Growing Up

Yali discovered ice for the first time today. I had a little leftover blackberry Izze in a glass, which I let him finish off. But it was the ice that intrigued him more than the drink. He continued to point at the ice machine throughout lunch, wanting more and more. Well if that’s one way to get some water into that kid… sometimes I think he lived off only milk down south of the border.

After school, Puck ran off for the large recycling bins in the gym again. He’s not the only one anymore; he’s solicited a few companions in this process, depending on who’s available on which particular day. Yesterday he pulled out hundreds of misprinted school fundraiser invitations. Hundreds. And a broken laundry basket.

There was also the usual haggling over Yali between the girls. I guess too much love is a good thing.

Another drive home in cold wind. Puck thought things over from the day which, as always, came out in bits and pieces during those thirty minutes or so.

“Mom? Can we get some binoculars? We REALLY need some binoculars. Then I can read signs ahead of us and we’ll know if there’s danger!”

Back home the evening was even colder, and gray. I saw Puck playing “pretend” with his buddy down the street. Earlier, he had convinced Yali to come downstairs with him to clean the litter box. I looked over from doing the laundry at this potential disaster.

“Okay, Yali. Okay. I’m going to teach you how to do this. Hold this bag for me. That’s right. Hold it right there…”

Sometimes I don’t know why I let them do the things they think up. Fortunately – this time – there were no unpleasant consequences from this Tom Sawyer experience.

At dinner, Yali requested more ice. Just kept licking it. You’d think it was dessert or something.

Eight o’clock – Puck’s bedtime. He had recently removed himself from the shower and brushed his hair straight up on end to look like a sea urchin. I thought he was spending an abnormal amount of time in the bathroom.

“I did it on purpose!” he announced proudly when he emerged sometime later to show me the results. “I look like EINSTEIN!”

Then he stood on our bed in his footy pajamas, threw both hands up in the air, saying, “Peace out!”, and fell backwards into the arms of his waiting dad to carry him back to bed.

This kid may be growing like a weed and halfway to college, but sometimes he’s still about two years old.