We're now at five days with no accidents. None.
Some how we finally found the right incentives (bribes) (youtube time and matchbox trucks taped to the wall to help him remember what he wants), and he uses the potty.
Interestingly enough, last week I was almost ready to put him back in diapers, because he just didn't seem to care, and was passively resisting all my efforts. ("Uh-oh! I did peepee on the floor. That is NOT awesome!" he would report.) My efforts were failing, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to fight. I prayed a lot to know if there was a correct answer, and what that might be. While we were failing, he was wearing pull-ups because he's right, peeing on the floor is not awesome (but it is super funny to hear him talk about).
But he was getting a rash. So one day I put him back in underwear. And I remembered, this is what I want. And sometimes its okay to do things according to a parents schedule. That day I was supervigilant about taking him, often, and we found the right bribes, and here we are, with everything working the way it should. It's a miracle. (A miracle that happens for almost all people, but every mom thinks its a miracle every time, I'm sure!)
He's still not good about using the potty outside of the house, but he can hold it for forever, so I'm sure that will come when it's time. I'm so relieved.
Showing posts with label the boy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the boy. Show all posts
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Monday, May 30, 2016
new attitudes about church
The boy did not want to go to church yesterday. He wanted to go outside and play in the sand. He cried as we headed to church. "I want to stay with daddy," he called out. I would then tell him (again) that Daddy was already at church, and we were going too.
"I not want to go to church!" he said again. Having grown up since Babs said the same thing every Sunday, instead of saying "we go to church, and that's what we do," I explained that we love Heavenly Father, and going to church is one of the ways we can show that. None of this made him want to be at church any more than before.
During Sacrament Meeting, he heard a baby crying. Instead of last week's sweet comment about the sad baby, but he's happy, he said the following: "Hear that sad baby? He not want to be at church." (I may have laughed a little.)
He was happy to be heading off to nursery after sacrament meeting though. Except the building A/C was broken, so we only had Sacrament Meeting. The kids were surprised when we told them we were going home. The boy recovered quickly when I told him he could play in the sand when we got home.
But Babs cried the whole way home, because she couldn't go to primary. She was so sad to miss her "little class." There was no distracting her from her sorrow. The crying was irritating, but it couldn't quite take the joy out of my heart that Babs actually wanted to be at church!
"I not want to go to church!" he said again. Having grown up since Babs said the same thing every Sunday, instead of saying "we go to church, and that's what we do," I explained that we love Heavenly Father, and going to church is one of the ways we can show that. None of this made him want to be at church any more than before.
During Sacrament Meeting, he heard a baby crying. Instead of last week's sweet comment about the sad baby, but he's happy, he said the following: "Hear that sad baby? He not want to be at church." (I may have laughed a little.)
He was happy to be heading off to nursery after sacrament meeting though. Except the building A/C was broken, so we only had Sacrament Meeting. The kids were surprised when we told them we were going home. The boy recovered quickly when I told him he could play in the sand when we got home.
But Babs cried the whole way home, because she couldn't go to primary. She was so sad to miss her "little class." There was no distracting her from her sorrow. The crying was irritating, but it couldn't quite take the joy out of my heart that Babs actually wanted to be at church!
Saturday, May 21, 2016
what's your name?
For many weeks, when the boy was asked his name, he would reply: BOY!
Of course, they would then ask again. Then he would reply: BIG BOY!
(Well, big boys are stinky, so they use deodorant, probably not their mother's though...)
(And big boys smile.)
And sometimes he is, a big boy that is. For example if he has an potty accident it's because he chooses to, not because he doesn't know how to do it right (which is small consolation in the moment).
But sometimes he is a "small boy." That's when he either a) doesn't want to do things that big boys do (participate in scripture reading, use the potty, come when he's called), or b) can't do the things that big boys do (go to school, reach high things, mow the lawn, etc.) So when he announces to us that "I a small boy" it is either with defiance, or sorrow.
Two. It's a confusing age.
Of course, they would then ask again. Then he would reply: BIG BOY!
And sometimes he is, a big boy that is. For example if he has an potty accident it's because he chooses to, not because he doesn't know how to do it right (which is small consolation in the moment).
But sometimes he is a "small boy." That's when he either a) doesn't want to do things that big boys do (participate in scripture reading, use the potty, come when he's called), or b) can't do the things that big boys do (go to school, reach high things, mow the lawn, etc.) So when he announces to us that "I a small boy" it is either with defiance, or sorrow.
Two. It's a confusing age.
Monday, May 16, 2016
in my ears
The boy is really focusing on what he hears right now. (I have never worried about his hearing.)
He pauses, then says "I hear something in my ears..." This means we have to identify the noise. So I have to stop filtering the background noise, focus on it, and figure out what sound he is paying attention to. I listed a bunch of things the other day, none of which were right.
"It goes 'ti ti'" he said, as I figured it out. "Oh, it's the clock," I said, pointing, where he can see the second hand move with each tick. He was very pleased.
He also hears babies crying. At the store I mentioned that usually means the baby is sad. So now when he hears a baby cry, he tells me, "You hear that baby cry? That baby is sad. I not sad. I happy!"
He pauses, then says "I hear something in my ears..." This means we have to identify the noise. So I have to stop filtering the background noise, focus on it, and figure out what sound he is paying attention to. I listed a bunch of things the other day, none of which were right.
"It goes 'ti ti'" he said, as I figured it out. "Oh, it's the clock," I said, pointing, where he can see the second hand move with each tick. He was very pleased.
He also hears babies crying. At the store I mentioned that usually means the baby is sad. So now when he hears a baby cry, he tells me, "You hear that baby cry? That baby is sad. I not sad. I happy!"
Monday, May 9, 2016
well contented child
At church, the boy was sitting on my lap. He was being snuggly, sucking his thumb and massaging my neck. Then he leaned over onto his dad's shoulder, and grabbed his neck too, then maneuvered himself so he was snuggling with both of us. He does this often, and also in the morning when he wakes up before we're ready to be out of bed.
I looked at him, and thought "This is a child who is surrounded by love, what a tremendous way for him to start his life." And I was grateful I could provide that for him.
***
A few days ago he announced to me "cheeks are for kissing!" and I've been taking advantage of that statement ever since. (Not that I wasn't before.)
I looked at him, and thought "This is a child who is surrounded by love, what a tremendous way for him to start his life." And I was grateful I could provide that for him.
***
A few days ago he announced to me "cheeks are for kissing!" and I've been taking advantage of that statement ever since. (Not that I wasn't before.)
Monday, May 2, 2016
sweet music
I just needed 10 minutes to rest. I've been fighting a headache for days now, and I just needed a few minutes. The kids were all playing quietly, it seemed the right moment.
First the boy told me he had spilled his yogurt. And sure enough he had. So we cleaned that up. Then I walked back to my room to try to reclaim the seven minutes I had left.
Then the boy climbed up into the bed with me. "Play kindle?" he asks. My gut reaction was: no! No more screens! But then I thought about how he'd played nicely with the little girl I babysat that afternoon. We'd been outside twice. He helped clean up his snack. And it seemed like maybe it would be okay. But I just wanted to rest...
So I told him: I need to rest. You cannot play kindle until it goes off. You can sing songs, or read books until I am ready to help you.
A few minutes later I hear a decidedly atonal, but gentle, music coming from the piano. Who is playing the piano I wondered? then heard his sweet little voice. He was singing songs, just like directed. He's such a good little dude.
First the boy told me he had spilled his yogurt. And sure enough he had. So we cleaned that up. Then I walked back to my room to try to reclaim the seven minutes I had left.
Then the boy climbed up into the bed with me. "Play kindle?" he asks. My gut reaction was: no! No more screens! But then I thought about how he'd played nicely with the little girl I babysat that afternoon. We'd been outside twice. He helped clean up his snack. And it seemed like maybe it would be okay. But I just wanted to rest...
So I told him: I need to rest. You cannot play kindle until it goes off. You can sing songs, or read books until I am ready to help you.
A few minutes later I hear a decidedly atonal, but gentle, music coming from the piano. Who is playing the piano I wondered? then heard his sweet little voice. He was singing songs, just like directed. He's such a good little dude.
failure or success?
Have I failed my children because I have long breaks in writing about our family, or have I succeeded because I have written a lot, and many things have been remembered? I believe that it's some of both. Which, is probably just an accurate reflection on life.
Potty training the boy is another example of balancing between failure and success. We are succeeding, slowly, slowly, with plenty of hiccups along the way. For example, yesterday for the first time ever, he used a public restroom! And it's not guaranteed that he'll do number 2 in his underwear. And number 1 is fully settled, unless he chooses not to. Whenever I get disappointed by the time frame of it all, I remember that we have only been doing this for three months, and we're making lots of progress. I expect to be done by summer, which in reality, is how long it takes to be truly done. Some days we do great, and some days we don't, but every time I am ready to throw my hands up in despair, he manages one more success, real success, so we keep moving on.
Potty training the boy is another example of balancing between failure and success. We are succeeding, slowly, slowly, with plenty of hiccups along the way. For example, yesterday for the first time ever, he used a public restroom! And it's not guaranteed that he'll do number 2 in his underwear. And number 1 is fully settled, unless he chooses not to. Whenever I get disappointed by the time frame of it all, I remember that we have only been doing this for three months, and we're making lots of progress. I expect to be done by summer, which in reality, is how long it takes to be truly done. Some days we do great, and some days we don't, but every time I am ready to throw my hands up in despair, he manages one more success, real success, so we keep moving on.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
making plans
Babs loves a good plan. She especially likes to make a diagram so we can see just how the plan will work out. (I love this.)
Two Sundays ago, she had the markers and paper out on her bed, making a plan. She ran to the living room where the boy was, then shouted at him. He looked at her for a moment, then went back to his toys. "Hmm," she muttered, then ran back to her room.
She drew another plan, chortled, then, paper in hand (so she could refer to the plan) she came back to the boy, and did something else. Poked him maybe? Same bemused, quiet, reaction from the boy.
This process went through at least 5 iterations, possibly more. Finally, he could take no more, and when she bugged him again, the boy let out a yell of frustration.
"YES! My plan worked!" she triumphantly cried.
Two Sundays ago, she had the markers and paper out on her bed, making a plan. She ran to the living room where the boy was, then shouted at him. He looked at her for a moment, then went back to his toys. "Hmm," she muttered, then ran back to her room.
She drew another plan, chortled, then, paper in hand (so she could refer to the plan) she came back to the boy, and did something else. Poked him maybe? Same bemused, quiet, reaction from the boy.
This process went through at least 5 iterations, possibly more. Finally, he could take no more, and when she bugged him again, the boy let out a yell of frustration.
"YES! My plan worked!" she triumphantly cried.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
growing up
Babs stood on her tiptoes and hung a hanger in her closet.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I didn't know you could do that. You're getting so tall!"
The boy, who was in the room at the time, drooped his little shoulders and sighed, "I not."
He is in that awkward middle phase. Too small to do the things he wants to (go to school with the girls!), yet being told daily that he is a "big boy" because he uses underwear (mostly successfully). We don't know what size you are either, little guy.
"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I didn't know you could do that. You're getting so tall!"
The boy, who was in the room at the time, drooped his little shoulders and sighed, "I not."
He is in that awkward middle phase. Too small to do the things he wants to (go to school with the girls!), yet being told daily that he is a "big boy" because he uses underwear (mostly successfully). We don't know what size you are either, little guy.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
we got ourselves a runner!
I've taken up sprinting in the last few weeks. I would probably enjoy it more if it wasn't always accompanied by the heart pounding fear of whether I would catch up with the Boy in time to stop him from running into the road (a super calm parking lot at the elementary school, not a highway).
I guess I could start running sooner, but then how would he have the thrill of the chase? And the opportunity to practice a little independence?
On the other hand, he almost ran into a moving car (which was going approximately one mile an hour) today, so whatever slight free range opportunities he had in a parking lot are gone, gone, gone.
I guess I could start running sooner, but then how would he have the thrill of the chase? And the opportunity to practice a little independence?
On the other hand, he almost ran into a moving car (which was going approximately one mile an hour) today, so whatever slight free range opportunities he had in a parking lot are gone, gone, gone.
Saturday, February 20, 2016
now I know my a, b, c's...
The boy is loving his alphabet (even if he does call them "numbers"). For a long time he only knew "O" (and would spot it everywhere). He now knows, well, more than I think he does, but less than half. He also does a fantastic rendition of the abc song, thanks again to nursery.
So we read alphabet books. And talk about what starts with the various letters. He may know some of his letters, but he has no sense for the sounds and correlating that with words. (Which is fine. He's two. I'm in no rush.) I have two stories about this:
The other day I was reading a magazine article about cattle, well it was actually about big animal veterinarians, but because most of the pictures were of cows, that what we called it, the pictures of the cows. Like any good article, the first letter was in a large font, followed by the tiny letters. "Whatz that?" the boy asks as he points at the letter. "A 'T'" I reply. "Oh, T for tows!" he happily announces, because he can't yet pronounce the "k" sound. I have no answer for that one.
As we were going through the alphabet, "B is for baby," "R is for rhinoceros" etc., until we got to the end. "Z for seeping!" he tells me. I pause, about to say, no z is for... until I realize he told me "z is for sleeping." It most certainly is.
So we read alphabet books. And talk about what starts with the various letters. He may know some of his letters, but he has no sense for the sounds and correlating that with words. (Which is fine. He's two. I'm in no rush.) I have two stories about this:
The other day I was reading a magazine article about cattle, well it was actually about big animal veterinarians, but because most of the pictures were of cows, that what we called it, the pictures of the cows. Like any good article, the first letter was in a large font, followed by the tiny letters. "Whatz that?" the boy asks as he points at the letter. "A 'T'" I reply. "Oh, T for tows!" he happily announces, because he can't yet pronounce the "k" sound. I have no answer for that one.
As we were going through the alphabet, "B is for baby," "R is for rhinoceros" etc., until we got to the end. "Z for seeping!" he tells me. I pause, about to say, no z is for... until I realize he told me "z is for sleeping." It most certainly is.
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Thursday, February 11, 2016
the last two weeks
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
we love trucks
Surely there is nothing more adorable than a little boy who gets excited as the mail is delivered.
"It's the mail bus!"
oh, yes it is.
"It's the mail bus!"
oh, yes it is.
Monday, February 8, 2016
"what happened to my parents?" - a post by the boy
Just two weeks ago my parents and I had a robust relationship. They read me books, played dinosaur, helped me find my trucks 10 times a day, and mom took me shopping multiple times a week (I love shop-ping!) but recently everything has changed.
They have taken away my diapers and insisted that I wear these underwear things. Don't they know they get wet? And when they get wet, so do my pants and socks! Talk about uncomfortable.
But I can't wear them all the time, no, multiple times a day I have to take them off and sit on a small green chair with a hole in it. Sometimes they read me stories there, or let me watch videos on the phone, but sometimes they look sadly at me, and sigh heavily. They also try to feed me M&Ms there, but how many M&Ms does a boy really need?
And now the only thing they talk about is the potty. "Do you have to go to the potty?" "Come sit on the potty." "I'm so proud of you for using the potty." "It's time to use the potty."
When do things get back to normal?
They have taken away my diapers and insisted that I wear these underwear things. Don't they know they get wet? And when they get wet, so do my pants and socks! Talk about uncomfortable.
But I can't wear them all the time, no, multiple times a day I have to take them off and sit on a small green chair with a hole in it. Sometimes they read me stories there, or let me watch videos on the phone, but sometimes they look sadly at me, and sigh heavily. They also try to feed me M&Ms there, but how many M&Ms does a boy really need?
And now the only thing they talk about is the potty. "Do you have to go to the potty?" "Come sit on the potty." "I'm so proud of you for using the potty." "It's time to use the potty."
When do things get back to normal?
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
day three
No dirty underwear today. There were two (three?) reasons for this:
1) Between helping a friend with a life crisis and nap time (plus playing in the rain time), he spent a lot of the day in diapers. I kind of feel like I'm shooting myself in the foot with this choice, but I'm also not clear how to work around it.
2) When I tried to get him back out of diapers at the end of the day he just yelled "No, no, no!" and I didn't have the emotional strength to fight back.
3) When he wasn't actually wearing diapers, he wouldn't wear underwear either. He went commando under his pants.
But, when he had no diaper, and no underwear, he was successful at getting all his business in the potty.
I am now praying for him to have a change of heart and desire to wear underwear. It is clear that he can handle it when he chooses too.
(Look- all the children have rain boots that fit and have no holes. It's a miracle! and fun... if only my winter boots that I chose to wear yesterday didn't have holes in them, it would have been a great afternoon. But my feet got really wet.)
1) Between helping a friend with a life crisis and nap time (plus playing in the rain time), he spent a lot of the day in diapers. I kind of feel like I'm shooting myself in the foot with this choice, but I'm also not clear how to work around it.
2) When I tried to get him back out of diapers at the end of the day he just yelled "No, no, no!" and I didn't have the emotional strength to fight back.
3) When he wasn't actually wearing diapers, he wouldn't wear underwear either. He went commando under his pants.
But, when he had no diaper, and no underwear, he was successful at getting all his business in the potty.
I am now praying for him to have a change of heart and desire to wear underwear. It is clear that he can handle it when he chooses too.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
diapers are not forever
Three weeks ago the boy wouldn't put a diaper on in the afternoon, and instead wandered the house with no pants. I asked if he wanted underwear and a potty, he answered yes. So a very happy husband (who's wanted to do this for about nine months) took his son out to Target to buy a little potty and some underwear, with "dinosaurns". Except that wasn't a good week to start. And the next week the girls had early release every day. The week after that was no school because of the storm. I told myself: once they are back in school, we're doing this!
Why am I so reluctant? Babs. We first tried when she was 2 years 4 months (aug 2012 if you want a refresher of good stories). Then we potty trained her on an off for years. We'd start and stop, and start and stop... It was then that I learned she was truly unbribe-able (which is, yeah, a good thing, but still, I needed her to take the bribe!). At her parent teacher conferences for preschool (age 4 1/2), the teachers mentioned she'd had two accidents (in three months). I replied, "I know! Isn't that awesome?!" And with new perspective they cheered along with me. (A shout out to my fellow home preschool teachers, who let me send a partially potty trained girl to their house in underwear many times.) I just can't handle that again.
So I put off training the boy. And I've fully informed my husband that if this doesn't take quickly, I'm shelving the project for another few months.
BUT- Yesterday, Day 1, he had two accidents, and both of those were my fault, because I let him go too long without putting him on the potty. We have five pairs of underwear, we finished the day with 2 left over. (Yet, his diaper from his nap was VERY wet, so obviously he was holding some in.)
Day 2, he's had more accidents (largely because of the 16 ounces of water he drank while the girls did gymnastics), no left over underwear today. But, he also successfully did #1 and #2. He insists on emptying his potty into the toilet. He was happy at the end of the day. He even happily told me about his accident, and showed me the cloth he used to clean it up. (I had to do some touch up work.)
It's entirely possible that he will be in a good place by the end of the week. I am trying so hard not to sabotage this by my ambivalence to the process. Diapers are so easy..., but, as our book says, diapers are not forever. And maybe, just maybe, they'll be out of our life very soon.
Why am I so reluctant? Babs. We first tried when she was 2 years 4 months (aug 2012 if you want a refresher of good stories). Then we potty trained her on an off for years. We'd start and stop, and start and stop... It was then that I learned she was truly unbribe-able (which is, yeah, a good thing, but still, I needed her to take the bribe!). At her parent teacher conferences for preschool (age 4 1/2), the teachers mentioned she'd had two accidents (in three months). I replied, "I know! Isn't that awesome?!" And with new perspective they cheered along with me. (A shout out to my fellow home preschool teachers, who let me send a partially potty trained girl to their house in underwear many times.) I just can't handle that again.
So I put off training the boy. And I've fully informed my husband that if this doesn't take quickly, I'm shelving the project for another few months.
BUT- Yesterday, Day 1, he had two accidents, and both of those were my fault, because I let him go too long without putting him on the potty. We have five pairs of underwear, we finished the day with 2 left over. (Yet, his diaper from his nap was VERY wet, so obviously he was holding some in.)
Day 2, he's had more accidents (largely because of the 16 ounces of water he drank while the girls did gymnastics), no left over underwear today. But, he also successfully did #1 and #2. He insists on emptying his potty into the toilet. He was happy at the end of the day. He even happily told me about his accident, and showed me the cloth he used to clean it up. (I had to do some touch up work.)
It's entirely possible that he will be in a good place by the end of the week. I am trying so hard not to sabotage this by my ambivalence to the process. Diapers are so easy..., but, as our book says, diapers are not forever. And maybe, just maybe, they'll be out of our life very soon.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
their electronic life
My mom sent a text to the boy, after he wanted to facetime with her, and she was unavailable.
I have often been reluctant to share text messages to my children, wondering how on earth they could understand the idea of a message being passed from one of us to the other so quickly.
Then I thought, I never explained a plate to them, I just used the word of something that was clearly part of their life until they put the item and the label together. Same with phone call. A text for them is like a phone call for me when I was little. Just a part of life.
***
Yesterday when I was trying not to be a dragon for my kids (my husband was off the hook because he was making dinner), Babs replied "She can't be a dragon, she can only be the woman who looks at her phone." Ouch.
In my defense, I was reading an ebook. But is that really better than browsing the internet in how it looks to my kids? Also in my defense, we'd had two extra little people at our house all afternoon (an early release day) so I was a little frazzled. I also wasn't currently on my phone, but trying to set the table. After allowing enough of a gap that she wouldn't know that comment was what changed my mind, I was (briefly) a dragon.
In my attempts to find the right balance of how much time to be electronically engaged around my children, clearly in the last few days I've missed the mark.
I have often been reluctant to share text messages to my children, wondering how on earth they could understand the idea of a message being passed from one of us to the other so quickly.
Then I thought, I never explained a plate to them, I just used the word of something that was clearly part of their life until they put the item and the label together. Same with phone call. A text for them is like a phone call for me when I was little. Just a part of life.
***
Yesterday when I was trying not to be a dragon for my kids (my husband was off the hook because he was making dinner), Babs replied "She can't be a dragon, she can only be the woman who looks at her phone." Ouch.
In my defense, I was reading an ebook. But is that really better than browsing the internet in how it looks to my kids? Also in my defense, we'd had two extra little people at our house all afternoon (an early release day) so I was a little frazzled. I also wasn't currently on my phone, but trying to set the table. After allowing enough of a gap that she wouldn't know that comment was what changed my mind, I was (briefly) a dragon.
In my attempts to find the right balance of how much time to be electronically engaged around my children, clearly in the last few days I've missed the mark.
Monday, January 18, 2016
the neck squeeze
The problem with not blogging consistently is that I don't know what I've covered and not.
So first a memory: when the boy was very small, he would cover his eyes and suck his thumb. Adorable. And hysterical. Here's a good shot:
Then as he got bigger, he stopped covering his eyes, and instead started burying his head in my neck, so his face wouldn't show. Here he is last winter, at a friend's house. He didn't open his eyes the entire time we were there, but did hold his hand out for a donut when he heard the bag rustle. He ate it with his eyes closed.
And for a season he grabbed his neck and sucked his thumb.
And then it was his armpit, which was really funny.I don't think I ever got a picture of that, though I tried.
And now his comfort item of choice is... our neck (mine or my husband's, whoever is holding him).
Head on shoulder (sometimes facing out, sometimes facing in) with hand firmly there. Sometimes he squeezes a little. He used to squeeze a lot, but it hurt so we convinced him to be gentle.
The other day a friend was saying something to me, then stopped mid sentence to laugh, "I just noticed you were being strangled."
I really don't notice any more; it's what he does. As I said to her, "Yeah, it's weird, but I know I'll miss it when it goes away."
Then there's the story my husband told me. He puts the boy to bed most nights. The other night the boy was very restless. He tried to climb down from the chair they were rocking in, he tried to climb off, and finally just sank down as low as he could on my husband's lap to protest the going to bed. Then suddenly the Boy's hand shot up, grabbed my husband's neck, squeezed for a bit, then he quickly fell asleep.
So first a memory: when the boy was very small, he would cover his eyes and suck his thumb. Adorable. And hysterical. Here's a good shot:
Then as he got bigger, he stopped covering his eyes, and instead started burying his head in my neck, so his face wouldn't show. Here he is last winter, at a friend's house. He didn't open his eyes the entire time we were there, but did hold his hand out for a donut when he heard the bag rustle. He ate it with his eyes closed.
And for a season he grabbed his neck and sucked his thumb.
And then it was his armpit, which was really funny.I don't think I ever got a picture of that, though I tried.
And now his comfort item of choice is... our neck (mine or my husband's, whoever is holding him).
The other day a friend was saying something to me, then stopped mid sentence to laugh, "I just noticed you were being strangled."
I really don't notice any more; it's what he does. As I said to her, "Yeah, it's weird, but I know I'll miss it when it goes away."
Then there's the story my husband told me. He puts the boy to bed most nights. The other night the boy was very restless. He tried to climb down from the chair they were rocking in, he tried to climb off, and finally just sank down as low as he could on my husband's lap to protest the going to bed. Then suddenly the Boy's hand shot up, grabbed my husband's neck, squeezed for a bit, then he quickly fell asleep.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
the animal in the house
Although the choice was to sit in the car while running errands in the freezing cold with mom or watch TV cuddled up with dad, the boy chose to come with me in the car. As I scooped him out of the car to run into the house (he of course was only wearing jammies with a blanket poorly thrown around his shoulders) he put his arms tight around my neck and his legs tight around my waist.
"Are you my little monkey?" I teased.
"No!" he laughed.
Knowing that he is sensitive about his status as a boy (and sometimes a baby), I continued "Are you my little boy?"
"No!"
"My baby?"
"No, am porupyne!" he replied with a laugh.
"Wait, did you just say you were my porcupine?" I asked him.
"Yes!" he gleefully called out.
So right now, he's my porcupine... unless you ask, then "am monkey!"... unless you ask, then "am porupyne!"
"Are you my little monkey?" I teased.
"No!" he laughed.
Knowing that he is sensitive about his status as a boy (and sometimes a baby), I continued "Are you my little boy?"
"No!"
"My baby?"
"No, am porupyne!" he replied with a laugh.
"Wait, did you just say you were my porcupine?" I asked him.
"Yes!" he gleefully called out.
So right now, he's my porcupine... unless you ask, then "am monkey!"... unless you ask, then "am porupyne!"
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