Stair Master and Identity Crisis

We have two staircases in our house. One of them goes down to the basement where we do our laundry, but the kids have really never even been down there. (It's gross. It's basement-ey. It's unfinished concrete and an enormous uncovered sump pump pit. Even I don't like to go down there.)

The other goes upstairs to the bedrooms. Unfortunately, whoever built this house thought that everyone was a superhero. Or just not a klutz. I'm beginning to lose count of all the people who have fallen down our stairs (me, Ella, me holding Ella, my cousin Jenn...) They are terribly steep and quite narrow. If they weren't carpeted, I'm sure even more people would have fallen down them by now! But, this post is not about falling down stairs. I'm just sayin', they're tough stairs to climb, as I can attest to with memories of bruised tailbones and skinned elbows.

Eli will be 10 months old this week, and he has mastered them. He is a Stair Master. It's funny because he's never really been allowed near the stairs. We keep the kitchen, bathroom and staircase off limits with a baby gate - the kids are only allowed in those areas with supervision, otherwise chaos ensues. Anyways, while I was making supper a few nights ago, he was in the kitchen with me playing with cupboard doors. The next thing I knew, he was gone, and I found him halfway up the staircase! After allowing him to practice a few times, he can now make it all the way up the 13 steps to the landing (with me standing right behind him spotting of course).

What a little monkey!

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Ella had a bit of an identity crisis yesterday. She was in the kitchen with me while I was making supper (hmmm, this seems to be a trend). She helped me measure the rice and water into the rice cooker, cracked an egg on to the floor (is that helping?) and sat and stirred my frozen veggies thawing in hot water. Then the phone rang, so I went and got it. As I can back in to the room a moment later, Ella asked, "Who's that Mommy?" I replied that it was Emily's mommy (a little girl that she goes to church with). We continued to make supper (fried rice, yum!) but Ella eventually lost interest. She went over to the corner where we keep cans of formula for Eli's bottles and built a tower with them - it was as tall as her! Then she exclaimed, 'Look what Emily did!"

Me: Emily? I thought you built that tower, Ella!

Ella: Don't say that! Don't say Ella!

Me: But your name is Ella!

Ella: No! Ella's name Emily! Don't say Ella!

Me: You name is Emily?

Ella: Emily built the tower. I did. Ella's Emily.

For the next half hour, her name was Emily, and she got mad every time I called her Ella!

Thankfully, this morning she seems to be Ella again. Who knows what will happen when Emily and her Mom come over today!