Sappy Entry
I always write about the worst of my children, when really, there's tons of good stuff. I had a moment that truly brought tears to me eyes, so I'll relate to you in all its mushy glory, no sarcastic commentary.
We're at a playground and Pie is having a blast. She's climbing on climbers that are too big for her. She's watching the babies sleeping in their strollers. She's having a wonderful time and doesn't want to leave. Doodles is at a stage where he comprehends things, and he understands that if he wants to watch a show, it's time to go, so he climbs in the stroller. Pie enters the stroller kicking and screaming.
"Walk! Walk! WALK!" she screams, tears streaming down her face. Normally, I'd let her walk but we're over a mile from home and her idea of walking is going three steps, yelling, "Stop!" and then standing there. For a beat. Or two. Or twelve. It's now been over a minute. And finally she yells, "Go!" and takes seven stops. And then stops. But it's past the time to start dinner and I don't want to keep the kids up late, so, No. Pie cannot walk.
So she scream. And screams. And screams bloody murder. She's twisted in her stroller seat. She's mauling poor Doodles, trying to push him out of the stroller. She's screaming, "NOOOOO!" and "WAAAAALLLK" loudly enough that people a block away are turning around to stare at us.
I start to sing to her. "Noooooo!" she shouts. As you recall, she's not a fan of my singing.
Doodles promptly claps his hands over his ears and moves as far away from her as he can while still staying in the stroller. This goes on for three blocks. Then he suddenly grabs her hand. "Oh shit!" I think. "He's going to bite her!"
He holds her hand so violently I fear for her and worry about when to step in. But I resist, because I want them to work out their own problems and within seconds, I realize, he's trying to hold her hand. When she won't let him, he turns fully in the double stroller and hugs her with both arms. "It's okay, Pie," he whispers in her ear. "It's all right. It's all right." He pats her back and gives her two kisses on the cheeks. For five blocks she's screaming, but it's lessening and he's nestling her head into his shoulder as he whispers, "It's okay, Pie. It's okay." He's patting, he's rubbing her hair, he's hugging her. And finally, on block six, she starts to calm down.
By the time we're halfway home, she's no longer crying and she's working to get her shoes off. "I can help you, Pie!" he says as he leans down to undo the Velcro. He pulls at them and in desperation says to me, "Jenny! I can't get her shoe off!" I comply and pull of her shoes and he follows suit, pulling off his shoes and socks. When she can't get her socks off, she becomes agitated again, so he begins to sing to her. Within seconds (and my help getting the socks off), she's not only calm but singing with him. The minute he's done, she says and signs, "More! More!" So the rest of the way home Doodles sung to Pie.
Man, those two. Sometimes, I could just eat them up!
We're at a playground and Pie is having a blast. She's climbing on climbers that are too big for her. She's watching the babies sleeping in their strollers. She's having a wonderful time and doesn't want to leave. Doodles is at a stage where he comprehends things, and he understands that if he wants to watch a show, it's time to go, so he climbs in the stroller. Pie enters the stroller kicking and screaming.
"Walk! Walk! WALK!" she screams, tears streaming down her face. Normally, I'd let her walk but we're over a mile from home and her idea of walking is going three steps, yelling, "Stop!" and then standing there. For a beat. Or two. Or twelve. It's now been over a minute. And finally she yells, "Go!" and takes seven stops. And then stops. But it's past the time to start dinner and I don't want to keep the kids up late, so, No. Pie cannot walk.
So she scream. And screams. And screams bloody murder. She's twisted in her stroller seat. She's mauling poor Doodles, trying to push him out of the stroller. She's screaming, "NOOOOO!" and "WAAAAALLLK" loudly enough that people a block away are turning around to stare at us.
I start to sing to her. "Noooooo!" she shouts. As you recall, she's not a fan of my singing.
Doodles promptly claps his hands over his ears and moves as far away from her as he can while still staying in the stroller. This goes on for three blocks. Then he suddenly grabs her hand. "Oh shit!" I think. "He's going to bite her!"
He holds her hand so violently I fear for her and worry about when to step in. But I resist, because I want them to work out their own problems and within seconds, I realize, he's trying to hold her hand. When she won't let him, he turns fully in the double stroller and hugs her with both arms. "It's okay, Pie," he whispers in her ear. "It's all right. It's all right." He pats her back and gives her two kisses on the cheeks. For five blocks she's screaming, but it's lessening and he's nestling her head into his shoulder as he whispers, "It's okay, Pie. It's okay." He's patting, he's rubbing her hair, he's hugging her. And finally, on block six, she starts to calm down.
By the time we're halfway home, she's no longer crying and she's working to get her shoes off. "I can help you, Pie!" he says as he leans down to undo the Velcro. He pulls at them and in desperation says to me, "Jenny! I can't get her shoe off!" I comply and pull of her shoes and he follows suit, pulling off his shoes and socks. When she can't get her socks off, she becomes agitated again, so he begins to sing to her. Within seconds (and my help getting the socks off), she's not only calm but singing with him. The minute he's done, she says and signs, "More! More!" So the rest of the way home Doodles sung to Pie.
Man, those two. Sometimes, I could just eat them up!
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