of course, if you are at all unclear on the subject, you most definitely do not live at my house. Here, the mornings be loud and the afternoons be bitchy, and periodically the Eldest will wander over and explain that he is oh, so very tired. You know, he'll say confidingly, the Gigs* woke me up an hour - no, two hours - early this morning. Which is to say that, his brother woke up at his internally cuckoo-clocked hour of 6:something wee am, rather than letting the Eldest snooze until 7ish.
My parenting position on this sort of thing is, officially, that there are many reasons that it can suck to be the older child, and this might be one of them. Also, that the Eldest spent oh, five? years requiring us to make him the center of our attention - and gently accepting mid-field, slightly off-center. The morning adoration and play with me! It's a day! Let's play with something FUN! from his sibling is just deserts.
So, yes. Summer. It started gently, with the Eldest transforming into lo! a fourth grader. Don't ask me what it means, except that I'm pretty sure that there's a growth spurt in there somewhere. Eventually. Also? A sudden, horrified awareness that if someone makes trouble, the mature, sensible fourth grader might be part of a group held responsible. Hm.
Shortly his mother stopped smirking in corners where she thought he couldn't see, the smaller one dusted off his hands, was offered and solemnly wielded the rose-shaped light saber of the Padawan, graduating to apprentice Jediship. (or some such) And I'm going to hold the grin in my tone here, but you know that it was a soggy occasion.
The Preschool of Wonders was wise enough not to equip their graduates with lightsabers - they gave them kiddush cups, instead. Armed with a nice bit of Judaica, the kidlets trotted happily off after a slightly adapted "Tick, Tock" song, wondering why that last line had come with a sudden round of adult mucus. They were, after all, going to see everyone on Visit Days, right?
::sniff::
paused for a bit of whoop!
and went on to figure out how they could conquer the world.
And if you hadn't noticed, I suspect that I haven't been blogging nearly enough. Trust me - they did.
* Gigs, along with Trig and Gigabyte are a variety of names that we use for the really no longer toddling Toddles. For obvious, Palinesque reasons, I'm going to eschew the lovely Trig. Let's see if Gigs works for us - and your opinion is most welcome. The name is, of course, short for the Giggles.
My parenting position on this sort of thing is, officially, that there are many reasons that it can suck to be the older child, and this might be one of them. Also, that the Eldest spent oh, five? years requiring us to make him the center of our attention - and gently accepting mid-field, slightly off-center. The morning adoration and play with me! It's a day! Let's play with something FUN! from his sibling is just deserts.
So, yes. Summer. It started gently, with the Eldest transforming into lo! a fourth grader. Don't ask me what it means, except that I'm pretty sure that there's a growth spurt in there somewhere. Eventually. Also? A sudden, horrified awareness that if someone makes trouble, the mature, sensible fourth grader might be part of a group held responsible. Hm.
Shortly his mother stopped smirking in corners where she thought he couldn't see, the smaller one dusted off his hands, was offered and solemnly wielded the rose-shaped light saber of the Padawan, graduating to apprentice Jediship. (or some such) And I'm going to hold the grin in my tone here, but you know that it was a soggy occasion.
::sniff::
With that taken care of, it was time to - well, to anything. The boys began with aerodynamics,
paused for a bit of whoop!
And if you hadn't noticed, I suspect that I haven't been blogging nearly enough. Trust me - they did.
* Gigs, along with Trig and Gigabyte are a variety of names that we use for the really no longer toddling Toddles. For obvious, Palinesque reasons, I'm going to eschew the lovely Trig. Let's see if Gigs works for us - and your opinion is most welcome. The name is, of course, short for the Giggles.
2 comments:
FOURTH GRADE? Whaaa? This must stop...this growing, individuating and such.
Then again Sam has his learner's permit for driving and Nat's going to be an 8th grader.
Glad to hear that your boys are still fond (sometimes) of each other. Hormones are a-raging at Chez Rix and the boys go 0 to 1,000 in about .01 seconds. Rough to handle given how close they've always been.
Knowing the names mine toss back and forth with each other, Gigs seems harmless, so long as the recipient is groovy with it. We have family names that are pretty much exclusive in the house....Sam = Bubba or Sammy. Nat = Natters or MoFaniel (Sam couldn't say Nathaniel when Nat was born).
Glad you are all well....I think I might blog tonight, too.
Rix! We've missed you - but willing to trade your silence for that excellent CPAP sleep. And good grief. Learner's permit? 8th grader?
Really, there must be limits somewhere.
(although admittedly, I do adore MoFaniel.)
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