Staring at a partially disassembled toddler bed that is temporarily housed in the playroom until tomorrows long journey back to it's ancestral home of the largest Ikea in America (Schaumburg, IL) wondering what is more important: finding the right interview quote in my transcripts about poser satanists in Black Metal or taking a shower because I smell like a French girl in August. Consummate SAHM apres minuit dilemma, surely.
I am four days behind deadline due almost entirely to the nap schedules of my children. Today, at 12:30, shortly after wresting William into his crib (after he'd fallen asleep in the car) I heard a soft but solid thunk. I went and stood outside his door and saw a telltale shadow approaching under the door and suddenly the door flung open with force and there was William, holding the Frog & Toad throughout the seasons book, beaming with pride. He had vaulted out of his crib because he didn't want to go to bed without a story. He would do this jump two more times, one in front of my very eyes. He was electrified by his accomplishment, refused to sleep, demanded two more lunches in increments, ran around screaming his own toddlerfied version of the Hallelujah chorus, surely, including a new word that I believe to be "trampoline". It is as if he has officially turned two this very day and suddenly he is fullbore two. His poor brother languishing in his bouncey seat or ignoring station as we call his "floor gym" with the rattley owl, waiting for his go at the boob or to be handed his green bean chewing toy, while I chase William around trying to keep him from washing his hands in the toilet bowl. Deadlines be damned. Showers be damned. There is a little child on the loose, ecstatic over his own being.Posted by jessica hopper at July 9, 2012 11:49 PM | TrackBack