Don't brush your brother

It's funny the things you say when you have kids. I had finished Gabe's haircut and was working on Matt's and I turned around and Gabe is using the hair whisk to brush Chi, and I said, "Don't brush your brother." Then not five minutes later I turn around and say, "Where's your underwear?" He had been down to his underwear because his clothes had hair all over them, but then there he was running around, doing somersaults, naked as a jay-bird. Kids may say the darndest things, but they definitely get you to say some weird things too.

Both boys had their check-ups today; each had shots. Chi took his better, calmed down faster, but was still wanted to be held and cuddled all day long. Gabe cried and cried and cried, and said he never wanted to go to the doctors office again, but by the time he finished his hearing test which he thought was a fun game, he was fine. Not fun overall, but the doctor's office gave Gabe a book, sticker and sucker. Both boys are short, but otherwise healthy.

Our house keeps getting more and more labeled. We have words on everything so Gabe can learn how to spell/read. So our walls say wall, doors say door, etc. Each night lately Gabe adds about five or six more words. The room I'm a bit worried about is the bathroom, you know, water hazard. I suppose we could laminate them. But in any case, it seems to be working. We point out the words and ask what they say and he tells us, then later we write the word down and see if he knows. He's getting a few of them.