Gabe's Family

For about a week now, Gabe has periodically reminded us who's in our family. I'm not sure what got that ball rolling, but he keeps kicking it along and occasionally adding people, animals, and things to the list (to mix a metaphor with a something literal, I guess). This comes much to Libby's chagrin as two of the first things he listed, beyond our traditional, nuclear family, were our cats (and, now that we have kids, Libby doesn't have enough love left in her heart for our former children--that's just how she rolls, she lives in the "now"--and she's been chomping at the bit for them to get even the mildest ailment so she can use it as an excuse to have them put to sleep). But now that they are officially part of the family as far as Gabe is concerned, their existence is nonnegotiable.

I jest. Libby doesn't want to have them put to sleep. But she HAS said, on more than one occasion, that she can't wait for them to die. Seems a bit like splitting hairs there, but I should be fair.

Anyway. Because it's been pretty amusing when he's gone through his list, I thought I'd try and ask him the question and see if he would spout it out. As usual, he refused to perform. Actually, his reaction to the camera is getting a little silly. As soon as I turn it on now, he wants to see what I've recorded, even though we haven't recorded anything yet (as you can see in the video).

The list usually includes Momma, Daddy, Gabe, Norah, Tsunami, Typhoon (notice I'm using the correct spellings and not trying to spell them as he says them, mostly because it would take too long to do it), his "trucks," which I think includes specific ones that he hasn't shared the identity of with us yet, and as many of his stuffed animals as he can remember the names of (but always Amy Horsey, Burgess Bear, and Soupie, because those are the three that he cares about right now). Good luck getting all of them covered on our insurance.

Oh, and Butts is feeling better. Finally. You want the longest, most miserable days of your life? Spend five days with a sick nine month old. The worst part is that you can't DO anything about it. Very frustrating.