Above, the firstest ever photo, taken by Daddy with camera phone. And below... playing with the Barbie karoake Thing.
The twins' first birthday passed, discreetly nestled in with Shabbos and a friend's son's Bar Mitzvah. We left our dear boys to attend said Bar Mitzvah, and in our absence they were duly fed their birthday cupcakes, but no one really noticed (except the lucky babysitter). At the pediatrician's, during their 1-year check-up, they were admired, but not so admired as to be freed from their three (six!) awful pokes and Snoopy bandaids. Saul amazed me by walking eleven steps (after a few weeks of one-two-splat, one-two-splat...) right there in the exam room, barefoot and blubbery. He was brilliant. No, I do not favor Saul, even though he says Mama (Yasha still doesn't) and walked eleven steps in front of the nurse only 3 days after his 1st birthday. Yasha tips the scales his way with his eyes...sigh. Then Saul hugs with clinging arms and chest so close, and tips the scales his way. Then Yasha flutters his eyelids. And so on.
Their grey-blond hair is growing unruly, and Daddy would have me cut it. I am relishing the wispy curls and fine, flowing, unbrushable fluff. I love the deedees.
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