Well C and T are gone. I drove them to the airport this morning, all by myself! Yes, this included crossing the border with my NEW GREEN CARD!! I was all concerned that the crossing would take hours for no reason other than I worry about stuff like that and (as Aaron predicted) both crossings took about 2 minutes. I still got all nervous and twitchy though. I think maybe my fear of border crossings is a direct result of my dad's intense lectures all through childhood of NOT TALKING, SINGING OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM, sneezing, giggling , looking cross eyed, slouching, arguing, reading, listing to music etc while crossing. And border guards look so mean. Seriously, if I met them on the sidewalk I would NOT make eye contact, I would even think about crossing the street only I wouldn't because I wouldn't want them to know I was scared and then have them prey on me. That's also how I reacted mean looking, stinking smelling people on the bus in my home town. No eye contact and a desperate wish to be somewhere else.
I love Canadian stores. Jacob and RW&Co. I miss them. My wallet doesn't though. Neither does my husband's wallet. I got to go there during my five hours in Canada!! AND THE JACOB OUTLET I WENT TO WAS CLOSING DOWN AND I GOT 70% OFF OF SALE PRICES. 22 bucks and 6 shirts later!
So dropping C and T off at the airport. T (a 2 year old) was pushing his stroller slloooowwly into security and had to give it up to the scanner. Screaming commenced with outstretched arms attempting to encourage said stroller to return to him. There was no way he was leaving the scene of the last sighting of said stroller. He was NOT. GOING. TO. LEAVE. So the airport people got C to go through the metal detector first and then they all attempted waving various items belonging to T in front of the metal detector to get him to walk through. It was like what a mouse trap must look like to observing mice. T did not bite till they waved the stroller. Screaming stopped.
We had fun while they were here. Some instances follow:
T likes being read to. His favorite book while he was here was a hard cover book of different types of trucks. One million different types. Of which every one had to be read then parroted. (Excavator, excavator, dump truck, dump truck, cement truck, cement truck, semi, semi, bulldozer, bulldozer....) Somehow it was enjoyable. Maybe because his fuzzy little head was so close and smelt so babyish.
We only have a shower. T hates showers. So we filled the top of a rubbermaid with water and T bathed in there. He hated it. But he cuddled afterwards!
T helping me make cookies (and whenever I neglected to say, "Good job!" after each cookie was scooped on to the pan he said it for me.)
T playing it up while eating his beans. He had us all in stitches.
C does dishes. I do not have a dishwasher.
C lets me talk, she listens.
C likes shopping.
C played games with me (settlers of catan card game for 2 people and ticket to ride).
T saying "Auntie".