Preparing for a (temporary) move

Since Brodie left for London, I've been reminding Margot each day that soon we'll see him again. And every time our conversation goes exactly like this:

Me: "In __ days, we'll go to London and we'll all be together again."
Min: "At the airport?"
Me: "Well, Dad's not at the airport anymore, but we'll go through an airport to get to him."
Min: "We'll fly on a plane?"
Me: "Yes, we'll fly on a plane."
Min: "With my carseat?"
Me: "Yes, we'll take your carseat."
Min: "With Bobby? And Puffy? And Bun?" (Note: 'Puffy' refers to a pink dog she named "Puffy Dog" and 'Bun' is a brown dog. These guys rank well in the hierarchy of stuffed animals that live in her crib.)
Me: "Yes, with Bobby and Puffy and Bun."

Here, Margot always pauses.

Min: "And will we eat breakfast on the airplane?"

I assure her that we will. Although, to be honest, with our coach fare seats, I am not sure that the airline (US Air) will provide us with a breakfast. I'll have to be sure to bring something breakfast-like on the flight in case they don't.

I'm not sure why eating breakfast is so important to Margot for this trip, but I can only suspect it was discussed at some point in a Caillou episode.

Chincoteague Recap

I don't know what was the bigger hit with Margot from our recent visit to Chincoteague: feeding the horses corn niblets ten times a day, playing on the beach, or playing with her cousins! Or maybe it was the ice-cream after dinner each evening, or swimming in the pool with water wings, or sleeping in the big bed in the hotel. It might have been the endless attention from grandparents and Aunt Carol and Uncle Phil and getting her way every time because she was the youngest. It might have been any of these things; I can't get her to identify just one thing that she liked best.

They're coming! They're coming!

Min's freckles are starting to appear.

I always figured she'd at least have a light smattering of freckles, since I am coated with them and Brodie is, too. I'm very careful to slather sunscreen on her whenever we go outside but yesterday, when sitting with Margot on my lap, I realized that the faintest of dots are beginning to appear on her cheeks and nose.

Ice-cream face

Margot couldn't contain her glee over getting to eat ice-cream three nights in a row at the beach:

Where in the world is Margot Emily?

We're on our annual trip to Chincoteague, VA. Sorry I haven't posted for a while but it's been pretty busy getting Brodie off to London and selling our condo and working and everything else that's been going on.

Margot is doing just fine. Well, mostly. She's been throwing some massive tantrums lately; I think it's partly because she's missing Brodie and partly because she's, well, two years old. In the blink of an eye, she can go from a smiling little girl to a hyperventilating toddler who screams, "I will not wear my hat! I will not wear my hat! I will not wear my hat!" (Or "I will not hold your hand" or "I will not eat my dinner!" or "I want to feed the horses one more time!")

This will pass, I am sure. Some folks have mentioned that they think age 3 is worse than age 2 so I am a little concerned that this isn't the worst of it.

We went to the beach this morning, which Margot adored (it resulted in a tantrum of "I can't want to go home!" when it was time to go nap). She dug in the sand, and sat in the shallowest part of the surf, and watched her cousins Ben and Anna fly a kite, and blew bubbles with Grandma.

More photos and stories tomorrow!