That farmers' saying, black as a berry certainly fit Tornado Boy yesterday. He played with the neighbor kids ALL afternoon... and he held his own, too. The other kids ranged from five to probably eight yrs old, and TD comes in at 22 months. One of the neighbors has a wading pool and it was the center-stone of all play on this day. With all that sun and play, TD did indeed look like a ripe berry. A juicy ripe berry.
Tornado Boy was thoroughly engaged and totally committed to the pseudo freedom he had yesterday. And he was able to stand his own ground among these bigger kids. When baby-talk didn't return his toy, he fell back to employing his equalizer, which worked like a charm. Its a high-pitched, blood-curtling scream coming up from deep within the diaphram and hurled into the universe. It stops all activity immediately. And the toy (or whatever) that triggered the outburst is returned immediately. I saw it work successfully several times.
This age is so damn cute!! They will never look as innocent as they do at this age.
I watched the boys last night so mom could go have some fun. It was pretty easy. The minute mom left, TD took his very tired and tear-stained face (he still cries a little when mom leaves) and climbed up on the couch and was asleep within one minute. And he never woke again until this morning.
The wee one had some trouble getting comfortable enough for extended sleep. He has a cold and was all stuffy... it makes it hard to suck a bottle and breath at the same time. He has such a mellow outlook on life... calm and mellow. He spent some of the time giggling. Part of the time it looked like he was giggling at me and the rest of the time he must have had a spiritual visitor who was a standup comic. What an infectious giggle. Doncha jus luv it!!
Mom didn't come home until around 5am. She had to 'wait for someone not drunk' to bring her home. So I've been sleeping most of the day. Its so kewl to be able to take a nap whenever you want to...its just great.
Yawn...yeah I know. Its boring...but its done.
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