Housekeeping at 35 Months
Oh, my goodness, where to begin? Maybe here:
You've been tough the last few weeks, little chicken. You had a bad cold, were getting two new molars, and took the opportunity to throw a couple of knock-down drag-out bang-your-fists-on-the-floor tantrums. You said no to everything. You were waking up crying several times a night, refusing to nap, screaming about only eating tortellini and throwing your toys. And then, just as quickly as it came, that phase ended and left you sweeter and more enjoyable than ever. You were settling down for your nap the other day when I sneezed on the other side of the wall and you yelled, "Bless you, Mama!" You turned to me the other day and, apropos of nothing said, "Mama, I love you so much."
A few weeks ago you insisted that you did not want a little sister under any circumstances. You lobbied for an older brother. When we pointed out that an older brother would probably want to play with your trains you changed your mind and said, "Actually, I want it to just be me and Mama and Dad." And then, magically, about a week ago you began talking about the fun things you could do with your little sister. You picked out a few baby toys in the playroom and said, "This would be a good toy for the little sister."
Sometimes you're all talk, all bravado and not much else. We had a small party this weekend, where one of the guests was a 1 1/2 year old girl named Sophie. Before the party you said you weren't going to share any of your toys with Sophie. We asked you to pick out a few toys to share and you refused. And then, when she arrived, you wouldn't leave her side. You grabbed her hand and wanted to show her all your toys and how to play with them. You wanted her to play with you in the sandbox, and in the school bus, and at the sink. In fact, you wouldn't leave her alone.
You started school last month, and so far we haven't gotten any reports that you hit anyone, or locked yourself in the bathroom, or flushed crayons down the toilet. The first day of school I was the one who cried, not you. You just said, "Bye, Mama, I'll see you later," and that was that. All around you kids screamed themselves blue, but you just marched off to find the trains.
"Do some kids cry when they get dropped off at school?" I asked you once.
"Yes," you said.
"Why do you think they're crying?" I asked.
"I don't know," you said, as though you couldn't even begin to fathom what there could be to cry about.
A few weeks later, when we actually totally forgot you at school, by the time I finally got to the school to pick you up you were just sitting there playing with some toy cars. "What happened?" you asked, understandably, but that was it. I would have been in tears. Even if I'd been 15. But not you -- you take everything in stride.
We've got some big changes coming, so let's hope you continue to be just as easy going as you are now.
Love,
Mama
You've been tough the last few weeks, little chicken. You had a bad cold, were getting two new molars, and took the opportunity to throw a couple of knock-down drag-out bang-your-fists-on-the-floor tantrums. You said no to everything. You were waking up crying several times a night, refusing to nap, screaming about only eating tortellini and throwing your toys. And then, just as quickly as it came, that phase ended and left you sweeter and more enjoyable than ever. You were settling down for your nap the other day when I sneezed on the other side of the wall and you yelled, "Bless you, Mama!" You turned to me the other day and, apropos of nothing said, "Mama, I love you so much."
A few weeks ago you insisted that you did not want a little sister under any circumstances. You lobbied for an older brother. When we pointed out that an older brother would probably want to play with your trains you changed your mind and said, "Actually, I want it to just be me and Mama and Dad." And then, magically, about a week ago you began talking about the fun things you could do with your little sister. You picked out a few baby toys in the playroom and said, "This would be a good toy for the little sister."
Sometimes you're all talk, all bravado and not much else. We had a small party this weekend, where one of the guests was a 1 1/2 year old girl named Sophie. Before the party you said you weren't going to share any of your toys with Sophie. We asked you to pick out a few toys to share and you refused. And then, when she arrived, you wouldn't leave her side. You grabbed her hand and wanted to show her all your toys and how to play with them. You wanted her to play with you in the sandbox, and in the school bus, and at the sink. In fact, you wouldn't leave her alone.
You started school last month, and so far we haven't gotten any reports that you hit anyone, or locked yourself in the bathroom, or flushed crayons down the toilet. The first day of school I was the one who cried, not you. You just said, "Bye, Mama, I'll see you later," and that was that. All around you kids screamed themselves blue, but you just marched off to find the trains.
"Do some kids cry when they get dropped off at school?" I asked you once.
"Yes," you said.
"Why do you think they're crying?" I asked.
"I don't know," you said, as though you couldn't even begin to fathom what there could be to cry about.
A few weeks later, when we actually totally forgot you at school, by the time I finally got to the school to pick you up you were just sitting there playing with some toy cars. "What happened?" you asked, understandably, but that was it. I would have been in tears. Even if I'd been 15. But not you -- you take everything in stride.
We've got some big changes coming, so let's hope you continue to be just as easy going as you are now.
Love,
Mama
Labels: Housekeeping
posted by Hana @ 8:07 PM
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