I'm thankful that Jack and Kate are the kids they are. Jack drives me up the wall sometimes with his reluctance to eat, stalling about going to bed, and other mild annoyances. But he's also a tremendously sweet kid, thoughtful, drawing pictures for us ("This one is for Mommy. Now I will make one for you. I will always make you pictures."), bringing Kate toys when she's crying ("Here, Kate. Here's a pirate guy. Here."), being kind without any sort of guile.
Kate just makes me laugh. She's totally into walking around, grabbing things, thrill-seeking. Going up stairs, going down stairs, climbing onto footstools. At Aunt Cathy's, there was a Kitchen Aid Mixer on the floor. She went up to it and tried to climb onto it like a horse. She sees Jack and the girls playing with something and she goes over and gets involved, usually by walking through it. "No, Dogzilla!" Jack says, in reference to a kids book we read sometimes. She is Dogzilla, a walking engine of destruction, and it's a riot.
I'm thankful it's bedtime.
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