the book (a game that got the veto almost immediately, because it obviously resulted in a lot of ripped books), Reni likes to make his own expensive confetti, and jump and dance around amidst what used to be his favorite book. "I was very naughty," he will tell you. He emptied out half of his new tube of toothpaste onto the new carpet in his room, leaving neon glittering blue splotches everywhere in a house I'm supposed to have show-ready for potential buyers. He's also discovering that going pee-pee in the potty (we are at about 60% success rate at the moment) can also mean play time with a very interesting hose. Last Thursday, he rain into the parking lot at school and almost got hit by a car. Two and three-quarters is a very rough age, but he knows just when to turn on the charm and be absolutely, breathtakingly wonderful.

Today, I came home to a very disheveled looking babysitter. "Man, they were tough to handle today," she admitted. We let her out the door (she was practically running) and Reni turns to me and says, "Mama, you're my best friend. I was waiting for you."