I would just like to go on record and say that we barely have any Legos in this house. It’s like a drought on the African plains, when all the water dries up and the creeks are empty, and the lions mourn the fact that HELLO! THEY PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE CHASED THAT ZEBRA AT TOP SPEED TODAY, BECAUSE IN ALL THIS HEAT, ALL THE RUNNING MADE THEM THIRSTY. We are suffering a full-on Lego drought here.
The boys barely had anything to build with this afternoon.
The boy and Kellen and the cute neighbor boy had the very best time this afternoon, and by the damage done in the bedroom, I would hope that a good time was had. Otherwise, they poked Mama’s OCD-and-let’s-get-this-cleaned-up personality for nothing. Those three were sequestered in the boy’s bedroom for upwards of six entire hours, and at the end of the day, they had an entire village of houses and huts and castles that the local construction crew had finished, regardless of the fact that no one seemed to have a building permit of any kind.
Plus? I’m not sure any inspections by certified city employees were conducted either, which means that the castle’s plumbing might not be up to code, and the mini-figures will probably end up regretting that in the end.
In other news, Thing 2 has slept through the night for six nights running now. I am beginning to feel like I have enough energy to sprint the 200 in London, even though I was awake for a chunk of the night last night.
I woke up at 2:00 this morning, and I decided to peek at Thing 2. Just to check. Because that’s what a mama does. And surprise! Thing 2 was sleeping on his belly for the first time, and he was PLUM FACE DOWN ON HIS MATTRESS! As in, his little nose was smashed in the sheet.
Because letting your babies sleep on their tummies now is illegal in our country, and because every mother has been trained that SLEEPING ON THE BACK IS BEST, I decided to worry. Honestly, if I don’t have SOMETHING to worry about, I can’t function. It’s why I invent possible worst-case scenarios in my head, so that I can have something to fret over. It’s also why my 9-year-old nephew, M, and I are bonded together by our souls, because his nickname is Mr. Safety.
(He informed me last week that YOU SHOULDN’T FLY IN AN AIRPLANE, BECAUSE A ROBIN COULD BE SUCKED INTO THE ENGINE, AND YOU COULD BURN THAT ENGINE UP, AND THEN YOU WOULD CRASH AND DIE. THAT’S WHY YOU SHOULD JUST DRIVE PLACES, OR EVEN STAY AT HOME.)
(I couldn’t agree with him more.)
(I love him to death.)
The dilemma came in DO I WAKE THE SLEEPING BABY AND RISK MESSING UP A SLEEP-STREAK? I decided to ask Hubs, because Hubs loves to have me pepper him with questions at 2:00 in the morning.
Hubs said, “He’s fine. Go to bed.”
So I went to bed. And I fretted, because his little nose was smooshed in the sheet! So I got back up out of bed and went back to his bedroom, and I very gently rolled Thing 2 over in his crib. And then I patted myself on the back, because SUCCESS.
Sweet success, and the baby continued to sleep.
And then Thing 2 flipped back over and reburied his nose in the sheet.
So I flipped him over to his back again.
And he flipped himself back to his belly.
And then I gave up and went back to bed.
And that’s when Cat 1 crawled up on the bed and said, “You know what helps me whenever I am fretting? Having a good scarf on helps me, that’s what.” And then she proceeded to drape herself around my neck like a plush fur, because that’s what she does.
(I’m not entirely convinced that it’s not a ploy to actually suffocate me, disguised as an act of kindness.)
And THAT, people, is how I came to be awake from 2:00 to 4:30 AM.
Thing 2 got his biggest wish granted today, because his mama didn’t spend the entire afternoon folding itty-bitty baby clothes and restocking his closet with bigger outfits.
We went swinging.
At. The. Park.
The big boys climbed all over the playground equipment, but only in a manner approved by the Safe Children At The Park committee. The big boys would never dare to climb on the outside of the structure, since the sign clearly states DO NOT CLIMB ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE STRUCTURE.
While the big boys went their own way, Thing 2 giggled in the swing. That baby of ours could swing at the park all day. And he doesn’t like us to skimp on the pushing, either. No, sir. He wants to be pushed fast and high, and he doesn’t even mind if the swing flips over the top of the swingset and hangs him upside down for a while.
Honestly, I worry that this is an indication that Thing 2 is going to have a wild passion for riding bulls in the rodeo when he’s older. Or jumping canyons on his motorcycle. Or bungee jumping in the Amazon. Our little man has a wee bit of an adventurous spirit.
We had the park all to ourselves for part of the time that we were there because SWEET MINTY BUBBLEGUM! The temperature today was hot enough to suck the very breath out of your lungs and make you wish that you lived somewhere cooler.
Like the Sahara Desert.
Eventually, though, another brave woman came out to the park, along with her quickly-approaching-the-age-of-two daughter.
The little girl’s name was Violet. She had on hot pink leggings and the most adorable ruffled blouse in pink and yellow that I’ve ever seen. I realized that I was even coveting that size 2T shirt, and wishing that MAYBE it could be sewn in my size. And she had her curly dark hair pulled up in the cutest pigtails ever, and MY WORD! She was flat-out adorable.
Violet crawled into the swing next to us, and her mama began to push her. At least I THINK she was pushing Violet, but I couldn’t be entirely sure, because the swing was BARELY MOVING. And then there was Thing 2, flying at altitudes normally only achieved by the space shuttle.
Violet’s mother looked at me and asked, “Um, don’t you worry about pushing him so high?”
No. I worry about him sleeping face down in the mattress, but goodness! Pushing Thing 2 this high isn’t even a risk.
As it turned out, Violet and her mother were from Louisiana, which explained the beautiful accents, and they were passing through Small Town on their way to the Grand Canyon, so that they could visit her elderly uncle.
No one passes through Small Town on their way to the Grand Canyon especially coming from LOUISIANA. The phrase that comes to mind is OUT OF THE WAY BY THOUSANDS OF MILES.
Violet’s daddy is a bank president, and he needed a break from all the banking, so they were driving and driving and driving, and goodness! Violet was just such a fabulous traveler, and who can really understand children who can’t sit politely in the Ford Excursion for two hundred straight hours? It must surely be a sign of horrible parenting, because Violet isn’t even two yet, and she can ride and ride and ride, with nothing but a cracker to entertain her.
We had a good chat, Violet’s mama and I.
She was a lovely child. Cute enough to pinch. And very well-behaved.
But I think her swinging career is going to be very limited with extreme height restrictions.
And also? I’m sure that she still sleeps legally on her back, EVERY NIGHT, so that her mother doesn’t have to worry.
As we were leaving the park, I’m pretty sure Thing 2 mumbled to Violet, “I can totally jump OUT OF that swing, too! I’m pretty good at catching air, and I stick the landing nine times out of ten.”
Have a great Tuesday, people.