Children of the Cauliflower

My kids are weird.

Proof #1: We reheated last night's pork for lunch. All they wanted to eat was the onion.

Proof #2: For dinner we had hamburger patties, with a side of steamed broccoli and cauliflower. They ignored the hamburger and ate all the cauliflower, even crying when they ate the whole bag! So then they settled for the rest of the broccoli. And never finished the meat.

Not bad-weird, just weird.

Otherwise, it was a hard day: no nap in the toddler beds due to the removal of a dirty diaper and the subsequent spreading around the room of its contents. Ugh. We then slept two hours in the car, were tired for bed but scared to sleep in the toddler beds. After an hour of crying and comforting, it was finally quiet. I guess we got off easy tonight.

But I realized a beautiful thing: in the last 24 hours, my children have become best friends. They used to tolerate one another, or annoy one another, or play side by side and then fight, with lots of jealousy over who was sitting closer to Mommy at that moment. But starting yesterday when they crawled out of their cribs, it's been the two of them as a team. In that Herculean task of transcending the crib rail, they bonded. And it's been clear since yesterday. They're playing together--building a blanket fort, scaling the couch, chasing each other through the little tent, jumping in their beds--and there has been no fighting. They've exchanged loveys, passed each other toys, swapped playdough colors without my suggesting it, and sat side by side on the couch to watch Dora.

It's been wonderful. Almost as wonderful as . . . cauliflower.