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Month: February 2011

penmanship

penmanship

Simon’s been working on his. I love it. I hope you do too.

The first one is a goal he made in pre-school. He’s been good at buttoning his shirt for quite a while.

The second one is me being at the end of my rope this afternoon. Oddly enough, my plan worked. The boy who didn’t want to do anything and much to tired to move suddenly had enough energy to clean up the trio blocks and put the books away. Hooray. He can be helpful.

tattle tale

tattle tale

I was talking to Micah on the phone this evening as he was on his way to catch a train home when Simon insisted he had something to tell his father. I handed him the phone.

“Dad, do you know what? This afternoon Oliver climbed on the table and knocked over the vase with the flowers and spilled the water and Mom yelled and put him on the couch and cleaned it up and then she was happy again.”

Busted. I took the phone back.

“He missed the part about how, as I was cleaning up, Oliver was going to climb on the table again. I put him back on the couch and then when I was done cleaning up he came over and gave me a hug.”

Those are important details as well.

fire fire fire!

fire fire fire!

What could be cooler than getting to sit inside a firetruck? Absolutely nothing, I tell you. At least if you are a 3-4 year old male. I know this because I witnessed it firsthand last week. The excitement, the anticipation, the waiting of turns, the second turns, the wished for third turns . . . it was almost too much to handle. The joy was only briefly dimmed by the actual discussion with the firefighters about how, if there is a fire in your house and you see this really scary looking, big, noisy creature, you DO NOT HIDE UNDER THE BED. Or in the closet. You have to trust the fireman to get you out of there.

But after the discussion, a real live fireman slid down a real live firepole, and that was nearly as cool as getting to sit in the truck. And somewhere between the two of those was the coolness of getting to sit with the firemen on the truck and have pictures taken.

I think someone made some new friends at the fire house.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I surprised Micah by making waffles this morning. It was a surprise because he didn’t know we had a waffle iron. Hahaha! I believe he said I was “tricksy.” The look of surprise/confusion on his face was exactly what I wanted to see.

Hope you have a lovely Valentines’ as well. Lovelier (and love-ier) than the picture of this waffle. Which tasted much better than it looks, I assure you.

do I have something on my face?

do I have something on my face?

The four stages of foodface denial:

1. Blissful ignorance: Beet beard? What beet beard?

2. Embarrassed concern: You’re serious? I have something on my face? Where?

3. Laugh it off: Oh, you mean right here. Ha!

4. So what: Give me that camera or I’ll wipe my bean covered hands all over the lens.

“hide” and “seek”

“hide” and “seek”

This is what Simon knows: In order to play hide and seek, somebody has to hide and somebody has to count. There’s something about “ready or not here I come” as well, but that’s not really important.

This is what Simon’s knowledge translates into:

“Mom, do you want to play hide and seek with me?”

“Yes I would. Do you want to hide first or count?”

“I will hide. You can count if you would like.”

“How high should I count?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe one hundred?”

“Okay, you go hide, and I will count to one hundred.”

Simon scrambles under a blanket on the couch, giggling and wiggling while I start counting and doing the dishes. I start out kind of slow, because there are a lot of dishes to wash.

From under the blanket, “Mom, count faster.” I speed up a little bit. It’s not fast enough, “Mom, you are counting too slow. Count faster.” I count faster: “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred! Ready or not, here I come!”

Simon scrambles out from under the blanket, laughing, and runs toward me. I pick him up and lay him on the couch and tickle him until he says, “Okay, Mom, now it is your turn to hide.”

“Okay, you start counting and I’ll go hide.”

“No, you need to hide here, on the couch. Get under the blanket.” I grabbed a cookbook to read while he counted. He counts fast. Before I’m able to get through a recipe, he yells, “Ready or not, I’m coming!”

I peek out from under the blanket. He laughs with glee and comes after me.

The cycle starts again. He hides under the blanket. I count from my post at the kitchen sink.

loverboy

loverboy

Simon is my loverboy. At least that is what he thinks. I can’t sit down without him crawling on me, putting his arms around me, getting in my face, kissing me, and generally driving me crazy. Er, I mean, I love it. It’s awesome. I especially love the part when he climbs on me and hugs me and then grinds his teeth right in my ear — such is the intensity of his love. I like it better when he just moans, “I want you Mom, I waaaannt yoooouuuu.”

I assume he does this because he is a little bit afraid. (And he loves me more than anything in the entire universe and world, of course. But mostly because he’s afraid.) Oliver has my attention more often than he used to, and it causes all kinds of “fun.” Like when Oliver crawled under the bench at church a few weeks ago and I gave him a big smile and then Simon crawled under the bench, jumped up and laughed hysterically (seriously — HYSTERICALLY) and got taken out in the hall. Clearly I don’t love him anymore. And two days a week I drop him off at somebody else’s house for a few hours while Oliver and I go party at the library. Can you believe it? The library? Without Simon? I must really have it in for him.

It used to be just me and him, everywhere, all the time. And those times are coming to an end. Or maybe it’s just that they are no longer the “default” setting of our life. To be honest, it scares me a little bit too. He’s going to go to school soon. He’s going to be away from me all day. He’s going to make new friends. He’s going to discover other interests. And the last thing he is going to want to do is give his mom a hug. Best save up on these things while I can.

“Simon I waaaant yooouuuu. I want you Simon. I looooovvvve yooooouuuu.”

easy as pie

easy as pie

Aside from our gate being changed an hour before departure, we had absolutely no problems getting home. Unless you count the fact that our flight was very full and the the flight attendants threatened to wait for a storm to blow in if we didn’t all get in our seats a buckle up already.

The boys were asleep when we got home, and although I was tempted to peek in on them, I didn’t. We let them sleep. This morning when Mom H. got Oliver out of his crib and brought him into the living room, he didn’t make a single noise. He just walked over to me, gave me a big, long hug, then sat down in my lap and wouldn’t move for several minutes. I loved it.

No more fancy hotel and fancy valet parking and being able to have a coherent conversation over dinner. It’s back to the snow and ice and bundling and psyching myself up for every trip outdoors.