Every so often, about once a week, I like to ask Wren some questions about her understanding of God. Usually, I’m met with a blank stare and a responding question about goldfish or pretzels. However, we’ve been making progress.
Last week, I asked her “Do you know who God is?” She replied, “God is.” I commented that her answer was more profound than she realized and then I’m pretty sure she asked for the iPad.
Then we had the sweetest exchange last night.
Me: Do you know who lives in space?
She: Outer space?
Me: Yes, do you know who lives in outer space?
She: [No response.]
Me: Do astronauts live in outer space?
Me: Do aliens live in outer space?
Me: Well, then. Who lives in outer space?
She: The planets.
Me: Did you know that we live on planet Earth? And God made the Earth. And God made the moon, the planets and outer space. God made mommy, and God made Wren.
She: God made daddy?
Me: Yes, He did.
She: God made Fauna (her name for Chickadee)?
Me: Yes, He did.
She: God made Susie (our dog)?
Me: Yes, He did.
She: God made the car?
Me: Yes, he made the ore and man processed those materials, and the fossil fuels which run the car.
She: [No response]
Well, it’s a start anyway.
Like most babies, Wren has fallen in love with the phrase “uh oh.”
As I was getting ready this morning, she was happily playing in her crib. I overheard her say “uh oh” really loudly but didn’t think anything of it since “uh oh” is only used correctly less than half of the time. Most of the time she just repeats it to make her daddy laugh.
Well, when I entered her room, I noticed that the hair clip she had been playing with this morning was on the floor beside her crib. Handing the clip back to her I said, “So I guess there was something behind your ‘uh oh.'” She quickly responded by throwing her clip onto her nightstand while cheerfully saying “uh oh!” This was followed by a quieter and sadder “uh oh.”
This post is dedicated to the man my daughter calls “Dad!”
Happy Father’s Day
I have learned a couple of ways to get my mutt Susie into the kitchen. Neither require me to call her name.
- I just need to peel a banana. It doesn’t matter where in the house my mutt is napping, she will come into the kitchen expecting me to give her a portion of my banana.
- I just need to put Wren into her highchair. Susie will race in and immediately start “cleaning” the floors by the time Wren is strapped in.
These two are finally becoming best friends. On Monday, they were actually playing fetch. Wren would throw the tennis ball down the hallway, and Susie would retrieve it. Wren would just smile and laugh at this new game, and both were probably enjoying the attention. I am so happy for them to reach this point.
Wren is curious and determined which means she can get about anywhere she wants. She crawls. (I didn’t even know speed crawling was possible until she showed me that it was.) She cruises along furniture. She can even stand on her own for a few seconds.
She’s started to rotate while standing. I don’t think she means to take steps by herself, and she startles herself down to the floor often. She walks with a wheeled toy quite naturally, though, so I think walking will happen before too long.
It seems like that top tooth has been trying to cut through for the past four weeks. Sleeping through the night is almost a forgotten memory.
Wren babbles a lot. She seems to say “mama,” “dada,” and “baybay.” She makes kissing sounds, “mwah mwah mwah,” all day long. She’ll even go “mama mama mwah baybay.” I doubt that she’s really saying a sentence, yet my heart melts.
She still eats her puréed foods and rice cereals, and we’ve introduced her to chicken. She’ll also eat mushy peas and sliced bananas with her fingers. So it’s not a surprise that her best friend is Susie. Dropping food, and even outright giving it to the dog, has improved their relationship considerably.
Despite all the signs that my baby girl is growing up, she still refuses to drink from the sippy cup or to hold the bottle herself. I enjoy our snuggle times during feeding, and I am grateful that I don’t have to give that up just yet.
Now, this is my kind of Easter basket. Wren at four weeks: