The previous evening was a difficult evening for The Boy, bedtime-wise. I’m not sure that he was tired when we settled him into bed, and he did not use the excess of energy wisely. I was three steps past exhausted, and my plans for the evening included putting him to bed, listen to some soft music while reading a few comic books, and have lights out before 9:30. The Boy was having none of it, and I wound up playing whack-a-mole with him for the
better part of an hour.
Finally, at about 9:45, I got frustrated with him, and I told him (not too nicely), “Look, The Boy, Daddy REALLY wants to go to sleep. All I want to do is to read a stupid comic book and go to bed. I don’t care if you want to stay up all night; just don’t keep me up at the same time.” He seemed somewhat cowed by that, and he agreed to stay in bed. I settled into bed (no soft music so I could hear the pitter-pat of little feet earlier), and opened up the comic that I started four times that evening. Five minutes later, a little face peeked into my bedroom, said, “Daddy, you really should turn out the light and go to sleep,” closed the door and retreated back to his room. Stinker.
But, I digress.
Tuesday afternoon, we all wound up waking from our naps at around 3:30, when The Wife had a violin student come by the house. I got everyone to the potty without incident, got them dressed and downstairs, and left the baby with the student’s mother while I went outside with the two boys. We were outside until about 4:30 or so, enjoying a brief warm spell in the Western PA winter. The Boy has been interested in hitting balls with bats lately, which is an interest that I’m happy to feed. I threw him modified batting practice for a while.
I say modified, because, while I’m trying to teach him a lefty swing, he will also swing at the balls righty, straight up, and straight down. He’s considerably more interested in seeing where the ball goes than he is interested in developing a smooth, Don Mattingly-esque swing. That’s fine. For his physical development, considering his difficulties, hand-eye coordination of any sort is important. Besides, it’s more fun sometimes to hit the ball straight up in the air! Before he went inside, he did draw a picture on the sidewalk of a house, a leaf pile, and the sun and clouds in the sky, with the label, “To Daddy Love The Boy.”
Little Bear, meanwhile, contented himself with stealing a ball from our game, drawing with different colors of chalk, demanding horsey rides, and taking the occasional turn at bat. He did, however, draw his brother’s name in clear print on the sidewalk. The “V” looks more like a “U”, but it’s still pretty darn good for a 2.7 year old. He is still very much entertained by having multiple colors of chalk in his possession at any one time. He says, “Daddy, I want colors!” The Boy is learning how to negotiate with that – he will hand Little Bear a different colored piece of chalk to get the color that he needs, which keeps everybody happy. Oh, and it looks like Little Bear is over his strawberry allergy – he ate a handful of strawberries the other night at the tot Shabbot dinner and never got a rash.
The Baby still keep chugging along. He may be fat. He loves bananas, and he just started eating oatmeal at breakfast time. That’s not as tasty as bananas. He, also, is the happiest, smile-est baby that I’ve ever seen.
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