The beginning of the end of innocence?

Miles and Eliza had a roaring good joke going between them at dinner last night.

Miles: (in that na-na-nany booboo sing-song tune cherished by children all over the world) Eliza is a caca. (laughter)

Eliza: Miles is a caca. (laughter)

Miles: Eliza is a caca. (laughter)

Eliza: Miles is a caca. (and so ad infinitum)

Me: Children, we do not talk about caca at the table.

Miles: (in an almost teenager-like sarcastic tone with an indulgent little chuckle): Sure, Mom. We NEVER talk about caca at the table.

...it was only a matter of time given his Brigham blood. Of course, mother that I am, it was all I could do to stifle my appreciative giggle.

The Usual Stuff

Miles and Eliza have their own "language" of things that crack each other up or incite pandaemonium or refer to some kind of pretend game or whatever. I have failed to get it on video, and writing it out doesn't capture the tone which is half of it. Often it's a phrase they say together over and over like a chant. Here are a few attempts at getting it. 

They were chanting it up in the car while I was driving, but when I stopped Eliza was too preoccupied with getting out of the car to do it again.

Language creation in action.

An oldie but goodie...

Haircuts and Island of Flies

Miles told me the other day that when Addy Daddy hugged him good-bye at the airport, he said, You still need a haircut. And I had to admit, he was right. Miles's shaggy, cool haircut just didn't fit his straight hair. And Eliza's "do" required barrettes at all times or else it was in her face. Almost every day Eliza would rip out her hairbands at school. It just wasn't working. Without Fe here in the mornings to do her thing, the only alternative seemed to be -- bangs.

So weekend before last, both the kids got cuts. M's is more conservative. No more sideburns. But he looks cuter, less shagged out, more his age. I was a tad shaken at the site of Eliza with bangs. It appears as though her baby blond is disappearing the way Miles's did. Now it's just long on the sides, like a flapper from the 20s.

Any guesses as to why I took this photo?

 She just decided the other day that she wanted Henry down from his protected post, and she carried him around for days. Luckily, it didn't last too long or else he'd need another surgery. 

The need for baby doll fell away soon after we returned to Amman, due probably to its temporary misplacement. She never really took a shine to the new one, though she plays with both of them a lot. The old one (a hand-me-down from Samantha) went missing for a few weeks in February. (It was at a friend's house.) It was a quiet withdrawal. Eliza would ask for her baby and look around, but she never really fell to pieces in desperation (which she is apt to do these days over the tiniest of incidences, i.e. she wanted to flush the toilet herself!!!). One morning (she was in bed with us again), she said upon waking in a very calm tone of realization and acceptance: I lost my baby doll. I almost cried. But baby doll is back.

Here's Miles at violin last week. (I love his teacher. She's Cuban.)

Here's some typical play between the kids. Miles focused on creating his fantasy; Eliza along for the ride. You can imagine why Eliza's vocabulary includes such words as Saturn, annihilate, and capture. (This was pre-haircut. You see the problem.) 

M:  ...to save the island from bad...all the flies hunt...they get in the island...they get past the rivers...and the sharks...

E:   What's the ?? ...take the bugs?

M:  and they attack the flies with their energy...

E:  why?

M:  to keep you away from the flies...to keep you away from the flies...

M: ...and away...keep them away to the flies...don't know that the ?? do to them...they eat...

E:  Let me see. that.

M: they eat their island and they eat and they eat their island. They're eating the island of flies.

E:  They're eating the island of flies? ...yuck.