He’s Still Alive and Kicking!

My wife was out of town this past weekend, and even though our son, dog, and I had a lot of fun (to the point that I spent half of Sunday trying to clean up all of our messes), we definitely missed her and were quite happy to see her when she returned home Monday. We each missed her in our own ways. I missed her smile that is often lit via the iPhone’s blue light as she reads The Onion or some other online news article. Her absence was especially felt during the evening hours whenever our son would wake up, or the night that our dog had to go outside four times because of diarrhea. Our toddler kept asking for her, and bringing me her running shoes. Perhaps he wanted me to click those Altra heels together and wish her home at that instant? He was in a happy mood all weekend, but did have bits of crankiness that were a little unusual—a sign he knew that life at home was not normal this weekend.  

While she was gone, I was extra diligent with keeping him alive. I always am, but I was nanny careful this weekend. I never have a desire for anything to go wrong and him experience harm. I just was not as lenient as I am with him exploring, using new tools (like the garden shears), and climbing parts of playground equipment that would probably have a “Warning” sign attached if the Parks Director really wanted to. I also checked on him multiple times while he was sleeping to make sure he was still breathing, and I did not fool around with choking-hazardous food this weekend. I refused to let our son die on my watch. I even told him that. 

Me: “Hey Crazy. You’re not allowed to die on my watch this weekend.” 

Son: Silence...a cock of the head with a cute smile, “No! No!” 180 degree turn...fart...and he took off running across the yard toward the garden shears I left on the table . 🤦🏽‍♀️

He’s such a good listener and heeder of parental requests.