And She Crawls...

I've been a horrible blogger (yes, I too am making this statement. I'm joining the club). In fact, it is so bad I've decided to go old school and invest in a leather journal to capture little moments.

Like William on Saturday. We were at the church playground playing with his tricycle, and he's still not quite big enough to push the pedals. After many tries interrupted by playtime on the swings and slides, he peered up at me with his youth-sized helmet on and said very seriously and matter-of-factly, "I'm too big." When I then started pushing him as fast as I could he said, "be careful."

What kid is that? Be careful? Not my William. But then, it is. Because William has also started to have a fear of loud noises. He melted down last weekend when I pulled out the vacuum cleaner and has had some moments with the new Harley firing up next door. My little fence-climbing* daredevil is starting to show fear. On occasion.

But I digress. Here's the big news. We're calling it. Tate is now crawling. I never really thought she would. And I'll be honest, she's still more interested in trying to pull up than she is in propelling across the floor. But, if you put just the right toy out of her reach, she's moving towards it.

Mark said that she moves with a purpose, whereas Will would crawl just to see what was around the corner. I think that's true. I can't wait to see how those differences in personality play out over time.

Meanwhile, here are some photos of Tater** playing at the playground. You'll see the grass and clover she pulled. The reason it's there? Because she was able to crawl and reach it.

*That's right. Will is a climber. He's sporting a huge scratch on his leg from attempting to scale the playground fence at daycare. He gashed it when it was pulled back over from the top, for the record. He was promptly moved to the next classroom the week of "fencegate." Ahead of Vivian (who is 3 months older). His new teacher has told us how smart he is, that is "verbal skills are remarkable." I'm starting to believe them, because we hear a lot more about his verbal skills than we do is somewhat borderline behavior.

**It's rare that we call Tate by her (middle) given name. We call her Tater. Especially Will, who often shouts out "That's MY Tater." I love it. She probably won't appreciate it when her friends come over for a sleepover when she's 10 and we're all screaming, "Hey Tater! What type of pizza would you and your friends like?" Oh well. Tater Tater Pumpkin Schrader will just have to learn to deal with it.