“oliver, no!”

“oliver, no!”

Today is the last chance to vote in the Peep Show. Speak now or forever hold your peace.

Moving on . . . .

I’m such a kill joy. Especially where Oliver is concerned.

“Oliver, no! We don’t run into the street like that. It’s dangerous.”

“Oliver, no! That’s too high. You could fall down and get hurt.”

“Oliver, no! I need to hold your hand when you go down the stairs. You’re not tall enough to reach the railing.”

The poor boy is getting very good at making the sad face that melts my heart and makes me that much more protective of him. I count it a victory every day he doesn’t fall off something or come up with another random bruise or scrape that magically appeared when I wasn’t looking.

And then he’ll go and spill milk on the couch, go get a rag, and start cleaning it up before I’ve even had a chance to realize what has happened. For all his throwing caution to the wind, he is also thoughtful and helpful. It’s always Oliver who starts cleaning up the toys first and he is more apt to stick with it until they are all put away. His brother is slowly learning to follow his example.

And Oliver is also an exceptionally personable little fellow. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been zoned out on the train, or talking to Simon, and I’ll catch a glimpse of someone with their hands over their face, in the middle of a game of peekaboo. With Oliver. More often than not, it seems, the peekaboo-er has been the least likely of people: late 20s male, tattoos, scruffy, shaved head, piercings. They seem drawn to Oliver. The latest one, from last night’s trip home from Roosevelt Island, had a longish goatee that he said generally scares dogs and small children. Micah and I pretended we didn’t notice when first saw him peekaboo-ing our child, content to let him have his moment. Pretty soon the man spoke to Micah as well, though, asking how old Oliver was. They played a little more peekaboo, the man using his hoodie to cover his face a few times, which Oliver loves. Then, just before he got off the train at West 4th, he said, “Thanks Little Buddy. I needed that after the week I’ve had.”

Oliver, yes.

2 thoughts on ““oliver, no!”

  1. Wow, that’s awesome! I’m glad you’re keeping him safe from himself, and I’m glad that he is such a cute little guy. It’s pretty awesome that he was able to cheer up somebody who apparently needed it so badly!

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