Spring has most definitely arrived. Granted, it's still the Chicago area so who knows what next week will bring? But it's been warm and rainy and wonderful for several consecutive days now.
With the rain, we've had a couple of mild thunderstorms, the kind with the distant rolling thunder and lighting that flashes broadly in the sky, almost completely disconnected from its attendant soundtrack.
Having the bedroom windows open has been a novelty for N and a couple of days ago, we were standing in my bedroom, looking out at the trees in the rain. Some rumbles of thunder prompted the question, "Is that thunder?" followed by "Is it going to kill us?"
The best came when lightning flashed bright, all-emcompassing, lighting up the trees and the room and us. He stepped back, surprised, and said, quite seriously, "Hey! Who took that picture of us?"
Friday, March 12, 2010
Immodesty rules
As I have not posted in absolutely ages, it would probably be helpful to sum up the last several (many?) months. But I won't. The only relevance to this story is this: I am in physical therapy 3x a week for my knee.
My 4yo is generally agreed to be a hoot. It's not just me - it's just about anyone who spends more than tiny bit of time with him. And the word is generally "hoot" as in, "He's a hoot!" And I tend to agree - he can be a very funny little boy. Most of the time.
At my physical therapy clinic - a clinic by women for women - there is a tiny little waiting area for kids. Which is a lovely thing for them to have because then I can bring my homeschooled, always-with-me kids along while I spend 1.5+ hours working on my knee. So I can chase them around again soon.
For the last several weeks, my kids have been tagging along while I walk funny, do weird exercises, stand on a balance board, and am rewarded by a lovely ice pack at the end. The boys watch movies, read books, look at cards, generally play nicely and quietly.
Unless someone has to pee. Which is only ever my 4yo. My 9yo would have to be practically wetting his pants before he got up and used the restroom there (though that's a totally different story).
Wednesday, I was sitting on the table at the very end of my session, enjoying the relief of a very large icepack wrapped around my knee, when one of my therapists walked by the hallway leading to the bathroom and sort of gasped, "Oh, he's using the bathroom!" From my perch, I could see the bathroom reflected in the mirror and there is my hoot of a 4yo, pants around his ankles, standing at the toilet, door wide open and cute little buttcheeks hanging out there for God and everybody. Modest, he is not.
Oblivious to any concerns, he just stood there looking at us, clearly wondering why we were suddenly interested. He'd had to pee, he was in the right spot, what's the problem? The therapist shut the door for him, we laughed, and I was only a little embarrassed.
Because I save the big embarrassed for times when he decides he needs to pee and drops trou *before* waddling off to the bathroom.
My 4yo is generally agreed to be a hoot. It's not just me - it's just about anyone who spends more than tiny bit of time with him. And the word is generally "hoot" as in, "He's a hoot!" And I tend to agree - he can be a very funny little boy. Most of the time.
At my physical therapy clinic - a clinic by women for women - there is a tiny little waiting area for kids. Which is a lovely thing for them to have because then I can bring my homeschooled, always-with-me kids along while I spend 1.5+ hours working on my knee. So I can chase them around again soon.
For the last several weeks, my kids have been tagging along while I walk funny, do weird exercises, stand on a balance board, and am rewarded by a lovely ice pack at the end. The boys watch movies, read books, look at cards, generally play nicely and quietly.
Unless someone has to pee. Which is only ever my 4yo. My 9yo would have to be practically wetting his pants before he got up and used the restroom there (though that's a totally different story).
Wednesday, I was sitting on the table at the very end of my session, enjoying the relief of a very large icepack wrapped around my knee, when one of my therapists walked by the hallway leading to the bathroom and sort of gasped, "Oh, he's using the bathroom!" From my perch, I could see the bathroom reflected in the mirror and there is my hoot of a 4yo, pants around his ankles, standing at the toilet, door wide open and cute little buttcheeks hanging out there for God and everybody. Modest, he is not.
Oblivious to any concerns, he just stood there looking at us, clearly wondering why we were suddenly interested. He'd had to pee, he was in the right spot, what's the problem? The therapist shut the door for him, we laughed, and I was only a little embarrassed.
Because I save the big embarrassed for times when he decides he needs to pee and drops trou *before* waddling off to the bathroom.
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