I picked up a book today at Value Village, the Sears and Sears guide to discipline. Put it back down when I read the sentence, “the three year old is far more reasonable than he was at two.” Obviously the wrong manual for our household.
The lovely side of three years old plays for 20 minutes with the doctor kit I picked up at Value Village. Listens to my heart. Takes my blood pressure. Knocks my knee heartily with the reflex hammer. Gives me three doses of medicine, two by mouth and one a jab in the thigh and tells me next time? I should cut my chocolate cake into smaller pieces and I won’t get a stomach ache.
The lovely side of three years old jumps into my arms for a goodnight hug and says, “I could sleep right here all night.”
The lovely side of three years old giggles uncontrollably while listening to Flatt and Scruggs and, as he heads to bed, says, “I don’t know if I CAN sleep tonight! I just want to stomp and stomp and listen to bluegrass!”
The lovely side of three years old.
Today was the lovely side of yesterday, the kind of Saturday I want and rarely get. A trip to the farmer’s market in Burnaby. An impromptu (what? does that word even exist in parental vocabulary?) trip to the Central City Brewing liquor store in Surrey. Lunch and naps and no injuries and hardly any tears and hell, Saint Aardvark is even making a cheesecake for tomorrow.
(What is tomorrow? Tomorrow we are going to my parents’ house. On Tuesday it is their 40th wedding anniversary. Tomorrow we eat cheesecake.)
I have not had Saint Aardvark’s cheesecake since Sarah and Michael’s wedding shower, 6 years ago. It is damn fine cheesecake, that is how I remember the date. He used to bring it to pot-luck parties because it impressed the ladies (you have to read that with a slimy kinda, laydeeeez, or it doesn’t work) but then after we hooked up, no more cheesecake.
But – I’ve got kids, so. Kids: Better than Cheesecake or Your Money Back!
I don’t know why today was so much better than yesterday. I would say it’s because there were two adults in the house, but that isn’t always a guarantee. I could say it’s because Trombone slept in until almost 8 o clock or because I had three cups of coffee or because the moon is in Whatever planet. But none of those things matters, really.
Some days are just like that.
And others are just like this.
Am I the only one who calls the Dell Inspiron “In-SPIRE-on”? Or do most people say “IN-spih-ron”?
Thanks in advance.