Unexpected

Kids grow up; I know this. It even happened to me once. As a parent, it's one of the few constants. We know it's going to happen - we see that it has happened. Sometimes, though, the actual fact of it hits home in unexpected ways.

Sam runs like a real person.

You know how little kids run? They kind of remind me of groundhogs. A groundhog running looks like a fur-covered bag of bowling bowls rolling down a hill. Little kids look like that, only less coordinated (and without the fur). Watching Joey run on the sidewalk is a great cardio workout for me; my heart never stops pounding. Every step looks like it might be The Step, the one that is just a little bit more out of control than all the others, the one that will ultimately lead to the bandaid drawer. Sam used to run the same way.

Yesterday Sam and I were searching for treasure (and fighting monsters and outrunning giant rattlesnakes and chopping down trees and lighting cookfires) and I was running behind him down the street. It hit me then, watching this short drink of water pelting down the sidewalk, that I wasn't worried about him bailing with every footfall. He was running like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he'd been doing it forever. He was running like birds fly, or monkeys climb, or teenagers eat. It was beautiful.

I know that he's still a kid, and a little kid at that. I know that he'll still fall and that the bandaids will get used. I know that there are plenty of things left for him to do, and plenty of time for us to share while he does them.

He is growing up, though. I think I need to go give him a hug while we're still running together.

I Know It's A Sacrifice, But COME ON!

Joey's been waking up early for the last week or so (and he's been yelling a lot... hmm... but I digress). Typically he doesn't want to go back to sleep, but he'll frequently chill out for a bit if I lie down with him. Quite frankly, if I can get an extra 6 minutes of sleep before tiny fingers start digging into my nose, I'm going to jump at the opportunity.

This morning, he didn't want me in bed with him. Fine; I curled up on the floor with his cast-off blanket and an old couch cushion that now seems to live in his room. Not five minutes later, Joey decided to come join me. He crawled out of bed, plopped himself down on the floor next to me... and stole my pillow. And then proceeded to steal the blanket. I'm not even allowed to sleep uncomfortably now, apparently!

I'm pretty sure he fell back asleep; I enjoyed a little alone time - sorry; a little "only person awake" time - wedged between a snoozing two year old and an ottoman.

Latently Psychic

I'm starting to think that Joey might be. Silly, and I don't really think so, but he's done a couple of things lately that make stop and think, at least.

The first was a couple of weeks ago. The phone rang, and Joey piped up, "Nanny!" Sure enough, it was. No big deal; kids barely seem to know what they're saying most of the time. Last week, I was going through some old stuffed animals after the kids went down and pulled out a Lightning McQueen pillow that had been in a bin for months. When Joey woke up in the morning, I told him I had something for him (the pillow was on the recliner downstairs). "Yitening McQueen piyyow!" he says. That struck me as weird, but he did have another pillow with Lightning McQueen on it, and maybe he was thinking of that. The real kicker was on the weekend.

On Saturday we had both kids out and both cars. On the way home, I was following Julie. She pulled into the driveway, but Sam and I kept going to take a peek at a yard sale down the street. Apparently, although Julie didn't know I wasn't following any more, Joey said, "Daddy drive away!" A couple of minutes later, after a text and a phone call from Julie (neither of which I answered before I got home), once again Joey spoke up: "Here he comes!" At that point, of course, I came around the corner and pulled into the driveway.

I know, in most of my head, that it's nothing. In most of my head.

But still...

Patient AND Devious

I didn't think he had it in him, to be honest.

Last night Joey put his head down on Julie's shoulder around bedtime and closed his eyes. He stayed that way, immobile, eyes closed and breathing deeply, for a good 10 minutes, at which point he popped up, looked Mama straight in the face, and said, "Ha ha!"

Pretty soon I will see personality traits in my children that don't make me fear for my own future, right? Right?

Stonewalled

So I know kids are getting older earlier, but isn't 4 a bit young for a teenager? This is Sam's conversation with his mother today:
"What did you do at preschool today?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't remember. I don't remember anything."
"Did you do French?"
"Nope."
"Did you do Music?"
"Nope."
"Did you do Art?"
"Nope."
"Did you do Science?"
"...yes."
"Ah! What did you do in Science?"
"I don't know."
*pause for comedic fourth-wall-breaking look*

As it turns out, his day - apparently - consisted of going outside once, putting blue cylinders in order, and then sitting on the floor.

Money well spent, I'm sure. :)

From The Mouth Of A Babe

Julie, on supper time:
It's like pulling teeth, only you don't even get teeth!

She's No Bugs Bunny

We were trying to get Joey to eat his dinner tonight; he was just being trying. At one point, Julie asked him to sit in his chair, as he was sliding out of it. "I am," he said. "Eat your dinner," she said. "I am," he replied again. Then she got all clever-like.

"Don't climb out of your chair!"
"I am."
"Don't you drink your water!"
"I am."
"Don't you eat your soup!"
"...ok..." he said.

We're gonna be in soooo much trouble as the rugrats get older...

That Was Clever!

At bedtime tonight Joey was kicking out the way he used to do - straight into my crotch. I told him not to, that it hurt me when he did that. Sam piped up, "It hurts Daddy, it hurts Mama, it hurts me, it hurts everyone in the world." He paused for a moment, then followed up, "It even hurts astronauts!"

At Least He's Learning!

Joey's trend of self-narration continues, much to my delight. It's as cute as a bagful of buttons to hear a 2-year-old slush out, "I'm eating!" around a mouthful of Honeycomb.

We were walking down the stairs first thing yesterday morning with the boy holding my hand, and I knew that he was thinking about something we've been talking about lately. "I'm walking down the stairs!", he said. "I'm walking down the stairs!" Then he looked at me, all wide-eyed, and solemnly intoned, "I'm NOT jumping down the stairs... I'm walking down the stairs!"

Good man!

That Dirty Rat!

I picked Joey up from Brad's house today as usual and Brad says to me, "You should hear what he did..."

Apparently, one of the other kids at Brad's house - who is frequently a handful - absolutely scarfed his dinner in order to get chocolate cake for desert. As Brad was handing him his cake, Joey piped up, "Brad, look at that!"

He was pointing to the other boy's dinner, hidden under his chair.

I don't know if he's a snitch, a saint, or a s#!t disturber, but I laughed and laughed.

Must Be The Phase Of The Moon

I was going to write this last night, but it turns out it was just as well that I waited; tonight would have been a duplicate posting.

My children are crazy.

It's possible that they've both hit "an age" at the same time; maybe their temperaments are starting to match like women's periods will after living together; maybe it's the changing of the seasons. Whatever it is, they've both gone utterly mad.

Mornings are typically ok, but evenings are insane. They oscillate between totally cheerful and completely melted down, frequently within moments. Actually, let me modify that; they go from happy to freaking out within moments. Going back to happy takes way longer than it should (though it is a sudden as a rainbow when they do).

Joey has started screaming like a banshee when he's upset, and Sam has been losing his s#$t at the drop of a hat. Joey will immediately start to wail if something isn't just right - like, say, he doesn't get to eat candy for supper - and then sulk (if we're lucky) or really scream (if we're not). Sam refused to sit on the right in the bathtub - where Joey was already sitting - freaked out when I pulled him out, wailed to be let back in, then refused to touch the water. (Literally; he held himself above the water with hands on one side of the tub and his feet on the other.) Freaked out when I pulled him out then, too.

They've been doing this for a couple of days now, and it's really hard to still be gentle and empathetic (though something is certainly pathetic...)

This too shall pass; I'm just hoping it does so quickly. It'd be nice if the kids survived until, say, Christmas.

He Does Like Yelling

Joey woke up from his nap today and was... a little odd. He's often grumpy when he wakes up; he grunts and growls at us when we go in to get him, and he scowls something fierce. Today, though...

I asked him if he wanted to come downstairs; he declined. That's ok, he often wants a couple of minutes on his own before he comes downstairs on his own. Sure enough, he came to the top of the stairs a few minutes later, still growling. Julie picked him up and carried him down...
...and he started crying. Wailing, really, howling. After 10 minutes or so, I asked him if he wanted to go back to his room. He said yes, and we went up and he sat on his bed in the dark with the door closed (all his requests). He continued to cry.

I asked him if was ready to come down; he very calmly told me that he wasn't, and that he wanted some more time. I said ok, closed the door again and he immediately burst into tears. I opened it quickly to see what was wrong, but when I asked, he again told me - very calmly still - that he wasn't ready yet. "Do you just want to cry?" I asked. "Yes," he said, and the wailing began anew.

He did that for about 20 minutes, then came down all sunshine and lollipops.

Kids are weird.

Movin' On

At the beginning of October, Joey is leaving Mr. Brad's house. He'll be younger than Sam was when Sam left, but we think - again - that Montessori will be good for him. He's extremely mechanically-minded (that's what I'm choosing to call it now; sometimes I call it "Stop breaking things!"), and he's got a surprisingly good attention span when something catches his brain. Plus, he'll be with - or at least near - his big brother. We think that'll be good for both of them.

I'm not going to lie; the logistic simplification will be nice for me, too.

I'm Bloggin!

Joey has been going through a self-referential phase lately. He'll go tearing by us in the house and stop momentarily to say, "I'm running!" We've also gotten "I'm eating!", "I'm drinking!", and "I'm peeing!"

My favourite, though? He's was having himself a bit of a meltdown, and, sobbing, looked at me and said, "I'm crying!"