About two weeks ago, I noticed Miranda was winking at herself in the mirror. She had somehow figured out how to close one eye.

This is something that Eleanor first figured out how to do about ten months ago.

Anyway, we were proud of Miranda for figuring out how to wink, and ever since then, she’s been practicing in the mirror. This morning, she even drew a happy face winking.

Of course, this morning Eleanor figured out how to curl her tongue.

My mom came over for Chinese New Year last weekend, and part of the tradition with Chinese New Year is that you’re supposed to have a dinner with way too much food. One of the things my mom brought over was a roasted chicken, chopped into pieces. She bought it at Sam Woo, in Irvine. When you buy a whole chicken (as opposed to a half chicken), they really give you the whole thing. This meant that beyond the pieces of chicken that one normally eats, the Styrofoam container also held things like the chicken’s feet, neck, and head.

We were finishing up the last of the leftover chicken last night and Miranda pointed at the chicken head and asked what it was. Agnes and I hesitated, wondering if we were going to face our kids’ realization that chicken as a food and chicken as an animal were the same thing. We said it’s the chicken head and waited to see how they would react. Miranda said she wanted to try it.

I have no idea what there is to eat on a chicken head–maybe skin, but that’s it. Miranda picked it up. Agnes warned her that the comb and beak on the head were too hard. Miranda then took a bite out of the back of the chicken head, crunching through it.

At that point, we decided that was enough, and suggested that she try a different piece, and she was okay with that. When we looked, she had bitten through the skull. Eleanor, for her part, tried out the chicken feet, but didn’t find much to eat there either.

We decided against taking pictures of these chicken parts.

Miranda: “Eleanor doesn’t smells good.” Eleanor: “It’s okay…”

Miranda: “We have food at the swimming lessons when you push the buttons.” I told her we can’t have lunch from the vending machines.

We got robes for the girls’ swim lessons. The robes we were using before had to be pulled over their heads, and it just took too long while the kids were shivering. On the day that the robes arrived, Eleanor tried hers on. With a little prompting, Eleanor called out “float like a butterfly–sting like a bee.”

[If you can’t see the Flash player above, you can download the video in MP4 format appropriate for an iPod: MP4 (266KB).]

I asked the kids if they like cats. Eleanor nodded. I asked if they like dogs. Eleanor said “I like dogs”. Miranda said she likes ants.

Miranda, after waking up this morning:”I sleeped”. Me: “You slept?”. Miranda: “No, I sleeped.”

The kids prefer Mickey Mouse chicken nuggets from Costco to the panko breaded chicken cutlet that we had at Cafe Hiro.

Back on December 14th, on the last weekend before we closed escrow on selling our old house, we thought it would be nice to let the kids see it one last time. At the time we were in our apartment, which the kids called “301” because of the apartment number, and the kids would occasionally ask about “607”, which was the street number of our old house.

Miranda: “Maybe we can go to 607.”

On the way there, we said that we were going to see 607, and that after this it wouldn’t be ours any more. We couldn’t go there again. They mulled that one over, but didn’t really react.

Miranda and Eleanor recognized the house when we got there, and we opened up the house to reveal that it was empty. They both started rushing from room to room.

Eleanor ran to the back of the house where their room used to be. She came back out and said that there was nothing there. She seemed a little upset.

Agnes and I cleaned up a little bit of the mess that the movers had left, while Miranda and Eleanor started to play in the living room. They liked wrapping themselves in the curtains and saying it was “baladanoon”. I have no idea what that means or where it came from.

Later, we came outside to take a couple of pictures.

We asked a passing neighbor to take a picture of all of us in front of the house.

By way of comparison, here’s a photo of us when we first arrived home from the hospital after the kids were born.

Tonight, over dinner, I mentioned that we were starting up swimming lessons again tomorrow. The difference this time is that instead of a parent-child swim class, they’re going to be in a class with an instructor and two or three other kids. I told the kids, “We’re going to swim tomorrow, but mommy and daddy aren’t going into the pool with you.”

They thought about it a while, then started getting concerned.

“I don’t want to swim by myself!”

“I can’t put on my swimming suit by myself!”

“I don’t want to go swimming!”

My intention was to not surprise them with the fact that we weren’t going into the pool, but instead I think they got the impression they would be in the pool without an instructor–and that they would need to figure out how to get changed and everything. Agnes and I both tried to explain what I meant, but they both still seemed stressed when they went to bed tonight.

On a side note, we bought new wetsuits for the kids. In their last lessons, they were shivering by the end of their half-hour lesson. I’m hoping these swimsuits will keep them a little warmer. They’re not skin-tight, but they are thicker at least.