It's getting cold

Gene was walking home from the public library the other day when a Siamese kitten began following him. A mile later, the kitty was still at his heels, so he invited it into our house. The girls were napping when the duo made it home. They awoke to a dream come true, their very own kitty cat.
"See you later," Clara tells Meowy when she leaves the kitty in the kitchen and joins me on the couch to read a book. "I'm going over here now." "Kitty cat, kitty cat," Margaret whispers to the kitty as she kneels beside the kitten at her water dish. Margaret sometimes will touch the kitty gently on the back.
Lucky for us, this cat tolerates a grabbing kind of petting. When things get a little too close for her, Meowy jumps away and disappears through the gate on the stairs. She likes to sleep under Gene's desk on a pile of papers. I'm just happy she doesn't scratch. I've been awakened the last two mornings at 5 a.m. by a mewing kitten, whose face has been right up next to mine. I'm not sure what she wants, but I have gotten up, made coffee and petted her. Maybe she just wants some company.
We had a breakthrough on Sunday. Margaret went to the church nursery on her own, thanks to the patient understanding of Donna, the wonderful director. Donna has been very kind and friendly to Margaret. Just waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to come back to the nursery. There are all sorts of exciting toys there, like a dishwasher and a play ironing board, plus all sorts of blocks. And eventually, Margaret had to return. There were no tears, just a declaration, "Margaret stay with Donna," and off I went, relieved.
On Sunday afternoon we walked to Five Points, our nearby commercial district. There was a Christmas open house, yes, way before Thanksgiving. One business was giving away ice cream (we all had some with sprinkles) and someone had paid to have free pony rides. Margaret got on a pony three times, and she would have happily stayed there most of the evening. Clara became concerned that the pony might bite her and rode only once. But fearless Margaret rode on and on.

November

I have now been home full-time for two months. During that time, I've noticed a few interesting developmental changes about Clara and Margaret. Each is talking better and clearer. Margaret seems more Mama-centric, but also happier and less anxious about new situations. Clara's sentence construction is getting more and more complex.
Here are some of her favorite words and phrases:
"I don't care who started it," from the book David at School.
Actually and incidentally.
Today she said, "I'm a person who likes hot papoosas." (a Salvadorean stuffed pancake that Roxy makes.)
"Okay, that's it," from my saying that after counting to three.
"Oh, my goodness gosh!" combining two of my expressions. And one I wish she didn't parrot, "Forget it."
Margaret has taken to saying, "Nope, uh-uh," something I didn't realize I did until Gene pointed it out to me. She also has started saying, "Opps!" to whatever makes a mistake, falls or messes up. "Opps, milk!" if her sippy cup falls off her high chair tray. "Opps, car," if an oncoming car seems to come too close to ours. And the ever popular, "Opps, Mama," whenever I mess up.
We are not winning the diaper wars. Clara has taken her position on a hill and is now digging a deeper foxhole. Make that a WW I trench. Not for love, money or chocolate will she use the potty or the big toilet with a padded insert that's just her size.
So I'm now following a book, since my mother isn't here to help me. I've ordered some training pants, all cotton, so the girls can feel what it's like to have wet diapers. The disposable diapers are so good now that no one has the sensation of being wet. I plan to keep them home for a few days, to keep them off the furniture and to keep them close to the bathrooms. And to put them on a schedule.
I can't remember if I noted that Clara confided to me, "Tita and Clara had a dissussion and we decided we prefer our diapers." Oh, I said, did you vote? What were the other options? And where, I wondered, did she learn to use 'prefer?' I tried not to laugh, because she was very serious. At times, she will obviously be having some action, and I will gently lead her toward the bathroom, at which time she says, "Oh, that's okay, I'll just go in my diapers." Anyone who can verbalize about her body functions needs to be acting more like an adult, seems to me.
Besides, a box of diapers costs twenty to twenty three dollars, and we go through one box a week. I can't bear to think about how much we have spent the last three years on diapers alone.
The girls have come to love their routine activities, which have expanded with me at home. We walk to Earthfare and get a muffin and sit outside and eat it. We go to our neighborhood pharmacy and eat at the lunch counter, the only place that Clara is getting bacon these days. We ride the university bus downtown and get out and run errands, their favorite activity. We go visiting people on our street. Our friend Peter is disabled. His mother knitted an entire farm---a flat surface with different environments, plus all the barnyard animals and their friends---and we go to his house and play with the farm. We go to the library and get as many books as Mama can carry.
For Halloween, they wore traditional Chinese holiday costumes a friend's mom brought from China. Silk with elaborate embroidery, just beautiful things, coats and pants and caps. We went to a few houses, where friends gave them little cars, peanuts, pencils, playdough, some chocolate and glow-in-the-dark bracelets (which are very cool). They couldn't quite understand what was going on, but have asked a few times since if they can put on their costumes again and go visiting.
I'm working on a kid's book--actually, a book for Clara. I figure if I can interest her, another child will also like it. It's fun regardless.