It is Tuesday, Keely called for everyone to go forth and be random….I tried to be completely random and…it…just…didn’t….work.
Up until today, James has been a hard-core bath taker. This morning he insisted on taking a shower, without crying, he carefully pointed out, then dried himself off and got himself dressed. Tim and I were both fairly impressed.
All the grown up behavior started to crumble during his annual check-up. He dutifully signed his name, counted to ten, and told he pediatrician that he “very much enjoyed eating his greens.” Things got shaky when he realized that he was getting shots. Somewhat fortified by the promise of a sticker, he chose to have his immunizations in his arms. He made it through the first two, and lost it on the third and fourth. He spent the rest of the afternoon walking around with his arms dangling by his sides like a zombie.
The grownupness exited the building during dinner. James, with a sly smile, asked me where he would be sleeping tonight. I asked him where he thought that might be. He pretended to give his answer some serious consideration and confidently said that he’d be sleeping with me. I looked at him appraisingly, which he knows usually means I’m gearing up to say no. He quickly interjected that of course he would do a good job on his dinner. In an effort to confuse me into saying yes, he asked me what execution meant. Then he refused to clear off his dinner plate because his shots hurt so baaaaaddddd, and promptly burst into tears. I was going to give him credit for using grown up negotiation/distraction tactics until the crying started.
I am pooped and am heading to bed, maybe with a smallish, sort of growing up, but not really, young man.