People often comment at how well Henry and Molly get along. Adam and I were laughing in the car today that they are already ganging up on us, we can't imagine what it will be like when they are both fully verbal. We are afraid. Very afraid.
Last night Adam got an On Demand movie for them. There was some sort of scary character in it that Molly decided she was afraid of. Everytime it came on, she would say "I'm fraid." Henry decided it would be best if she hid her eyes during those parts to he told her she could shove her head up his shirt. I'm not really sure how well she was breathing but she kept going for it and spent half the movie with her head jammed up his shirt.
She also located a case of juice boxes and kept sneaking new ones in for them. It looked like the morning after a fraternity party in our living room with empties everywhere!
It is funny how quickly Molly is learning to give it as good as she gets. She has come up with a name for Henry that he hates. She calls him Henry-ya. She never uses it unless she wants to make him mad and then she keeps saying it over and over. He goes nuts.
Today we found this little deserted beach on the Long Island Sound. We dragged some boat cushions ashore because we thought Molly would stay asleep. Henry was trying his hardest to make a little bed out of them and remove every speck of sand. As soon as he turned around Molly would hurl herself on them and lay down. She would shut her eyes and say "Leave me alone!" over and over.
Last week I overheard Henry ask Molly if she wanted to lick his shirt. He had gotten into a package of macaroni and cheese powder and it sprayed onto his shirt. She readily agreed for some disgusting reason. I had to demand that he refrain from asking her to lick his hands. He likes to pretend that she is his cat.
My sister had a good description that Henry treats Molly like his evil little pet. She will do any bad little thing he tells her to do. I recently was showered in orange juice because he told her to make bubbles into a full bottle of juice. He tells her to jump on the couch and rip up pieces of paper and put his underwear on her head as a hat. He is always trying to get her to jump from things. I left them with Adam last weekend and when I walked out of the door Molly was naked, standing on an ottoman and ready to dive into a pile of blankets. He is always trying to get her to curse. I have to ignore the repeated Oh Damnit! Oh Crap! and Jee-zus! raining from the backseat while I am driving. She sounds like a foul mouthed sailer with a speech impediment.