The Fox is an injury prone little dude. Much like his dad. Tom's mom told me he'd been in the ER some ridiculously huge number of times before he was two. Were we prone to thinking that might actually do some good (not a big fan of our local ER I must say - they've been extremely unimpressive), Sawyer might've been in a few times...

Yesterday he bit his tongue and he bit it hard. Slipped from his stool and bam, mouthfuls of blood. He's had a few good shiners (and given me at least a couple as well, the last one just disappeared), a bandana arc of bruises generally across his forehead, and some minor injury on one or both of his hands. "He's an active one" been-there-done-that older parents say, pityingly. But he's a blast, truly. Loves the dog, loves his sister, adores his papa, loves me plenty. Always smiling, usually while doing something naughty. He's got the most hilarious little run, from his hips - as though he hasn't yet realized that those quads can do the work of lifting the leg. And he runs everywhere, so we laugh at his special little signature movement all day long.

I was looking at pictures of Jordan this morning, trying to clear space off the hard drive but totally, irrationally unable to delete copies of pictures I have actual hard copies of - their youth is just so damn fleeting! Such different children, but both possessed with the same total joy in being. Maybe it's all kids, but these ones just grab hold of each minute. Jordan's been in a wonderful place for a while - loves school, loves ballet, loves swimming. She's learning so much,. advancing so quickly with her studying, and yet is still so... free - she's not trying to grow up fast, her appetite for everything is so huge. She wakes up in the morning and wants to do "a job" - practicing writing, drawing, painting, cutting, dressing up. She hasn't wanted a video for a long time - too stagnant. Sawyer adores her, follows her, grabs her toys, her work, tries to get her attention by bugging her as only younger siblings can. She's a very directed learner, and he's a wanderer. She walks with purpose, he wanders one direction, looking the other, and collides with life - thankfully with humor mostly. Sometimes there's blood. Stealthy, though, that boy. He is quiet like a fox, sneaks outside (usually with something he's not supposed to have) and runs.

Jordan needs to be in constant dialogue during the day. Such the bug, the constant buzzing that happens with that one. Her vocabulary overwhelms me so often that I forget to remember certain instances and am more just generally bowled over these days - I'd better start writing things down. When she doesn't know the definition of a word,she makes it up herself. Last week, "international" was a noun. Something to drink, I think, and then something else - oh yes, an adjective. "Have an international day," she told me. I'd like to, that's for sure. I tried a few times to tell her what it meant, but she wasn't in the mood for what I had to say. She's drawing pictures now - people in triangle dresses, animals with ears. "Guess what it is", she says, and it seems so dangerous to answer - I was always so sadly unconfident an artist. She's been sending pictures to a 5 year old boy, Hayden. He's someone we love, a boy with beautiful manners and a happy, peaceful presence. We met them at a friend's house for dinner and he'd brought along a valentine for her. Parenting is so bizarre - you want them to stay small, but you can't wait for the next surprise of what they'll do, how who they are will emerge. We can't stop ourselves from wanting to stay with her in her room while she falls asleep, wanting to go to Sawyer when he first cries and snuggle with him for a half an hour. Every day is like the last day of a vacation that you don't want to end. (I say this even after Sawyer barfed all over me and himself and the floor in a Jamba Juice last Friday.) They're at such good ages. Even though Sawyer screams anytime he wants something and we keep trying to get him to say more or please or down or food. Even though Jordan gets waylaid by her imagination on the nine steps down the hall to her room for socks and emerges five minutes later in costume instead of simply with socks on so we can get to school for once on time, dammit. They are good eggs. Or bugs. Or foxes.

Have an International Day.