Hatchling and I went to the gym this morning, and when I was done working out I went to pick him up in the children's gymnasium. There he was, one shoe on and one shoe off, in his Thomas the Tank Engine shirt, building a clubhouse out of mesh wall pieces with another little boy. As soon as he saw me, he laughed and skittered off to a giant moonwalk set up in the corner (you know, those things you bounce around in... I wish they made those for grownups...)
and slipped inside just as I caught up with him. Once I looked through the little window at him he said "Mommy! Look! Boing*! Boing! Boing!" And then the little rascal refused to get out until I told him bye and walked around the corner, which of course made him come out screaming. It's mean, but effective.
In the car on the way home he proceeded to make up three boo boos for me to kiss better once we got home. I could just eat him with a spoon (I'm betting he tastes like tacos)
. Someone should seriously figure out how to keep them little like this for at least a few years longer. I want to slow down time and enjoy being the center of his world for a bit longer (how egotistical of me...)
, where all the boo boos can be kissed better and the most traumatic of events can be fixed by snuggling up close in a chair with blankie and tag and Mommy. I want him to be this sweet and guileless forever. I want his eyes to sparkle with joy at the simplest of pleasures. It's not fair, this whole growing up thing.*This whole boinging thing he learned from Sesame Street a few weeks ago. I didn't see that part, so I have no idea what it was about (because I was using the television to babysit my child... cue the terrible mother music). Sesame Street is really letting me down. My son has so far developed an obsession for Elmo, learned how to boing and how to shove food in his mouth like Cookie Monster when we are at restaurants. He has NOT learned to count past two (though once in the car when L said "1,2,3" Hatchling finished "4,5,6", but we've never heard it again) and he thinks every shirt I own is pink. Mommy wears pink, Daddy wears white, and Hatchling wears yellow, no matter what the actual colors may be.