Parenting Isn't Brain Surgery
Forgot I was working the closing shift yesterday, so, since I was going to miss out on slugging back to my car, I told Ainsley I'd be home much later, whenever the bus left the Pentagon to get me down 95 through traffic. Only she came up with the much better idea to shoehorn our co-children into the Vanulator and have dinner with me up near the Pentagon.
Unfortunately, Erin's now got a hacking gramma cough, probably a sore throat, what with her lack of appetite for anything that isn't an ice cube chip. It's probably against sanitary regulations, but dammit, if me pressing my hand up against the ice drop lever thingy is going to keep my daughter from crying her fool head off next to her mother, my hand will be a cold press.
So it was nice to almost sort of have dinner in the same vicinity of a restaurant as the other half of my family.
Tonight I came home to more maternal exhaustion, as Ryan is being more refuserant than ever to not only take naps but be quiet not doing it. So he was a unibarrel of monkeys tonight, hands a fisted blur of movement, our little IncrediRobot. He did join in on a rousing rendition of songtime at the dinner table, since Erin seems to love short little ditties seemingly sung just for her. Claps at the end, big smiles, signing 'more'. Ryan even busted out all three verses of "Mary Had A Little Lamb," politely asking his parents to not join in, thank you very much. Ham.
Got everyone upstairs and changed just in time for more Hop On Pop time, Ryan enjoying a see-saw action of my holding him up with my knees and pushing his whole body up with my feet. But then Erin wanted to get in on the action, and climbed onto my chest, only she slipped a little, catching her fall by shoving her ring finger palm-deep up my nasal cavity.
So now I can't get the taste of baby lotion out of my mouth.
Unfortunately, Erin's now got a hacking gramma cough, probably a sore throat, what with her lack of appetite for anything that isn't an ice cube chip. It's probably against sanitary regulations, but dammit, if me pressing my hand up against the ice drop lever thingy is going to keep my daughter from crying her fool head off next to her mother, my hand will be a cold press.
So it was nice to almost sort of have dinner in the same vicinity of a restaurant as the other half of my family.
Tonight I came home to more maternal exhaustion, as Ryan is being more refuserant than ever to not only take naps but be quiet not doing it. So he was a unibarrel of monkeys tonight, hands a fisted blur of movement, our little IncrediRobot. He did join in on a rousing rendition of songtime at the dinner table, since Erin seems to love short little ditties seemingly sung just for her. Claps at the end, big smiles, signing 'more'. Ryan even busted out all three verses of "Mary Had A Little Lamb," politely asking his parents to not join in, thank you very much. Ham.
Got everyone upstairs and changed just in time for more Hop On Pop time, Ryan enjoying a see-saw action of my holding him up with my knees and pushing his whole body up with my feet. But then Erin wanted to get in on the action, and climbed onto my chest, only she slipped a little, catching her fall by shoving her ring finger palm-deep up my nasal cavity.
So now I can't get the taste of baby lotion out of my mouth.
posted by Dan at 10:12 PM
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