I have been tired lately for I have been woken by my littlest boy lying flat on my tummy and pinching my nose. At two, three and then four in the morning. At five he raided the fridge, at six he emptied the cereal boxes. At seven while I was in the shower he placed mangoes, watermelon and grapes on the bathmat to greet my feet when I emerged.
Eight o’clock was a cereal bowl dumped on his head and nine was shaving cream covering the entire bath ledges and his face. He smelled quite manly today! Ten o’clock was driving to the doctors office where he kept yelling “what’s this? Anders is where?” (some things you do not tell), eleven was his first x-ray. He smiled so sweetly wearing his “spesheel yacket” that the technician commented over his stunning blue eyes and how he must be such a little angel. Yea, right. As Lars told me later. “we know the true story”…
Twelve was lunch in the nearest place I could find, a hospital cafeteria where he tried to pay the cashier with cherry tomatoes. While we were eating and I had turned my head for just a second he grabbed all our water glasses and dumped them on his plate. He seemd to like mushy fries and melon and eating six packs of ketchup. Perhaps he simply enjoyed grossing his brother out. This went on for quite awhile.
By two he had fallen asleep in the car and was carried into his crib where he giggled when he saw his favorite stuffed animal (a pink pig named Wilbur who he calls his poor baby) for the sight of the word “pink” is something he finds hilarious since he has been learning his colors. Everything is usually orange. By three and much to Larsen’s disgust (why do children think I exist to entertain and serve 24/7?) I collapsed on my bed and fell into a deep sleep. By four I was woken by screams for Anders had woken and was chasing Lars around the house with a broom in one hand and a banana in the other. I had to intervene.
By five I fixed leftovers, by six an art project. By seven glitter, glue and tissue paper covered the sweet boy and another bath. By eight with stories all read and jammies on I laid him down. By nine he was up again. I told Ben I was officially clocked out for the day and I locked myself in my room. It is ten and I hear his little voice again saying “Ta-da Daddy! Anders is here!”. And all of this because a week ago he learned to climb out of his crib. I knew containing him this long was too good to be true. He acts like a teenager who just got car keys. It is the end of an era which may very well equal the end of my sanity.
You would be tired too.