23 February 2018

The Bittles

I found this post in my drafts from the summer.  It's not complete.  There was supposed to be more about The Bairn and Natey, but I don't want it forgotten, so I'm posting it as it is.


I call my kids my little bittles and, because of this, they call themselves the bittles.  As in, "Mom, wait for the bittles!" and "Oh look, this spoon is bittle-sized."  When I straighten up at night and put tiny shoes back on the shoe rack or flip open a notebook and find drawings of escape plans and family members on top of my grocery lists, I'm so pleased to have these little bittles who have hit another funny spot that I particularly enjoy.

Ellen is currently obsessed with policey things.  She asks to watch silly robbers (Lego shorts) on the ipad and spends a lot of time designing Lego boats and aircraft and police stations for a minifigure she calls Shiny Silver, presumably because of his sunglasses.  She has an odd linguistic pattern that goes like this:  Mom, I want to tell you something.  It's this.  She likes me to scoop her up in a towel after her bath and drop her on her bed as hard as I can, so she can pretend to be a bird landing in its nest.
At the harbour in Halifax.

The Bairn is the huggiest boy in all the world.  He calls me his lovey and tells me he loves me the best because he loves to jiggle my arm fat.

Camping with cousins in New Brunswick.

Hiking in Fundy National Park

Cape Enrage - We couldn't go down to the beach because the tide was coming in.

A cemetery we happened on while driving to Moncton.

Natey and Ellen on a tandem swing at the park.

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