Our refrigerator went out, so, at the moment, all our fridge stuff is either stored on a spare shelf in Mike’s aunt’s fridge, or in coolers in our kitchen. It turns out that the coolers not only serve as food storage devices, but as chairs, stools and tables. I served Penny and Jesse lunch at the counter today, but returned to find them here:
That hasn’t much to do with any thing, but here, well, here is something:
He carted it outside for a moment, but then came running back in the house all full of excitement shouting, “Mom! Mom! Where’s the blue tape?!”
“What?” I asked, “It’s in the drawer, bud, but why do you need it?”
“I think this fits in it!” He shouted, hardly able to contain his enthusiasm, as he held the plug in the air.
It is a wonder to me how that little boy’s mind works – the connections it looks for. I might have connected “sink drain plug” with “sink” if I were making a connection at all, but I am quite certain I would never have connected it with the hollow ring from a roll of painter’s tape.
Still, things are not all sunshine and sparkles and . . . blue tape with Jesse. The other day I was forced to put him IN the shopping cart at the grocery store. We have an agreement that he can walk, as he insists he must, so long as he stays by me. I consider myself fairly loose in my enforcement of the deal. I continually call to him to keep up, put that can back, stay by me, etc. But on this particular trip he had strayed too far and been given his warnings one too many times, so, sadly, into the cart he went. He began to sob, and then shout. I am sure that, had he known how to curse like a sailor he would have been, instead he began throwing out various angry/sobbing pleas and threats – some about me being a bad mom and some about how he was going to put ME in the cart. Poor kid. In the end, his anger usually switches to just needing me to hug him, but I did like that he was going to put me in the cart.
And then there are other sad moments where discovery and adventure are ruined by unforeseen problems.
I’m not so heartless of a mother that I would keep taking documentary style photos while my child is in pain. Or, maybe I sort of am, but I didn’t realize what he’d done at first (as I took the above picture). When I did, I quickly got the fella a Band-Aid. After a few hugs, he seemed to think he was maybe going to be all right . . .
Here was a little of his recent chatter:
After I had talked to him about not opening the front door when someone knocks (as he always runs to do) because it might not be somebody he knows, he repeated the rule like this: “We never open doors because it might be a stranger, and only dad opens doors. Because dad’s the best at opening doors.”
Mike is a good door opener for certain.
Also, after I got back from the gym: Jesse came toddling by saying, “Mom! This caramel is delicious! I . . . aggh . . . I hurt my tooth!”
Me: “Are you OK? Do you need a love?”
“No. I think I’m . . . yah, I think I do need a love.”
He comes in for a hug, then sighs in a this-will-never-do sort of way, “You’re too sweaty”.
I did say I just got back from the gym.
This little Jesse of mine sure keeps life entertaining. I love him. A lot.