Well I've been doing something special to relax these days, twice a day I grab an ice cold bag of frozen peas and an Ace bandage and strap the peas to my gigantic, throbbing,
purple ... foot (what did you think I was going to say?) of misery and stick it up in the air for half an hour.
We were out at the park Sunday before last and had a great time and M and Isaac and I were walking back to the car - I was carrying Isaac because he said he was tired. We were all of two hundred feet away from my car when I stepped in a hole (a crevasse, really) and twisted my ankle (if the phrase "twisting my ankle" can really describe a situation where my toes and my heel meet on either side of my knee) and found myself falling forward and trying to put Isaac down without dropping him. I was wearing these big heavy boots and basically rolled my whole ankle sideways so badly that for a few minutes I thought I might have broken it. I sat there trying not to freak Isaac out or make M think I was acting like a baby but OH MAN THAT HURT. So for a week that ankle was twice it's normal size and purple as a grape. Now it's one and a half time normal and looks like a cartoon foot. So the best part of the summer moves past with me walking like the aged sidekick character in old westerns.
I'm looking at things a bit more grumpily than usual as a result. Anyway. Oh yeah, The kid. Right.
He picked up a little pen and started zooming it through the air over his trains. "Who's that?" I asked.
"That's Gimmee," he said, "Gimmee the Flying Sports Engine!"
"What does he do?"
He raised the pen tip and scribbled in the air - "He draws pictures in the sky! And at night he shoots out fireworks!"
We've been dreading harsh language creeping into his conversation knowing of course that some is inevitable.
The phrase "Shut Up!" may not sound harsh but it is kind of rough and mean, the only exception I can think of is:
"Shut UP!" used as in "You've GOT to be kidding!"
But Isaac hears the little engines in the Thomas stories telling each other to shut up and it finally came out of his mouth the other day while playing with his trains - and it made me laugh out loud. As usual he was lying across the tracks having engine encounters and suddenly I heard him say:
"Shut up, suggested James"
That's My Towel
We have a little game we play that is right out of the wolf or dog play book, it's called. that's my towel
This morning he said "Daddy can we play that's my towel?"
I threw him a towel and he grabbed it and I ran after grabbing it it too yelling "Hey, that's my towel!"
and he says, "NO it's MY towel"
and we both pull on it and growl and assert towel ownership over and over while running from room to room.
Try it with a loved one this weekend!
