Anja's parents had us over for dinner tonight. Afterward, we adults positioned ourselves on the living room floor and watched the babies. It kind of felt like we should've all had lab coats and clipboards to record these primitive interactions. Babies are like cave people: grunting, fighting, whining for food. And we just sat for an hour or so and laughed at them like it was baby improv night at the theater in the round.
Anja is almost one year old, so the heavy-handed parent in me wishes Lyla would pay more attention when Anja chews, walks, and says the occasional word. I feel like pulling Lyla aside, like a coach pulling aside a promising but immature player, and saying, "See Anja over there? See how she moves one foot in front of the other? Do it like that."
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