Yesterday, I was reading a book with N. (Hallelujah! She may turn out to be a reader after all! I really really try not to obsess over the developmental milestones and the interests of my children. What they will be, they will be. But no books? I'm not sure I could stand it.) and there was a picture of hats. Unprompted, she patted the top of her head with her hand. So, yes, she's definitely starting to become more self-aware.
Last night, O. was putting his shoes on to go outside and help J. put air in my tires and shouted "Mom, where's my other Croc?" N. ran over to the shoe pile, picked up her own tiny pink one, and tried to hand it to him. When he refused it and found his own, she placed hers on the ground. She then tried to stick her foot inside it, in effect standing on one foot to do so. "Doo. Doo."
She is also currently fascinated with the parts of my face, so that one of the new additions to the bedtime ritual is to gaze into my eyes in what first seems to be adoration. Then she sticks her index finger up my nostril and laughs hysterically. She would do that for probably an hour, so I distract her by sticking her arm down my shirt. She discovers the shoulder of my t-shirt to suck on, and thus is content and ready to relax for bed.
Not to be left out on the body part stories, the other night at dinner, O. complained about his foot hurting. I told him to stop coming up with excuses not to eat, and try some of his dinner. "But, there are bees on it! They are stinging all over my foot!" He lifted it up, puzzled that he could not see said bees. While I explained that most people usually describe that feeling as "your foot being asleep," I had to admit I like his description a lot better.
After a week of summerlike weather, the temperature dropped over the weekend, so we had to bundle up to go outside to work on the leaves and other "getting the yard ready for winter" tasks. O. came in twice for extra clothes, first a hat and then some gloves. He was so excited about his gloves, calling them his "sticky gloves" like Diego's, and waving them around at his dad to show them off. Then we went to swing, and when I lifted him up in his he exclaimed "Mom! I need butt gloves! My swing is COLD. I will ask for them for Christmas!"