Tidbits

I told Henry, "You're fickle."
He said, "Not that fickle."

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Today in the car I stretched my arm out the window as we drove home from downtown and Henry told me not to do that. I asked him why and he told me that it is dangerous because if the window closed it would break my arm forever and then I would have to throw it away.

Yikes.

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The other night Henry announced that he didn't like diapers and wanted to wear underwear (Hallelujah!), so he climbed into underwear after using the potty. All went well, we were hanging out in his room, him on his big blue bouncy dog, when I asked, "Do you want to pee?"
(I learned a valuable lesson when he just started to pee and I watched it as it ran down his leg and pooled at his feet. The question is not "do you want to pee,", but "do you need to go to the potty?" I know better than this...)

So, we cleaned up, talked about accidents, and Hen went to the bathroom where he used the potty. I got to the bathroom a bit later and dropped my jaw clean to the ground as I watched him stand at big toilet peeing. He turned around as happy as can be and announced that he peed like Daddy. He was so proud and wore underwear until bedtime, didn't want to change to a diaper for bedtime, and then the next day wouldn't wear underwear.

Sigh.

More Tidbits

Henry hit his head on the edge of our futon and cried and cried. It's a wonder we've kept that futon at all as most of Henry's accidents occur on it. I held him and kissed him and rocked him until he got up with his hand on his ear - apparently he hit it on the wood of the futon frame. Through his sniffling he asked, "Is my ear broken?"

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One day Henry and I were singing a Sesame Street song called, Put the Duckie Down - and it's a very fun and jazzy tune - one that is easily improvised upon - and we were really cutting a rug and crooning - and then when it was all over we were getting ready to go out and I could not get that tune out of my head. Now, it was less enjoyable. I said to Hen that I couldn't get it out of my head and he came over to me announcing he would help me. He placed his hands on my head and rubbed, gently running his hands through my hair as if to rid my head of the song. It was very sweet. "There." He said walking away.

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The other night as I was getting books for bedtime I heard a weird noise. I turned around and Walter had our nighttime snack of banana in his hands and he was biting into it from the side. It hadn't yet been peeled.

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Hen and I were picking up sticks in our backyard after some trees had been taken down and we were playing the Toy Story characters - I have been badly stereotyped as "Pretend Jessie" while Hen gets to play "Pretend Woody" and "Pretend Buzz" interchangeably. Sometimes - well, often - I screwed up and called Hen "sweet love" or "honey" and I was sharply reprimanded that I was out of character and he was whoever he was at that moment other than my Sweet Love.

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I was putting Walter down for bed and Henry followed me into his room holding his dolls. As I put Walt down, Jessie and Woody had an animated, loud whispered discussion that went something like this:
Jessie would blather about something to which Woody would reply, "Shhh!"
Jessie: Quiet!
Woody: Shhh!

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Henry and I were playing "coffeeshop" where Henry inquires about whether I would like some coffee, I say yes, he prepares it for me, gives it to me and then says, "Would you like some money?"
Well, while I wish more coffeeshop visits ended this way, I informed Hen that actually it's my job to pay him, so I say, "No, honey, I owe you."
He replies with, "Ok, here's your coffee and the ee-i-oh."

Tidbits

Thanks Hen...
I came home tonight from "an evening out" (of charting, running to the grocery store, and grabbing a dinner to go -- whoopie!!), and it was a slice of heaven to walk into a quiet house. Sydney, my now beloved babysitter/banker, had both kids sleeping and recounted the evening to me. From her I learned that I forgot to tell her an integral piece of Henry's bedtime ritual: he drinks milk. A whole vat of it if he can get it (and we're happy to give it to him as he is so darn thin and it's whole milk). And, that when he asks for milk usually he requests "blue milk and white milk" which is vanilla soy and regular - but anyway, she managed. Another neglected point was that he has to go to sleep with his dolls ("the gang" - Woody, Jessie, and Buzz - although Buzz is never allowed to sleep in bed and Henry has to create a nest for him as he is too loud for bed). Again, Sydney rocked and managed it all with no problem.

She confessed that she spilled a little milk on our kitchen floor (our floor that is cleaned biannually, mind you), and that Henry informed her that she wasn't supposed to do that.

Thanks, Hen.

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These days I'm pushing hard to get Henry to consider potty training. I talked to him today about how all his friends at school use the potty and wear underwear and asked him what he is concerned about regarding leaving diapers. I promised him that Mama, Daddy, and Teachers will still help him whenever he needs it. He said, "Mama, Daddy, and Teachers don't know how to do it."

I promised him that I thought we could figure it out.

He is so ready, and yet so not ready. He will get excited to put on his new underwear, then when they are halfway on he announces that "they aren't right," and want them off. I go into the whole "new normal" thing, but he's already tuned me out.

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I was really annoyed at this woman the other day at the Co-Op. Henry was well past nap time and we were all a little ragged. As he was getting pineapple rings, the swinging door that leads to the back swung open and hit his little cart which then bumped him and he fell. Now, I wasn't mad at the woman who opened the door - she couldn't see him and spent a lot of time talking to him afterwards to ensure he was ok, and the fact of the matter was that I think he hadn't been standing very firmly when the cart gently careened into him so I think he just lost his balance (from what I saw), and I think more than anything he was surprised and a little embarrassed. But after that he was amped up a little and snarling at folks. Enter said woman: she is about 6 feet away from me, looks at me and mouths something.

"I'm sorry?" I ask. Immediately I think she is going to ask if she can help me as sometimes I get that at the Co-Op. I lean in a bit. She mouths something to me again.

Well, now I'm pissed. WHAT?? - I want to holler. I should point out that this woman is not old and as far as I can tell from the fact that she had just finished a lengthy conversation with another woman, she is indeed audible - so why the (*&!!#@ can she not speak up??? You might think I'm being harsh, but picture this scenario. My tired boy is charging his little cart down the aisle growling at unsuspecting customers, I have a baby in my cart, and I'm held up begging some stranger to speak her words rather than whisper them. And, here's something - I don't really give a flying ^$#@! what she has to say.

I say with a smidgen of tone, "I can't hear you." And this is what she replies (and in retrospect I have to say she was a bit daring), "Are you having fun yet?"

I genuinely think she was trying to be... well, I cannot exactly say what on earth she was thinking, and I choose not to share what I was thinking at that point, but suffice to say, I later fantasized that I socked her. Instead, I smiled, and said (and meant it, sort of), "Every day's a party!"