Their hair

Noah loves these pjs and even through they are a little too small and tough to unfasten at potty time she wears them as often as they are clean. She'll ask for them too, "My apple pajamas."

Everyone says that Isaiah and Noah are remarkably similar in apperance. Everyone, everyone... except me. I think Noah is a dead ringer for Broderick. She has his feet, his hands, his birthmark in the exact same place, his eyebrows, perhaps my lips (but there is still hope!) Isaiah, on the other hand, looks more like my family. When he was first born he looked so much like my uncle Milton, then somedays he looked like my dad and now he looks like my brother. He's a momma boys just like Jonathan and is so sensitive. I also thought Noah was senstive until I had the pleasure of meeting my son. Noah cares what people think and is hurt if anyone other than me tells her "no." But she's got spunk and energy and is goofy like me, but she sleeps though sounds and easily apdated to her environment and changes. Isaiah wakes at the slighest sound, and he reacts to anything that hasn't been rinsed twice. His poor little cheeks are blistered red each morning depending upon which side rubbed up against the sheet. And he is soo, soo sweet. Squirmy, but sweet.

This is Noah last night at bedtime. Nobody is as good as Noah's hair as Delmy. Noah will sit still for a head full of braids or ribbons. I can barel get her to sit still long enough to brush her teeth.