Elemental Pee
Bob has suddenly started to realize, in his own Helen Keller way, that letters and numbers aren't just scratchings on paper and billboards and books--that they actually mean something. And he wants to know what. It's funny how kids spend 2 or 3 years singing the Alphabet Song and have no freakin' clue that they're actually reciting the key to unlocking the door of the English language. Not that most of them sing it correctly, anyway. Bob's own rendition always cracks us up on the second verse, "H I J K El-em-en-tal peeee..." I don't know what Elemental Pee is, but I have to wonder if he's not some precocious science nerd conducting experiments in his room with his used pullups.
I do know that he's missing Martha, perhaps more than I thought he would. I always thought his attraction to that dog was the fact she was so easily annoyed by him. Now I'm thinking it was something more. Saturday night, he told me he wanted me to sleep with him. I told him no. "But I need something to sleep with." Well, you've got Scooter, and Baby Bear, and Owlie, and all your other friends. "But they're just toys. I want to sleep with something that moves." Wow--that's deep for a 4-year-old. I resisted the temptation to explain to him that sleeping with something that moves isn't always all it's cracked up to be, especially if that moving thing accidentally clocks you in the face around 3 a.m., and instead gave him a hug and told him his toys were happy to sleep with him, even if they don't move.
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
The Big Move is set to begin Friday morning sometime. Ben's taking the day off, which means he'll hopefully get most of the big stuff to the new house before I'm even off work. I have to admit, I'm happy about this. I know it's selfish and mean to be giddy over the prospect of not having to lift heavy objects and carry them, but I can't help it--I'm a wimp. Besides, I could fall and break a hip or something.
DB continues to be a DB--big shock there--but I'm trying (and, I think, doing a better job) to not let my thoughts be consumed by him and his shit on a nearly endless basis. It's so much more relaxing to just focus on our family without constantly worrying about him. Several people have told me throughout this that Bob will be okay in spite of the fact his biological father is a worthless sack of shit. I hope they're right.
I do know that he's missing Martha, perhaps more than I thought he would. I always thought his attraction to that dog was the fact she was so easily annoyed by him. Now I'm thinking it was something more. Saturday night, he told me he wanted me to sleep with him. I told him no. "But I need something to sleep with." Well, you've got Scooter, and Baby Bear, and Owlie, and all your other friends. "But they're just toys. I want to sleep with something that moves." Wow--that's deep for a 4-year-old. I resisted the temptation to explain to him that sleeping with something that moves isn't always all it's cracked up to be, especially if that moving thing accidentally clocks you in the face around 3 a.m., and instead gave him a hug and told him his toys were happy to sleep with him, even if they don't move.
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
The Big Move is set to begin Friday morning sometime. Ben's taking the day off, which means he'll hopefully get most of the big stuff to the new house before I'm even off work. I have to admit, I'm happy about this. I know it's selfish and mean to be giddy over the prospect of not having to lift heavy objects and carry them, but I can't help it--I'm a wimp. Besides, I could fall and break a hip or something.
DB continues to be a DB--big shock there--but I'm trying (and, I think, doing a better job) to not let my thoughts be consumed by him and his shit on a nearly endless basis. It's so much more relaxing to just focus on our family without constantly worrying about him. Several people have told me throughout this that Bob will be okay in spite of the fact his biological father is a worthless sack of shit. I hope they're right.
posted by Mitzi Green at 11:09 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home