-not sure if Gianni is blessing his friend, Quinn, petting him like he does Milo, admiring his coiffure, or elevating him to the status of knight-
-cousins at Christmas time-
-Gianni resorts to surrender and torture by tickling after a game of chase with Mommy-
You may notice that the photo of the girls isn't the most recent, but strangely enough there are lots of new pictures of the youngest monster and none at all of the Firstborn or the Middler. This is strange because, as anyone with more than 1 child knows, the first is spoiled rotten, the next is spoiled but not excessively, the third is lost a bit in the shuffle, and so on and so forth. With Cora we took photo after photo, lovingly recording every feeding, smile, burp, laugh, haircut, holidays, vacations, change of clothes, bathtimes, mealtimes, sleeptimes, rolling over times, colorful bowel movements, well, you get the idea. Now, Anna was born a scant 18 months later and we were a bit more forgetful about things like putting batteries in the camera or remembering where we left the camera last, or actually owning a camera. But here and there we hastily scribbled cute things in her baby book and if there are a few pictures that may be Cora and not in fact, Anna, well, everyone says they look alike so who's gonna argue with the name on the back of the snapshot? Now the only thing that is saving Gianni from complete and total lack of personalized memorabilia, it's that he was born 6 years later to parents who had forgotten how fun babies could be. So yes, there are photos of him at most every stage. No video however and the baby book has a thick, protective layer of dust, but we mostly know where he is at all times, his middle name, and if we have to think real hard about birthdates, well, attribute it to old age on our part.
Oh by the way, if you get a phone call from someone with a high squeaky voice asking you if you ordered a large garlic and pepperoni pizza... it's Anna. And she will be grounded.
In other news, we have decided to quit tormenting the child care workers at both our church and the YMCA. Those poor people do not get paid enough (and in the case of the former, their reward is in heaven, and hopefully a long way off) to watch our grumpy little gnome. The wailing is hard on their ears and the turning blue/passing out is hard on their nervous systems so we're letting them off the hook. He can sit in service with us, sticking pencils in our shoes, flirting with the preacher's wife, scooting under pews, contributing loudly with the sermon, and in general forcing us all to patiently recall the scriptures about letting little children come to Jesus. As far as the YMCA goes, there will be no more sneaking out of the house without the moppets (yeah, yeah, I heard ya, Dad) so I guess I'll just get fat. We'll try the whole tough love thing again in a month or two, but in the meantime G. can party to his little heart's content and so can the babysitters.
Oh, and if anyone has a surefire way to memorize the times tables, please let me know. Cora knows a lot of fun and interesting and little known facts, but the pluttification tables (shout out to Pippi there!) is not one of them.