Balloons
the boy
Making Tracks
The Boy is a big train fan. Well, he’s a fan of just about anything that rolls, crawls, lifts, shovels, moves — machines. But trains are special, as they should be.
Every now and then, though, I get a little carried away when designing tracks.
Yesterday, During the Game…
Playing with Papa Again
Tuesday Play
Boys’ Afternoon
It was just too sunny, too warm. It's the last Sunday of the month, which means Polish Mass Sunday, which means a free morning as Mass doesn't begin until three in the afternoon. But when E woke up from his nap, it was just too sunny, too warm to haul him off sit inside. Granted, there are spiritual benefits, but there are spiritual benefits of just hanging out together, father and son, as well. "Besides," I reasoned, "I have to go to confession anyway. Might as well have something more to confess."
There was of course swinging. What would a trip down to the lower part of the backyard -- the only flat part other than the area immediately around the house -- be without some swinging?
There was of course some playing in the water. More than a little. It was a pole for the afternoon, that and the swing. Swing a little, play with a stick in the water a little. Repeat.
Each time we returned to the swing, the shadows were a bit longer, the air a bit chillier, and my initial excitement somewhat dampened. After all, what is swinging for the pusher? Now that the Boy can carry on long conversations, it's so much more than it used to be, but it's still a little monotonous. Especially when the Boy gets hooked on a conversational topic, like this afternoon, when he was talking constantly about his blue snake.
"Mama loves my blue snake. L loves my blue snake. Papa loves my blue snake. Nana loves my blue snake."
"No, no, I assure you, Nana does not in any way care for your blue snake?"
"She doesn't like my blue snake?" he asked incredulously.
"She doesn't like any snake, regardless of the color or the owner."
But what was this blue snake? It was in the water, he claimed, in the trees he pointed out later. It was everywhere -- including in the swing when E hissed at me and then giggled -- everywhere and nowhere.
We went down to the water's edge at a new spot, more overgrown than the places we normally approach the drainage ditch we call the river when we're playing. It was there we saw the blue snake yet again, a bit of vine trailing into the water, swaying with the current. Decidedly not blue, but somewhat like a snake.
"There's my blue snake!"
But shortly after that, it was back in the yard before it mysteriously made its way back to his room.
As we explored, we saw that the wind and rain of earlier this week had knocked down some fairly substantial branches, and so we gathered them into a pile -- wood for our fire pit or, if the quality is there, for smoking some chunk of meat.
"I'm helping you!" the Boy exclaimed as he usually does, and this time, he was right. Though his help often ends up only causing more work, this time he indeed helped.
"Soon you'll help by mowing the lawn, cleaning up all of the branches, turning the compost -- lots of help" I could have said, but he would have only answered as he always does, repeating what I just said with his mildly incredulous tone: "I'll help you mow?"
By then it was time to head back down to the swing, though. The shadows were noticeably longer, and E put his hands in his jacket pocket, a real indication that it's about time to go in.
There was reticence, as always, but the promise of being able to do it all again tomorrow has more and more of an effect the older he gets.
Saturday Ritual
Humans love rituals, and we're no exception. You could just about tell the time of day on an average Saturday by what we're doing. The first activity naturally is one that can't be photographed: sleeping past six in the morning. Since K has become a stay-at-home mother, we don't have as frantic weekday mornings as we used to, but they're still weekday mornings, with all the unavoidable stress included, just lessened. Lunches to make, hair to brush, mouths to feed. But Saturday mornings, the only alarm clock is the Boy, which can sometimes sleep mercifully until almost eight sometimes.
Babcia always follows sleep. Put the coffee on, get the kids eating, then call Babcia on Skype. In the past, that involved the big computer. Then the laptop. Now we even sometimes use the little seven-inch Nexus, which means E can eat breakfast and show Babcia his new toys simultaneously. Yet within that little slice of Saturday we have mini-rituals, like standing with E at the refrigerator as he decides which yogurt he wants for breakfast.
Then there's play. The Boy, still thrilled with his new toys, plays with Mater and Lightning McQueen on a daily basis, and Saturdays are no different. Even in his play, though, his polite personality shines: his toys always ask "please" of each other and respond with "thank you" and "you're welcome." The Boy hasn't yet figured out how to do Mater's southern accent, but give him time.
Mid-morning brings Polish lessons. Babcia has sent the Boy some coloring books, so he joins in the Polish lessons as well. He's much more enthusiastic, but that probably has a lot to do with the difficult of his lessons compared to the Girl's. She's learning to read in Polish, and that's a struggle for her. It's not so much that the reading is difficult. She's an excellent reader in English, and I think her frustration comes from that contrast. She often complains about doing "baby work" when K asks her to sound out a new long word.
The newest Saturday morning ritual: bread. "It's a good hobby to have," a friend commented, and indeed it is. But like L's view of Polish, it's a little harder than it looks.
"It's a real art," K says every time she bakes a loaf.
Hiding Place
Haircut
First time at the barber, disaster. Subsequent times, no problem.
First time at home, disaster. Subsequent times, no problem. Sort of.
At Last
E has wanted Mater from Cars for so long that he grew desperate: he began calling any of his cars that looked vaguely like a tow truck "Mater." And he found a car to substitute for Ramon as well.
But as of tonight, he no longer has to pretend. He's got the real thing. And when he received it, he showed once again a sweet peculiarity in his personality: no child I've ever seen shows joy and gratitude as unreservedly as the Boy.
"Oh thank you!" he gushed. "It's wonderful!"