This week she's struggled quite a bit with the playroom at our gym. She no longer strolls right into the room as if she owns the joint but instead starts clinging to me and crying on me the minute we open the door to the playroom. They've debated coming to get me a couple times as Rory will cry for extended periods, but she'll usually stop for awhile before starting up again. Today I talked to her all morning about where we were going, how I was going to be gone for a little while and I'd come back for her, and she seemed to be doing better when I picked her up. She cried when I left and took a while to settle down but they rocked with her in a chair and she was content doing that.
Hopefully this stage passes soon. Dusty has been taking her when he gets home - and she even protests that - and working with having her spend time with him. I feel bad ignoring her crying and walking away, but I know she needs to be OK with not being with me all the time and she needs to know her daddy will keep her safe too.
Max has also been her hero. One day in the playroom she wouldn't let any of the adults comfort her while she was crying but she'd settle down whenever Max was near her so he played with her the whole time they told me. He's such a good brother! Well good in the aspect that he plays nicely with his sister even if it isn't something I'd condone.
The other day, while I was lost in a long email, I glanced up to see that Max decided it was time to do Rory's hair. He probably had about 5 pumps of mousse in her hair by the time I caught them!
Oh? And those cookies? Expertly smashed by a little man.
And my boy even insisted on taking a picture of his cookies. He is so my boy!
Lastly, the kids earned their dinner last night by washing the dishes. Not that Dusty and I weren't stuck cleaning up after them...
I know, cutest kids in the world, I get that all the time...
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