All in all, it was a pretty good day. Jack had an appointment and I was able to tell the doctor what a wonderful baby he is. John was cute and not too disruptive there except when he wanted to sing Baa Baa Black Sheep. Both boys had shots and John didn't even cry (he didn't cry for his blood draw a few months ago either!), and Jack reacted how I expected -- cried some at the doctor's and cried for several minutes today any time I touched his leg. I don't blame him.
Anyway, lunch and laundry and naps went pretty smoothly, and before too long it was time to pick up Jim. I have been planning to walk to pick him up sometime but I still felt like today would be a tiny bit too warm for me to really enjoy walking up the really steep hill with a stroller and a baby carrier, so I drove again. Instead of going straight home, we went to a nearby park with his friend and played for about an hour. Then we walked back to the car and strapped everyone back in.
When I turned the key, I heard a lot of clicking, and the radio turned on, but the engine stayed off.
Oh, great, I thought. I tried again and again, and still nothing. Since my mom was more familiar with the car, I called her to ask how old the battery was. She suggested making sure that it was in park and pressing the brake when turning the ignition. No success. I didn't quite channel my inner Eugene England, but I did pray that it would work. I guess God had other plans for our afternoon. I called Kevin to let him know, and we figured that we may as well just walk home instead of wait for him to get back from work.
So back out of the car and back into the baby carrier and stroller went Jack and John. I was grateful I had had them on hand for the park play date. Jim had already been telling me he was hungry despite two snacks at the park, so I wasn't really looking forward to the walk home despite my impulsive promise they could have ice cream when we got home. We often resort to the alphabet game and I spy on walks, but I suspected those wouldn't be fun enough for him to make the walk whining-free.
"I wish we could play something like Chutes and Ladders to pass the time," I thought to myself as we walked.
"Wait. We can play Chutes and Ladders," I realized.
"Jim, I'm rolling the dice. No, wait, I'm spinning the spinner. You move ahead six squares." He did as I said and walked up. "Let's see, you landed on the square that was a good choice. You shared Magna Tiles with your little brother, and the consequence is that . . . you got ice cream. Move up 5 more spaces!"
"Yeah!" he said with excitement and ran further ahead. Then it was my turn. He spun his spinner and told me I needed to walk up to the fire hydrant.
"You listened to your mom and did what she said. That was a good choice. Move ahead!" I technically did listen to my mom and did what she said, so I definitely deserved to get ahead.
Then it was his turn. I scrambled to think of something naughty that he would never do. "Uh oh. You made a bad choice. You . . . spilled pasta sauce all over your bed. That means you have to spin in a circle three times." (There was no way we were walking backwards.)
My turn to move. "You cut down a tree to build a house," Jim told me.
"Is that a good choice or a bad choice?"
He looked at me solemnly. "A good choice."
I realized right then I had never read him The Giving Tree. Partially because of the back cover.
I tried to think of other good and bad choices as we went -- putting silverware away, talking nicely, making his bed, etc.
And so did Jim.
"You were a friend to someone who didn't have any friends. That's a good choice."
"You threw a bush into a dumpster. Bad choice."
"You hit someone with a stick. Bad choice."
"You planted a tree because you cut the other one down. Good choice."
John played along too as much as he understood. Most importantly, he got out of the stroller and walked, which made the climb up the hill that much easier and intersections that much more stressful. The walk went slowly but happily, and we got home right when Kevin did. He took the other car and successfully jumpstarted the battery of the minivan. It's a temporary fix, but at least he got it home.
And what happened while Kevin was gone? "You said we could have ice cream when we got home!" Jim reminded me. I had intended that to be after dinner, but, well, it was definitely part of dinner. (We got some rice and fruit in them too after the ice cream, at least.) I definitely had some too.
And I'll vote that that was a good choice.
Anyway, lunch and laundry and naps went pretty smoothly, and before too long it was time to pick up Jim. I have been planning to walk to pick him up sometime but I still felt like today would be a tiny bit too warm for me to really enjoy walking up the really steep hill with a stroller and a baby carrier, so I drove again. Instead of going straight home, we went to a nearby park with his friend and played for about an hour. Then we walked back to the car and strapped everyone back in.
When I turned the key, I heard a lot of clicking, and the radio turned on, but the engine stayed off.
Oh, great, I thought. I tried again and again, and still nothing. Since my mom was more familiar with the car, I called her to ask how old the battery was. She suggested making sure that it was in park and pressing the brake when turning the ignition. No success. I didn't quite channel my inner Eugene England, but I did pray that it would work. I guess God had other plans for our afternoon. I called Kevin to let him know, and we figured that we may as well just walk home instead of wait for him to get back from work.
So back out of the car and back into the baby carrier and stroller went Jack and John. I was grateful I had had them on hand for the park play date. Jim had already been telling me he was hungry despite two snacks at the park, so I wasn't really looking forward to the walk home despite my impulsive promise they could have ice cream when we got home. We often resort to the alphabet game and I spy on walks, but I suspected those wouldn't be fun enough for him to make the walk whining-free.
"I wish we could play something like Chutes and Ladders to pass the time," I thought to myself as we walked.
"Wait. We can play Chutes and Ladders," I realized.
"Jim, I'm rolling the dice. No, wait, I'm spinning the spinner. You move ahead six squares." He did as I said and walked up. "Let's see, you landed on the square that was a good choice. You shared Magna Tiles with your little brother, and the consequence is that . . . you got ice cream. Move up 5 more spaces!"
"Yeah!" he said with excitement and ran further ahead. Then it was my turn. He spun his spinner and told me I needed to walk up to the fire hydrant.
"You listened to your mom and did what she said. That was a good choice. Move ahead!" I technically did listen to my mom and did what she said, so I definitely deserved to get ahead.
Then it was his turn. I scrambled to think of something naughty that he would never do. "Uh oh. You made a bad choice. You . . . spilled pasta sauce all over your bed. That means you have to spin in a circle three times." (There was no way we were walking backwards.)
My turn to move. "You cut down a tree to build a house," Jim told me.
"Is that a good choice or a bad choice?"
He looked at me solemnly. "A good choice."
I realized right then I had never read him The Giving Tree. Partially because of the back cover.
 |
| Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! |
I tried to think of other good and bad choices as we went -- putting silverware away, talking nicely, making his bed, etc.
And so did Jim.
"You were a friend to someone who didn't have any friends. That's a good choice."
"You threw a bush into a dumpster. Bad choice."
"You hit someone with a stick. Bad choice."
"You planted a tree because you cut the other one down. Good choice."
John played along too as much as he understood. Most importantly, he got out of the stroller and walked, which made the climb up the hill that much easier and intersections that much more stressful. The walk went slowly but happily, and we got home right when Kevin did. He took the other car and successfully jumpstarted the battery of the minivan. It's a temporary fix, but at least he got it home.
And what happened while Kevin was gone? "You said we could have ice cream when we got home!" Jim reminded me. I had intended that to be after dinner, but, well, it was definitely part of dinner. (We got some rice and fruit in them too after the ice cream, at least.) I definitely had some too.
And I'll vote that that was a good choice.
Comments
Post a Comment