Saturday, October 13, 2012

Please Be Sleeping

To add to my "things I say all the time to my child," a friend suggested, "crying won't make it any better." So, consider it added. Also, my daughter always asks, when told to do something, "do I have to?" So I spend a lot of time saying "I have never in your life told you to do something that you don't have to do." I say this so often that she can fill in the rest of the phrase after "I have never in your life . . . "

I'm at that stage of pregnancy when I spend most of the day going back and forth to the bathroom. Liquids run through me immediately, similar to that Baby-Wets-Itself type of doll we used to have back in the early nineties. It would really be more efficient if I consumed 100% of my liquids while standing at the bathroom sink.

Strangely, Firefly seems to think that I can't possibly use the bathroom without his supervision. I'm not sure what he thinks is going to happen. Am I going to fall in? Escape out the window? It's not just that he wants to spend time with me. If he's playing, or sleeping (PLEASE BE SLEEPING) and he hears the bathroom light flick on (which he always does) he's off like a shot to station himself a foot away from me and stare. Also, I can't get out a tiny bathroom window. I'm too huge right now.

The boys love home schooling. Not being home schooled. They love that I am home schooling their sister. Firefly prefers to stay within his one-foot bathroom radius and assertively Miss the Point. For example, if Munchkin is reading her history book, he sits down next to her and shoves it out of the way, replacing it with a storybook he'd prefer she read. If she's using cuisinaire rods, he takes the ones she's using to place them in an elaborate block-pattern. Because she's amazingly good-tempered compared to me, none of this first-level distraction phases her.

It was slightly harder to brush off when he found a pair of cymbals.

Genome generally uses this time to disappear to another room and engage in the type of creative destruction that he correctly ascertains I would halt were I present. Sure, he wanders in every once in awhile, crawling over me like I'm so much furniture. But mainly he sees this as a great time to do that which he isn't, technically, allowed to do. Such as eat cereal from the box in front of the living room.

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