date nights, continueded.
Writing about our date might not be the best idea right now since earlier the little monkey scared me half to death by deliberately running into the street. I'm still a little irritated. Actually, I should write about him so that I can remember why I should be excited for him to wake up from his nap.
Since Fitz wants to be just like his older brother Iggy, I've got my hands, feet, and mind full with them. Two Pucks in our fairy forest. When it's just us, just he and me, he falls into a more gentle role.
The smallest things can keep him interested for quite some time. He's always hoping to linger on our walks but his brothers are more worried about racing to our destinations. I remember when I only had one toddler and it was alright to spend an hour walking around the block. I feel somewhat responsible for his deprivation from dawdling days.
I counted his teeth yesterday, just for fun. His two-year-old molars are in already and I didn't even notice that they'd come. He never made a peep about it, maintaining his generally cheerful demeanor.
The boys' top reason they like the house we moved into is its proximity to a doughnut store. Never mind that we've not even been since our arrival. Until Fitz and I walked there.
We didn't even have a doughnut because of the enticing frozen yogurt buffet. Fitz is our family's candy fiend.
I love two. I love the explosion of language and growth in communication. I love that he can let me into his world of "buguggum fwowes" (bubblegum flowers), "goose goose" (blues clues), "bance-cwacker" (the super-nutcracker that Iggy got for Christmas that reminds Fitz of Iggy's dance class.)
Most mornings when Duke leaves for work Fitz watches him leave through the front window, tears streaming down his face. I scoop him up and promise. I just promise him whatever he wants. That we'll visit dad's work someday. That daddy will be home soon. That daddy loves him and is sad to leave.
Fitz saw dad pull up to the sweet-store to join are date and excitedly yelled through the window "pom-on-nin daddy" (come on in, daddy).
Dawdling and sweets with mom + home with daddy and brothers = happy boy.
Some equations are so wonderfully simple.
Since Fitz wants to be just like his older brother Iggy, I've got my hands, feet, and mind full with them. Two Pucks in our fairy forest. When it's just us, just he and me, he falls into a more gentle role.
The smallest things can keep him interested for quite some time. He's always hoping to linger on our walks but his brothers are more worried about racing to our destinations. I remember when I only had one toddler and it was alright to spend an hour walking around the block. I feel somewhat responsible for his deprivation from dawdling days.
I counted his teeth yesterday, just for fun. His two-year-old molars are in already and I didn't even notice that they'd come. He never made a peep about it, maintaining his generally cheerful demeanor.
The boys' top reason they like the house we moved into is its proximity to a doughnut store. Never mind that we've not even been since our arrival. Until Fitz and I walked there.
We didn't even have a doughnut because of the enticing frozen yogurt buffet. Fitz is our family's candy fiend.
I love two. I love the explosion of language and growth in communication. I love that he can let me into his world of "buguggum fwowes" (bubblegum flowers), "goose goose" (blues clues), "bance-cwacker" (the super-nutcracker that Iggy got for Christmas that reminds Fitz of Iggy's dance class.)
Most mornings when Duke leaves for work Fitz watches him leave through the front window, tears streaming down his face. I scoop him up and promise. I just promise him whatever he wants. That we'll visit dad's work someday. That daddy will be home soon. That daddy loves him and is sad to leave.
Fitz saw dad pull up to the sweet-store to join are date and excitedly yelled through the window "pom-on-nin daddy" (come on in, daddy).
Dawdling and sweets with mom + home with daddy and brothers = happy boy.
Some equations are so wonderfully simple.
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