Today Patches came up to me and handed me a tiny little square of paper. He had cut it out himself. It was so small that when I held the paper between my thumb and forefinger, only the edges were visible. Patches very seriously informed me that it was a ticket. I thanked him, put it to one side of me, and went back to my work. A minute later Patches was at my elbow again with another ticket. Or rather, the same ticket because he had quietly collected the one he’d already given me. “Who stole my ticket?” I gasped. Patches giggled. And for a few minutes he gave me tickets from his little pile and then stole them back from me when I turned away. After a few minutes I suggested that Patches might want to give a ticket to his Daddy. Patches trotted off downstairs. Then wandered off to play something else.
Later Howard came upstairs, preparing to leave for Dragon’s Keep. Howard asked Patches for a hug. Patches tipped his head to the side, ready to launch into one of his explanations about how the hugs-for-mommy were in front of the hugs-for-daddy and that daddy would have to wait. This negotiation is a frequent one. Patches loves being in control of a commodity that his parents desire. At that moment I had an inspiration. I turned to Howard and asked where his ticket was. Howard and Patches both lit up. Howard went and retrieved his ticket. Patches accepted it seriously and then gave an enormous hug. Patches ran off to play, pleased that there was now a purpose for his little tickets. Howard says he fully intends to hoard tickets.
Gleek accompanied me on some of my mailing-prep errands today. We ended up sitting in Alphagrapics for about 30 minutes waiting for a print job. This kind of stop is potentially miserable for us both. Gleek is not a child who gets bored. Whenever boredom threatens, she will find something to do. Therein lies the problem, Gleek’s “somethings” are frequently active, loud, or otherwise disruptive to those around her. This time she acquired the calculator from the counter and began to play with it. But just pushing buttons on the calculator was not interesting enough, so she did it while spinning in circles. I was in a mood to be amused rather than irritated, so I watched her.
She was a ragamuffin with her tangly in-her-face hair and mismatched clothes. She even wore her brother’s boots (sans socks) because that was most handy when time came to go. Several times other customers looked at her, but I judged that she was cause for amusement not annoyance, so I did not ask her to stop. She was very good to stay in the open space in the middle where she would not disturb others. Every so often she would stop to wiggle her loose tooth. I hope she looses it before Christmas. Then she’ll have both top teeth missing and I’ll teach her how to sing “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” As I watched her spin, I marveled once again at the energy levels she maintains. And I marveled even more at how well she has learned to curb her own impulses. If ever a child had the tendency to go feral, it would be Gleek, but she has not because she works so hard to please. Once the print job was done I began the process of coaxing Gleek into her coat. In the end I had to hold the coat out while she danced across the room and into it. We did it twice because it didn’t work right the first time. Then she danced into the car and we went home.
At bedtime tonight I carried each of the three younger ones to bed. Patches was scooped up as a sleepy puppy. He curled his whole body up on his pillow, assuring me that this is the way that puppies sleep. With much coaxing I convinced him to only put his head on the pillow and put the rest of him under the covers where he will be warm. Patches gave me a big hug and say with absolute confidence “You love my hugs.” I assured him that I did. Link was next. I couldn’t scoop him, but I did carry him. I groaned as I trudged up the stairs that he was getting so big he was going to have to carry me to bed next time. Link grinned from ear to ear. He loves the idea that someday he’ll be bigger than Mom. Gleek’s scooping was a little less smooth. Usually on the nights that Patches is a sleepy puppy, Gleek is content to be a sleepy kitty. Tonight she just wanted to stay up with Daddy. I carried her to bed anyway and tucked her in. Tonight she did not need extra talking. Some nights she needs me to just talk and listen to her. At bedtime, in the dark, she is finally able to focus on connecting and talking. There are few moments during the day when motion is not distracting from conversation. So I’ll spend a few extra minutes talking about “feelings and stuff.” At the end of it, she feels safe and loved and ready to let me leave.
The arrival of books has completely altered my week, but for the kids it hardly even registers as an event. I think that means I’ve worked things right.
Good work
I have to agree. That is a sign you’ve done it right, and you’ve once again proved by example that it can be done. It’s reassuring to see. When crunches and crises in domestic or professional life can come and go without children any the wiser, it is clear that the home and the family are in excellent order. My wife and I work at trying to keep our own work and stresses from affecting our two sons; it’s hard to do sometimes. I commend you for your success – and thank you for reminding me that such success is somewhere within reach.
I love that -both- of them lit up at the mention of the tickets. Amused me greatly.
.. and provides ideas for entertaining my own. ;-]