Everything's Better in a Fort

This seems to be Ellie's latest life philosophy. I guess when you're a kid, life doesn't get much better than a good blanket fort. After Brady constructed Ellie's first blanket fort several months ago, she has regularly requested them. She also regularly turned everything into a fort. The fort was in the eye of the beholder. Anytime she could get her head covered with a blanket, she was in a fort. She often expected our company in these forts. For a time this past fall, it seemed that forts were the best way to calm Ellie down. Fussy on the changing table? Throw a blanket over her head and tell her she's in a fort and she would be fine for the duration. Not cooperating for bedtime? I remember more than one occasion huddling under a blanket with her while reading bedtime stories, brushing her teeth, and saying prayers together. And you know, I have to admit that sometimes things are better in a fort.

Here Ellie is in her fort at the dinner table. Not a regular occurrence, but for some reason this night we let it slide. She has affectionately dubbed the blanket she is sporting "Blanket-dear," and carries it with her everywhere around the house. A bit of a Linus syndrome going on here. The name comes from when Brady tucks her in at night. He will pull up the blanket and say, "Here, my dear, is you blanket, dear." So Ellie thinks the name of the blanket is Blanket-dear.


For Christmas her most exciting presents were a dollhouse that her "guys" can all fit in (plus some new guys) and an already built fort! Once we put the dollhouse in the little tent, we pretty much lost her for most of the day. She can spend hours entertaining herself with these two toys.


She was pretty excited about the bead necklaces she got for me. And that book she got for Charlie. We thought it would be a good idea for her to learn more about giving presents. So Brady took her to the dollar store and whatever two things she picked out were our presents from her. (I bought the present for Charlie ahead of time, though.) I got those lovely bead necklaces. Brady got a Toy Story puzzle.


Ellie's pretty into Toy Story.


And here are some pictures of Charlie in what Ellie calls "Charlie's fort," while we're on the subject. (She also thinks his car seat with a blanket draped over it is a fort and likes to poke her head in to join [read: wake] him).


Charlie has already gotten more use out of this playmat than Ellie ever did in her whole upright, refluxy infancy. He seems to enjoy it.

I wish I was better at catching my favorite moments of these two at play. Charlie is just starting to give us some fleeting smiles--way too brief for my camera to catch--and learning to play with his hands and kick. Ellie is nonstop with her toys. Sometimes she puts some of the guys in timeout for climbing on the table (even getting the mom doll to sit with them and count), but sometimes she lets them get away with it, telling them , "Bye-bye timeout," vicariously living out her consequence-free table-climbing fantasies. She has a running commentary among all these "guys" where they tell each other about everything they are doing, like climbing up the house, going outside, hiding, sleeping, etc. Some of them ring the doorbell and trick-or-treat to the current residents of the house. They tell each other to get their coats on, some of them are leaving, followed by long, drawn-out farewells: "bye, guys . . . see ya later, guys . . . bye . . . so much fun . . . 'kay, bye!" (This was also her loud refrain across the parking lot to anyone who would listen as we left church yesterday.) They return and announce their triumphant arrival: "I'm back, guys! I came back! We're home, guys . . ." It makes me wonder what we must sound like to her.

I have made vain attempts to capture these moments for posterity. Usually by the time I get my camera, Charlie is done with smiling and is on to fussing. Or Ellie has followed me out of the room. Or she has decided to suddenly become self-conscious. Or she wants to play with the camera.

So I've some up with a solution. I've decided that they should give parents the same kind of equipment they give to spies, or at least to spies in the movies. We should get pens that are really recording devices, and glasses that have a built-in high-definition camera. That way we can capture any moment in the moment without missing a beat, and the kids never even know it happened. Also, I want a shoe that secretly doubles as a phone.