The Northfield Rambler

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Tidbits

Lately, Henry has figured out how to get over our kid fence that separates the downstairs play area from the rest of the house, and he gets very elaborate with various different "boosting" implements. Tonight, however, those boosting pieces weren't around due to the fact that the area had been cleaned and things put away, so as he struggled to get over, he stopped midway - one leg on either side of the gate - and said, "I'm not going to hurt my penis."

Statements such as these put me quickly on alert as I understand that they are usually late in the game, and I realized that probably, he was nearing the point of hurting his penis, and I jumped to attention to offer assistance. But, for a moment I wasn't entirely certain I knew how to take that statement. Was he reassuring me? As if to say, "Not to worry Mom, I'm okay, nothing getting damaged here. Look - no hands!" Or, was this more of a passive aggressive way of suggesting I help out as any moron could tell his penis was in peril?

Hard to know for sure, I guess. Except that Henry is shockingly accomodating and sweet, it's unlikely that it was the latter.

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Henry had been picking on Walter a bit today. Henry hadn't taken a nap, and things were slightly on the edge. I, therefore, was picking on Henry. I was putting books away (for the millionith time ever) in Hen's room, when I heard the crying. I turned to see Walter laying face down in the hallway, with Henry directly behind him. I hadn't seen what had just happened, but I could see Henry was touching him.
"Henry," I call, "Don't touch your brother." I've said this a crazy number of times today.
Walter comes to me for hugging, Henry bails.
He reappears minutes later (for those of you without kids, minutes is a really long time).
He enters the room and says, "I didn't do anything."
Yeah, good start.
I look at Hen, "What happened in the hallway?"
He says, "Walter fell by himself, and I didn't push him when I smacked him."
I could barely keep a straight face.
"You smacked him?"
"No, I patted him," he starts, and continues on into some lengthy explanation that likely included monsters in a forest. Then he stops and says to me, "you don't believe me, do you?"
"No," I smile at him, "no, Henry, I don't."


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The other day I got up around 5:30 am. As I was getting out of the shower, Henry walked in and said, "Mama, please put your "pajamins" back on and come sleep with me. I can't sleep with someone who is taking a bath."


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In bed the other night, Henry and I laid head to head after reading stories. The light was out and he had his hand wound up in my hair.
"I'm pulling my hair," he said.
"You're pulling my hair," I corrected him.
"Oh, oh, sorry, sorry, I didn't know what I was doing." He replies.

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