Sub-subtitle: I might not survive the holidays, the child is trying to kill me.
My God, how is it possible that my parents have so many thing to get in to that a two year old shouldn't have? How is it possible that I grew up in this house and lived? How is it possible that with six -- count 'em, six -- other adults in the house last night and this morning, I still feel like I am on constant vigilance for this child?
In all fairness, my 22-year-old cousin entertained my child for a solid half hour this morning, which is more than a single young man in his early twenties should really be expected to spend with a two year old, even one to whom he is related. And my mother has truly been beyond the call of duty as a grandmother, even going so far as to drag my child 'round the back forty on a sled earlier (there's 18 inches of snow outside, so deep my child can't walk .. did I mention that? So we're kind of snowed in, at least in that all the good outside activities are impossible, so there's no point in going to the park or beach or other place that is used to exhaust my child. And taking him to an inside place, such as a mall ... you must be kidding!) but my mother's brothers are much less interested in playing with him -- and rightly so, they are in their fifties, not yet grandparents and no longer parents and on holiday to boot, and I can understand an active two year old wasn't on their to-do list for the holidays. I am merely grateful that they tolerate his presence with good grace.
Anyway. Back to the point at hand. He. Is. In. To. EVERYTHING. Seriously, I cannot let my guard down for a single second and it is EXHAUSTING. I keep telling myself this is just a phase, that next Christmas I will have a moment to sit still and he will quietly play on his own or more than five seconds and the Christmas tree will remain unmolested.
If I don't wholeheartedly believe this, I may not make it through the holiday season.
1 comment:
It's true -- next year will be different. I have been where you are, and lived (somehow) to tell the tale :)
Have you investigated your parents' basement for, like, old dead telephones and TV remotes and such that might keep The Boy busy for a few minutes at a time? Do they have a TV? (I know, I know ... but a child who has been zombified by the Backyardigans is a child who is not climbing the curtains to get at the breakable tchatchkas ...)
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