Yesterday was one of those days where it felt like there were lots of new things going on. (How appropriate for Easter, yes?) It wasn't actually the girls' first Easter, but it was the first one we celebrated. We went to church in the morning, and in the afternoon, the girls partook in their first-ever (chocolate) egg hunt. This was totally a last-minute, minimalist effort -- I'd picked up two baskets and a couple of bags of chocolate eggs at CVS the day before. But the girls loved it.
I feel like it was the first holiday activity we've done with them where they seemed less like"babies," being dragged along for the ride (say Trick or Treat! Open your present! Etc.), and more like kids. When Clio first came down the back porch stairs, she spotted a chocolate egg, picked it up and said "Where did that come from?" (One of her new favorite expressions). Once we gave them their baskets and explained what they were supposed to do, they "got it" immediately, running around the yard and scooping up eggs, each time shouting "I found another egg!" And, like true kids, they were NOT happy when, after they'd each had some chocolate, I put their candy away to be doled out over the next few days (and eaten by me. Ha). In fact, there was a brief but intense crying jag until I distracted them with the idea of going around the living room and "finding" toys to put in their baskets. Of course, with older kids, this diversion technique never would have worked.
The girls also moved into their first home -- of the play-variety, that is: a playhouse, complete with toy phone, doorbell, sink (as Clio pointed out repeatedly), faux fireplace, and working, lion's head fountain in the wall next to the door. It's called the "old world" cottage or something. Really, you'd swear it was plucked right out of Italy or Southern France. That is, if it weren't made of molded plastic andonly four-feet square. (Details, details). Anyway, the girls were totally thrilled when, at last, we'd finished putting the thing together and they could go inside. Elsa gave many of her signature squeals of delight. I love that.
We bought the thing new, which I'm a little bummed about. When it comes to large plastic things, I really prefer to buy them second-hand. I don't like encouraging the production of still more large, plastic things. But our Craigslist effort failed miserably (after we'd already recruited friends and their trailer to help us out) and we're too impatient to keep trolling for another option, and this particular playhouse was on sale. We also figured it will be a damned long time before we can ever take the girls to Europe, much less rent a cottage with a lion's head fountain, so this really is the next best thing. So, if spring ever truly springs (it continues to be awfully chilly here in the northeast) the girls are going to have some kickass backyard days. Next goal: a sandbox. I'd like to avoid a plastic one, if possible, so the mister and I may attempt to build one ourselves. That should be comical, to say the least.
The other first? Clio asked to pee in the potty, and did. Elsa accomplished this feat exactly once, back in January, but this was Clio's first successful, intentional potty endeavor. We are all very proud.
Before I go, just wanted to put in a plug for my friend Anna Solomon's excellent piece in yesterday's New York Times magazine -- a funny personal essay about her experience with the "three-month itch" that she got when her daughter was around three months old; in the haze and fatigue of new motherhood, she found herself suddenly thinking a lot about her exes. I myself did not experience this phenomenon; when I get an "itch" it's generally for people in the past that I crushed on but never dated. Or Matt Damon. But check it out -- I'm sure some of you out there will be able to relate.
