You see, my little man is an early riser, and he wakes up ready to go, with a plan on his mind and fun in his heart. Lucy, on the other hand, needs her morning juice like most people need a cup of coffee. Until then, she only wants Mommy (I don't hate that.) and a stack of books. If I hadn't lived with Nate for so long before we had her, I might be a bit more impatient with her, but he wakes up the exact same way. To each his own, eh? Anyway, every single morning for the last almost two years, Milo has begged to hold Lucy as soon as she rolled out of bed. She, in turn, has screamed and cried at his efforts every single morning for the last almost two years. Poor Milo.
Today, after lunch, the two of them were running around playing zoo animals, and all of a sudden, Lucy gave Milo a hug and told him, "I love you, Milo." He, in true boy fashion, made a silly face and ran away, to which she began chasing him, shouting, "Milo! Tum back! I want to hold you!" (which is Lucy code for "I want you to hold me.") Milo soaked it up for a good minute or two before he gave in and held her, and they snuggled on the couch for probably fifteen minutes. I will never forget how happy the two of them were all cozied up there. (That's a good thing, because they are both in their own rooms as we speak after a hardcore tussle over a stuffed lamb.) No joke, Milo has been waiting for this day for as long as Lucy has lived.
Oh, and just a note. We ate spaghetti for lunch and I stripped these little people down and let them run around, as Lucy says, "lay-ked" (which in this prude house means diaper or undies).