Tuesdays with Walter

Posted by Kevin......

Henry is in pre-school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This is a wonderful time for Walter and me to hang out without the constant interruptions from his big brother.

However, Walt seems to be satisfied with the current level of attention he usually gets, and finds my constant requests for additional hugs and the elaborate "scenario set ups" of his toys on these school days to be annoying interruptions.

While he is downright magnanimous the first seven or thirty times I stop him in his tracks to pick him up and squeeze the tuna salad out of him, eventually he sneaks off to some secluded* corner of our house to engage in a little "me time".

*(editor's note: it's no insignificant feat that Walter can find seclusion within it's confines of our outgrown, hectic home.)

And when things get quiet for more than a minute and Walter is not in my immediate sight, well I get nervous. But it seems that THIS son is content to curl up with a good book, or a crayon and paper, or even a crayon AND a good book*.

*(This usually does not end well for that book.)

Here are the observations from today:

-Walter was in Henry's room. I peeked in and he was sitting on the floor leafing through a book. After he turned each page, he briefly stuck a finger in each ear. Apparently the action in the book was quite loud.

-I watched as Walter placed a toy horse and a toy cow on the tracks of the sliding back door. But instead of slamming the door shut on them, he slowly turned around, looked back at them, then sat on them. He then held out his hand as if to stop the door. Was he protecting them?

-Walt walked up to me in the kitchen and showed me he had my spare car keys. He said something I didn't understand, then walked away. Next I see him at the front door trying to stick the key in the door handle. Where's he going? What's his plan? He doesn't have any money.

-I watched him while he ate lunch. He looked down at his bowl of veggies, opened his mouth as wide as he could and very slowly lowered his face into the bowl. This is a little trick he learned from his brother. Kind of a set back in the "let's use utensils" department.

-Walter was whimpering in the other room, and when I arrived he was holding a shark in one hand and a dolphin in the other. They were engaged in an epic struggle of life and death as both were locked jaw to jaw. I intervened and of course was immediately hit over the head with both the shark and the dolphin. As he stormed out of the room, a furious Walter continued to scold me for not letting nature determine the outcome of the conflict.

-Walter was walking around with a pen, which I promptly traded him for a crayon. That's because I'm an attentive parent. Later, I found the paper cover from the crayon....but no crayon. Something tells me his diaper is going to be a little more "burnt sienna" than usual.

Tidbits

Kev was putting Henry down for bed the other night so I said my goodnights to him and sat down to read, wondering how long it would be before he finagled his way back into the living room. Sure enough, out he trundled as I heard Kevin pleading with him to return. He toodled around a little and stood in front of me. He stared, and waited. I looked up at him. He was holding his monkey, a book, and a blanket.
"What are you doing?" I ask peering at him over my book.
"I had to get this book, my sweetie heart, and the book so Daddy can read it to me."
Now, it's likely that that isn't where it ended - he probably continued to chatter at me about whatever, but he had me at "sweetie heart".

----

The other night Henry informed me that he had pooped and that he was in discomfort. While this is relatively unusual, it's a sign of diaper rash. So, we hustled back to his room to change his diaper, and I was surprised to see that in fact, he hadn't pooped, and there was no diaper rash per se, but that the diaper had rubbed the inside of his thigh and that was pretty pink.

I said to him, "Oh, I bet you have a little burn," which I realize now is about as clear as mud to anyone, let alone a toddler.
And, he replied, "It's not a burn, Mama, it's diaper mash."
He just makes me giggle and giggle.

-----

I got a time out last night.
I swear to God, I didn't do anything to deserve it.
Here's how it happened:
Henry and I were tussling, gently, and I had him "in my powerhouse and he could not fire escape" (this is, in all reality, probably the problem and the reason for my punishment), and the next thing that I know is that he announces to me that I hit him in his face (later the story blossomed into my hitting him in his eye -- TOTALLY UNTRUE). So, I'm sitting there looking at him thinking, did I hit him? I didn't hit him... He's not upset or crying - and I've had my eyes on him this whole time --- and I think, he's pulling my leg.

Ok, I think, whatever. So, I allow him the "fire escape" and apologize if I hurt him, at which point he launches into a lecture about how I need a time out because hitting is "really not nice" and I have to stay on the couch for 2 minutes until he tells me I can get up. (He had his pointer finger out and everything - just like I do it). So, off he goes to go play by himself.

I lay there for a moment, but clearly not long enough to properly devise my strategy because I start yelling, "Come talk to me, come talk to me!" (just like he does), So, Henry, being the sweetest, most giving person I know, marches right over, announces to me what I did that I should be gravely sorry for (just like I do) and says, "Are you going to do it again?"

No, I say sheepishly (even though I didn't do it). "Ok," he says quickly. "You can get up."
Well. That's NOT the way I do it.
"Wait," I say, thinking more strategically now. "Shouldn't I still get my 2 minutes?"
"Ok," he happily agrees.

I lay there on the couch thinking about how little I get to do this, and how I have just been given the best gift in the world.

(However, I should add, that he made me stay there somewhat longer than 2 minutes and it did occur to me that the punishment was harsher than warranted - considering that I didn't do it!)

Tidbits

I'm reading, sitting on a lawn chair in our back garden. I'm not far from the house, and Henry can see me through the back door. He comes to the screen and calls out to me.
"What are you doing, Mama?"
"I'm reading, " I reply.
"Why?"
"Because I want to read."
He's holding a book, and says, "I want to read to, don't talk to me, I want proficy (privacy)."


-----
Yesterday we ran into a neighbor who was grilling turkey dogs. He asked Henry if we have turkey dogs. Henry said, "No," he says sort of sadly, "we just have cats."


------
Sitting in the bathroom, Henry marches in swinging the door open widely. He examines me, then scrunches up his face and asks very seriously if I want "proficy".
"Why yes please," I say.
"Ok," he says, going to stand in the doorway. Staring at me he says, "I'll wait here."
Gee, thanks.

Walter

Walter has 2 favorite books right now, and they are The Big Red Barn, and Mama Mine, Mama Mine - both have a barnyard theme, which is very important. He trundled up to me the other day and held out his book. I continued to do what I was doing as he continued to poke me with his book. Then, his little happy face turned ugly and he screamed a blood curdling cry. This got my attention quickly and as soon as I had the book in hand and opened to the first page his darling, sweet, gentle demeanor was back as he beamed at me while I read, The Big Red Barn. Again.

Toad Hollow

Posted by Kevin....

Stace called me in a panic while I was shopping at the sporting goods store:

"I was weed whacking the garden just now and I killed a huge frog and the weed-eater jammed up and I don't know if I can go back out there because it's just horrible this big frog is just sprawled belly up and it's just TERRIBLE and you have to come home right now and remove it."

I absorb the news: "Jammed in what way?"

Stace: "Oh this is really bad. It was a big frog and he's dead. I hit him with the weed-eater"

I lower my voice: "Did anyone see it happen?"

Stace: "I don't know."

Me: "Can you see the body from the street?"

Stace: "I'm serious, he's out there in the sun, his white belly toward the sky. He's probably drying out right now."

Me: "Alright. I'll be home soon."

Upon my arrival home, Stace was sitting on the floor with her knees up to her chest.....rocking gently.

Me: "Sweetie? Can you tell me where the frog is?"

Stace: "On a pile of cut grass....you can't miss it."

As I approached the garden I had to prepare myself for the real possibility that what I was about to see would traumatize me forever......and permanently alter my opinion of my seemingly loving and caring wife. "Who is this woman I share my home with, capable of such atrocity?" I thought out loud.

The macabre scene was reminiscent of a Stephen King novel. There were the sinister looking farm implements scattered in obvious haste and evidence of some sort of upheaval.

Upheaval indeed.

A tormented rake lay near I low pile of freshly cut greens, and a weed-eater, it's still plugged in cord like the tail of some evil, demonic lawn maintenance device.

The stillness belied the tumult of just a hour ago.

But. No frog.

I lift the rake and gently worked the pile of clippings. Then I move into the garden, and overturn the heaps of cut stems.

What sort of sick turn of events is this, that a frog would rise up from such a vicious maelstrom and conceal itself, undoubtedly to haunt us every night for the remainder of our lives with "The Tell-Tale Croak"?

"The frog is okay. You must have knocked it out. He hopped off somewhere."

Stace looked at me. She was relieved.

"Can you mow that area now?" she said.

Mystery Toy and Holy Hell Meltdown

As I was getting ready for bed, Henry caught sight of a water toy up in my closet (where I stash most gifts for the future - including an enormous box that is his and Walter's kitchenette to be given to them this Christmas -- and he has never even noticed the gigantic box) -- but this little water toy he saw. Well, Henry had not had a nap today, and it was nearing 9 pm. He asked politely about the toy, asked to see the toy. I said no. ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

I held fast. It was late, he was tired, I had said no. I said, it wouldn't be a surprise if I showed it to you.

Stupid thing to say. He started screaming (because by now that was his tone anyway) that he didn't want a surprise.

He screamed, cried, begged -- and this is where I nearly wavered. He looked so beside himself, tears rolling down his cheeks, wracked with sobs as he told me that he was going to go see the toy, then he said, "Okay?" Oh, it was pitiful and painful.

Well, "No," I replied, my heart wrenching to see his little face so upset and still asking if it's ok for him to go see the toy. My heart was saying, "No?" Who cares if he sees it, he's already seen some of it, and it's just a stupid water toy -- but I had made my stand, and by god, it was late and he was tired. Finally, I thought, WHO CARES?, but still I picked him up, sat down in our glider with him on my lap, opened a very calming book, and began to read. He shushed immediately, snuggled -- or crumpled (cringe)-- on my lap.

As soon as I finished he said, "What is it? What's the toy?", and then he fell fast asleep.

The Reprimanding

We were in the car the other day and Kevin and I were joking around when I accidentally (and jokingly) told him to "shut up". Well. Nothing gets by Henry and soon I was on the receiving end of a stern reprimand about "language" and how we are not allowed to say shut up because "it isn't nice". Yikes.

He's right, of course.

Creativity with Limits

Henry has been very imaginative recently - and it's been a blast as he colors the inside of a box that serves first as a train, then the space shuttle (even though it isn't white, he reminds us). Last night he was swimming to his bed/boat. It was fun. Once in the bed/boat he informed us that there is a shark in the river. We were amazed, then Daddy announced that that's ok because the alligator will eat the shark. Then, next thing we know, Daddy reports that there are multiple sharks and alligators in the river.
Looking concerned, Henry said, "It's just a floor, Daddy."

Henry told me today that he would like to go to his friend Isaac's house to play, and I told him that I don't know where he lives.
"He lives in Minnesota. On Earth."
I suggested he try to narrow it down a little more.