25 Weeks!

That's right.  The Salvateenies are 25 weeks old.  One week less than half a year.  And only twenty-seven weeks until we (probably) stop counting weeks.

On Tuesday they celebrated by attending a New & Expectant Parents meeting.  Normally, they're really well behaved, having their lunch and hanging out, but they're getting to that age when all the other babies in the room were a little distracting.  Joe told me that a woman next to him had an extra octopus toy with crinkle arms (that's what happens when you're in a room of multiples moms - extra toys!).  Max has developed a deep and abiding love of toys with crinkle parts, and the mom realized that, so she let Max play with the extra octopus, but after a little while, Joe had to give it back as Max proceeded to drool all over it and rub his hands on it after probing his mouth with his fingers first.

Another development over the past few weeks (which is something you might not normally discuss in mixed company - or at all) has been poor Daniel's entry into the world of constipation.  I really don't understand how he can become constipated when he eats exactly the same thing every day at exactly the same time every day in exactly the same quantities.  There is no variation in his diet, and yet sometimes he's regular as a Swiss clock and other times he's as irregular as the clock in my classroom (which decided this morning to show 6:30 at 9:20...no clue).  The last time it happened, our pediatrician said it probably wasn't a big deal if he went a few days without pooping, but if he seemed to be uncomfortable we could try giving him some mashed prunes or prune juice, and since I still live in fear of the day we start feeding solids, the choice was juice.  So tonight, after two and a half days without poop and at least half a day of screaming unhappiness directed at Daddy during the day, Daniel became the first Salvateenie to taste something that was not milk.  He seemed to like the thick, sweet prune juice, but he ate it slowly and only made it through about an ounce before giving up.  That ounce has not had its desired effect yet, but he was at least slightly less fussy tonight.

There was a brief period during the afternoon when everyone was in a good mood, so I pounced on it to take the now traditional Myrtle pictures (I wonder if they'll mind when I ask them to pose with Myrtle for their Senior Yearbook photos in 17 or 18 years...).