When Melanie arrived, we were video chatting with Jim & Kathy, and they were watching the boys play. All three of them are getting really close to turning over. Tummy time still tends to degenerate into mass hysterical screaming, but I think it's getting easier to tolerate. On Saturday, Ryan rolled over from his tummy to his back twice. Bob and I were setting up bed frames at Mom's new house, so we missed it. I keep waiting for him to do it again, but I guess it's a trick he's only willing to share with Grandma P.
Bob's newest trick is to make the boys "wrestle." As if this is a skill that needs to be taught as opposed to quashed before it begins, but alas, I have a feeling that there will be many more wrestling matches in my future. Here, Michael pins Ryan to the floor. Poor Ryan is always getting pinned down. Although he's the youngest, his superior size relegates him to the attackee position.
Aunt Mellie learns something surprising from Mr. James. (Lately we've been raising the boys above our heads and making them "fly." I've decided that James is going to be a gymnast in the future as he keeps his little legs perfectly straight as he soars through the air.)
Mikey, once again making a play for boobs. I'm pretty sure there is no surer indication that this child is his father's son. Luckily, I don't have to extract Bob's hands from other people's cleavage. Probably because he knows I'd use my giant meat cleaver to do it.
Ryan smiles and laughs for Aunt Mellie. He really enjoys getting thrown around and swooping high and low. Unfortunately, his mother does not always remember to wait a significant time after eating before swooping. I'm pretty sure that the laughing is worth a little spit up.
Aunt Mellie hanging with her boys.
Duke and Dusty watch and wonder why the nice lady who used to feed them hot dogs and other random treats has defected to those darn babies. I guess it's time that our dogs actually get treated like dogs, but it's a hard transition from pampered to pooch.