I forgot to mention that I paid a visit to The Babies (TM) a couple of weeks ago. I was missing them, and arranged to stop by while their dad was caring for them.
As it had been a few months since I'd sat for them, I wondered what things would be like. Would they remember me? Would they care? They had just turned two, so who knew.
The father opened the door, with the kids right behind him. "HEY!" I called out. The grins I got in response were almost as wide as their heads. The boy used to like to have me chase him, so as I took off my coat, he stood ready, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"RAWR!" I called, my signal that the games had begun. He took off, laughing, and I followed, finally catching him and eating his face.
The next hour was spent catching up: toe-eating, nose-stealing, song-miming (they still remember all the moves to"Don't Cry For Me Argentina," "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair" and "I Don't Know How to Love Him.") They also still pull their shirts up when I call out "Mardi Gras!" much to dad's chagrin.
They talk more now, and are much more deliberate with their actions, being careful with pretzels, picking things up, being more orderly. Feeding me. They are becoming less babies and more children. At one point I turned to the boy and suggested we read our favorite book, "Fish Kisses." He disappeared up the steps and came back with it. I was impressed. We had a good, good time. It's a lot more fun being the playmate than the babysitter. I hope to go back soon.