Snippet the first:
Oh, sure, he plays with a few of his toys, but mostly he wants to talk to us, or play on the computer or with his dad's Nintendo. Right now one of his favourite activities is to play on his "program on the computer" which is to say, we put on the text edit and he types letters. He can type his own name, although on occasion he needs a few reminders on which letter comes after which, and he also dictates hilariously wonderful stories, and then asks to see them over and over again. Mostly they involve animals that jump. I have no idea why. Sometimes the animals get in trouble for touching the Christmas lights. No idea where that came from. {snort}
I'm still going to the toy store soon and I'm still going to buy things for him -- he is getting a train set from his grandparents, and I'll buy some nice engines for it, and there'll be some cookware, as he enjoys cooking. There'll also be some books and some other small fun items. But really, we'd be best off just buying him his own laptop. And I don't mean one of those dinky little kid's laptops they have at big box toystores. I mean an actual laptop. His third favourite activity is looking up stuff on the internet -- pictures of dinosaurs, or youtube movies of animals. Once he learns to work the track pad, all will be lost.
Snippet the second:
I suppose all little kids are strange in their own way. Yesterday on our day off together I decided we'd do something fun! and interesting! and we hied ourselves to the rec centre to the drop in gym for toddlers and preschoolers. They set up the gym with mats and small ride-on cars, and balls and hockey sticks, and 50 screaming children and beleaguered caregivers descend on the place and cause havoc. My child, being the introvert that he is, spent part of the time actually sitting on the risers with the adults, watching the other children with fascination as if they were a particularly spectacular zoo exhibit. The rest of the time he half-heartedly played with a few of the toys, and then told me he wanted his snack. I can't help feeling grateful as hell that he's in daycare; I think if I were a stay at home parent he'd have no social skills whatsoever for other children.
As it was, when he finally decided that he was interested in the variously shaped mats and then was unceremoniously pushed off one by another small boy, he stood up, tears streaming down his face, and said loudly, "DON'T PUSH ME!" Which I applaud; this behaviour is better than throwing a tantrum, or smacking the other child, or any number of other things. I'm so pleased he uses words and phrases to express his emotions. But this other child literally had no idea what to do with this information; it was like he hadn't heard him at all. This isn't my doing; he's being taught this in daycare, but I can't help thinking that were he not in the daycare with people who try to teach the children how to relate to each other, that such an outing with a stay at home parent (me) would be radically different. He'd sit on the sidelines for the whole time.
Snippet the third:
After two days with naps, our relatively sane child has been returned to us. Dressing this morning was a surprisingly painless endeavour, and it makes me shake my head to realize how far we'd come down the path of the tantrums without really realizing it. You never know how bad things are until they change and then you remember -- hey, morning ablutions can actually be relatively pain-free! We had no tears this morning, despite the lack of Backyardigans bribery, so apparently we're just no ready for the lack of nap. I suppose we'll figure out how to save our couple relationship some other way, given this way means a total lack of mom and dad time.
Not that I am in any way suggesting there are any problems, might I add. There aren't. But you know. We're together because we actually like each other and like spending time together, and we miss it when there aren't lazy evenings of bad television together.
Snippet the fourth:
And now that the naps have been reinstated ... may I pause for a moment to consider how much I love my child? I don't write very much here about how much joy and wonder he's brought to my life, I don't do those monthly odes to my child. I don't have anything against them; it's perhaps that my staid British upbringing has meant that waxing poetic about my child feels like an odd thing to do. But in the interests of committing this to memory, and in the interests of having something for him to read later, let me say this:
When I got pregnant with The Boy, it was at the end of a couple of nasty years. He was the beginning of the belief that good things can happen again, that life hadn't abandoned me. And two almost three years later, he is still the very best thing in my life. Oh, sure, I'm terribly sleep deprived because it seems I have the child who took the very longest ever to sleep through the night, and this has taken a pretty nasty toll on my life. But each and every night as he lays in his bed, finally sleeping, I still pause and look at him, at his total perfection, and feel that rush of gratitude and love and joy. Yesterday as I made dinner in the kitchen, and he stood behind me happily playing in the sink, I got a feeling of peace of just being together. I love hearing his stories, love talking to him, love feeling his body cuddle up against mine as we sit on the couch reading together. I love hearing him call me "Momma", love feeling his little arms around my neck, and love feeling his squiggly warm body still hot and damp from the bath. I sit and picture what he'll be like as a five year old, or ten year old, or twenty-year old, and I can't wait to see him then, to talk with him and know him as he grows and changes. I hope very much one day to share Christmas dinner with him and his family. I know that this feeling I have for him, the rush of joy and love that I feel when I look at him, will be the same at 5 and 10 and 20 and 40 as it is today. He and I were once one, he grew within me, we shared a space, and no matter what he will always be a part of my heart, one way or another. He will go and live his own life and have his own experiences, but somewhere inside me will always be the little boy who rests his head on my shoulder, hugs me, and says "I love you Momma" and kisses me on the lips. And the giggles, because our noses bumped together.
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