Bucket brigade

There's a serious drought going on in Georgia. To save water, we have started bathing the girls in sheet rock buckets. We fill them halfway and they get in and soak, much like a Japanese tub. The water goes over their shoulders so they're warm. Margaret likes to hold a bath toy under the water and then produce it, with a smile of Ta, Da! Clara is more interested in having more and more soap squirted out into her hand. We know Margaret is happier with this arrangement because she is secure and mostly out of reach from Clara. She will happily sit in the warm water until she's a little white prune. Though Clara does still try to wash Margaret. Gene bought a windup fish for the bath, but Clara is afraid of it, so she likes it mostly in Margaret's bucket. Clara is also afraid of a small remote controlled car that Margaret loves. "Tiene miedo," Clara says, speaking of herself in the third person as she often does. Both girls look so funny in their buckets, like they are adorable home improvement products you can purchase at Lowe's. The sad thing is that Margaret is growing so tall that soon she won't be able to fit into her bucket!

Cat Chase

Clara in the Wagon

In the Closet

Miss Big

We have many nicknames for Margaret: Tita, Ticky Tick, Miss T, and, of course, Miss Peg. I'm trying to call her plain old Margaret and not to get sucked into the nickname thing before she has a chance to name herself. Clara, on the other hand, has titles, not nicknames. Such as, The Police, The Boss, Miss Boss, Miss Big, and The Manager. My parents used to joke how everyone needed a supervisor. Well, Clara fills the bill.
If Margaret is doing something she shouldn't, say, going toward a fan with her index finger pointed, Clara will yell, "No, no, Tita!" Once when Margaret was standing in her crib, pulling on the window blinds, Clara rushed into the room, pushed the crib away from the window and wagged her finger at Margaret, while bellowing, "No, no, Tita." At night, once, when Margaret awoke, crying, on the monitor I could hear Clara admonishing her with, "No, cry, Tita, no cry." As my cousin Peggy pointed out, if Margaret would only submit to Clara's will and wishes, things would go smoothly. But Miss Peg has a mind of her own and submission isn't on her agenda.
We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Almost completely. My brother Mark came, as did our friends Stu and Granna. Our neighbor Joan came for a glass of wine and a piece of pumpkin pie that I had made the day before. We were sitting at the table, just tucking into our pie. The girls were in their high chairs, having eaten a variety of T-day foods. When Clara threw a metal spoon, shattering Joan's wine glass. Glass went everywhere, including into the pumpkin pie and on the plates of those people who had pieces there. Only Mark was confident enough to eat his pie. It was a memorable end to the meal. Clara was shocked. She has now been restricted to a diet of plastic spoons....no more metal for her for months.
She also told me recently how she views herself. "Mama, big," she said. "Daddy, big. Me, big. Tita, baby." When she looks at books, Clara usually points to girls who are about 10 and says, "Me." Margaret is always a lap baby, one who's crying. If that's Clara's outlook, no wonder she wants to manage Margaret. She's just doing everyone a favor by taking care of a baby.

The Girls and the Meow

Birthday Cake