The twins' vocabulary (and especially Molly's) has taken a real leap recently. Among her favourite phrases are 'Shoes on!' and 'sit down', she's becoming a real little parrot, which means I'm really going to have to start watching my language (oops, yes, my toddler swore, please don't judge me too harshly). Gareth has his own name for his sister, and it's sweet to hear him call for 'Mamu'. When I get home from work, its to the fantastic welcome of my little boy pointing to me and yelling 'Mama! There you!' He also tries to sing the theme tune from a kids show they like, and 'Row, row, row, boat!'
They're shoes were getting a little tight, and a little worse for wear, so we took them to get some new ones. My mum very generously gave us a gift card for a shoe shop. My mum always bought my siblings and I Clark's shoes, and I intend on doing the same with my kids. I'm happy enough for them to have cheaper shoes once their feet have been measured, for playing about in the garden, etc, but overall, I think its important to have their 'main shoes' as good quality ones that have been properly fitted, so Clarks it is.
Gareth was totally underwhelmed by the whole shoe-shopping experience, so I just chose the pair of ankle boots he seemed most comfy in. Molly loved it, she sat in the stroller, and stuck her foot out, exclaiming 'Shoes!' She chose hers (I gave a choice of 2 different ankle boots for her) and is delighted with her shoes with the 'Nice flowers!' She loves them so much, that she asks to put them on as soon as she wakes up, even if she's still wearing her pyjamas. She can also put on her own trousers, and has also managed to put on her Thomas the Tank Engine Slippers (or the Toot-Toot Shoes as they are fondly called). Gareth, nope, will rarely even give it a go. The other day my husband asked him to try and put his shoes on - Gareth just pointed at me and said 'Mama! Shoes!' Ah well, they do say girls are a bit more independent. He's a very sweet boy, although the other day, I could have done without him deciding he wanted rid of the stray oatcake crumb that was on his tongue, and grabbing my hand and licking it to dislodge the offending morsel. There's one they don't mention in the parenting manuals.
So life ticks on as it should. We made it to Confession and Mass on Saturday evening for the first time in weeks. It was good, even if I spent half the Mass chasing Gareth around the porch. It's getting better, he's able to sit for a little longer each time, and I'm more accepting of when he's reached his limit. Molly kneels and clasps her hands during the consecration, it's very sweet. For all their noise and munty-bagging, they charm the socks off of most people who see them. When confession was over, and the Priest went to prepare for Mass, they were waving and calling 'Bye Bye!'
I have made the Christmas cake, and gave it it's first feeding of Port, one of my favourite jobs, and a sign that autumn is slowly turning to winter. A sign, along with the clocks going back, that it's time to set something nourishing to simmer on the stove, to fill your house with delicious smells, to snuggle down, breathe in warm fragrant steam, and wrap your hands around something cosy...
But that, my dears, is a story for another day.