The Ever Evolving Candle-Walk

I have to get this on video, but for now, picture this:

Francesca and Cecilia's candle-walk has evolved into starting with horsey rides to the kitchen, where their candles are lit and they grab them and go.  They mumble a song down the hall that I think I've mentioned before.  Tonight it was, "Candleflame . . . candleflame . . . " but sometimes its, "Candle daddy . . . candle daddy," or "candle Cecilia . . . candle Cecilia," or "Candle cat . . . " or "candle toot," or whatever comes to mind the moment Francesca puts her hands around her candle.  This is the part I LOVE right now:  once they reach their bedroom (which isn't far from the kitchen) they place their candles on the dresser and engage themselves in their own form of creative expression . . . 

For Cecilia, this involves getting down on her hands and doing one or two donkey kicks and then quickly blowing out her candle, and her sisters candle, which without fail, elicits a blood curdling scream from said sister.  My job is to be close by as she blows out her candle, then back her to the rocking chair before she gets that second blow out of her mouth.

For Francesca, her creative expression involves dancing and singing or one or the other.  Tonight it was singing, which went something like, "There once was an owl . . . in France . . . ah sha ca jcha dolarooni, donadoni, jcha cjaa ji . . . " which is French for something I don't understand.  She takes her foreign languages very seriously.  Sometimes she sings a song we know, but other times its a made up song.

Then we say, "Lights out little sprout," and turn out the lamp.  We take turns telling a story, but lately, Cecilia will interrupt with her own story.  Yesterday, her story was, "One day . . . (and you have to imagine giant voice inflections within each word) there was a princess.  And what happened is, the princess . . . was in a room . . . and then she went out to do the candle-walk again."  We loved that story because it reminded us of Francesca doing her candle-walk over-again because her sister blew her candle out.  Tonight, Cecilia's story went like this, "One day . . . Granny's dogs . . . toot, toot, tooted . . . all the way to Moab."  

I know I should be hardcore squashing this toot/poop phase, but sometimes I enjoy it way too much!  We get some big, big laughs from Cecilia's primal humor.  When Cecilia toots, she doesn't say, "I tooted," anymore, but, "I'm Toots MaGoo."