If (the beginning of) the end of the world is in a few hours, then I have to say I am pretty pleased with how I've spent the day. Our new sofa was delivered this morning, preceded by delivery of the matching bean bag chairs to which the boys will be consigned until they can learn the difference between furniture and a jungle gym. Then Mom came to pick them up and take them to the Ogden Museum for a couple of hours for a kids dance and art function (Henry won second place in the dance contest), which gave me and Matthew the opportunity for a scooter trip to the farmer's market. We go through strawberries faster than milk these days. Then I got to clean out the medicine cabinet, throw away a lot of junk, and cross off a few other odd jobs that I can never seem to get to when the boys are here. When they got home and Dean went down for a nap, Henry and I walked to the library and then to the cupcake shop that opened up across from Confetti Park. He had a banana cupcake and I had chocolate cream cheese, and we chatted with some tourists from Arizona. We showed some other tourists how to get up on the levee to see the river, which is now disturbingly high. Overtopping is not an issue but the river is moving so much faster than usual and if a barge broke loose...being eight feet above seawater wouldn't help if a wall of water gushes down our street. But we just won't think about that.
No one was thinking much about it last night, when our neighborhood kids group put together a pot luck/daiquiri party at the park. The weather is still mild enough that 5 o'clock on Friday feels just right for a pina colada and some fried chicken outside. Dean is small enough and fearless enough that we still have to keep eyeballs on him at all times, but Henry is at that delightful age when he leaves my side the minute we enter the gate and the next time I am likely to see him is when he accidentally plows into me while running backward to catch something. The boys were so filthy when we got home at 8 o'clock that I put them straight in the shower.
We've been a little too busy lately, but it won't last long. Henry has one more week of school. I'm not sure who is more excited, him or me. No more waking up before 7 to drive him across town! No more homework! No more dealing with his separation anxiety -- well, at least, not for me. He and Dean will go to camp at the montessori school Henry went to before getting into his current public school, and it is here on the west bank, so it will be Matthew's turn to drive and pick up and deal with the emotional turbulence that typically accompanies Henry into any change of scenery. At least overall he does seem to be moving past the petrified stage of his anxiety. Books and talking and I think just learning his own resilience have really helped. He has still had ups and downs but right now we seem to be on a pendulum swing toward strength. The most amazing thing happened when I went to pick him up from his last after school karate lesson. He said, "Next year, I'll get a yellow belt!" Next year, I asked? I thought you never wanted to do karate again (that's been the deal all along -- he had to finish this semester, but we wouldn't make him sign up next year, and he's been consistent about reminding me of that promise after each class). He looked at me like I was crazy. "Yeah, I'm doing it next year. I like it now." I had to contain my urge to jump into the air like one of those people on those old Toyota commercials. Then we talked to his coach, who said he's made amazing improvement and said his commitment to finish the class really paid off because even in the early classes when he was hanging back, he paid attention and his technique is much more fine tuned than other kids at his level. I'm not sure how much was puffery, but Henry was delighted and whether or not he decides in the end to sign up again, it was such a joy to be able to tell him how proud I was of him for sticking with it.
Dean will have his last swim class next week. I don't quite know how to describe his behavior in the water. I wasn't feeling well this past week so Matthew was in the class with him, while I watched them and also Henry, who had a class in the adjacent pool. It was a different perspective from when I am in the water with him, just trying to keep up with him. Watching Dean in the water is like watching a colt running for the first time -- pure joy in motion (credit to Francois Lelord for that simile). He loves it so much it is frightening because he still doesn't have quite the body strength to swim independently (apparently they don't develop this until they are at least 3, though I wouldn't bet against him) but he doesn't seem to know or care. He just plunges in and propels himself forward under the water until someone lifts him up or he reaches the side (he can pull himself up half the time). He does back flips, he floats, he spins, and he comes up laughing and goes right back under again. It is going to be a scary summer.
I am curious to see how Dean will handle his new school. He has thrived at his mother's day out program, but it is only two days a week and his class has not been very academics-oriented. The new school, I know from Henry's experience, is more structured with a bit less activity and he'll go three days a week. But Dean is a quick study and very much a charmer. People seem to fall in love with him, even bigger kids at the park you wouldn't think would want to be bothered with a 2-year old who insists on playing "baby attack." Perhaps because it never occurs to Dean that he's too little to do something (unless he doesn't want to do it, like potty training, in which case he explains with a shrug, "but I'm not big yet"), and also because he reads people very well; he just seems to know how to please people. He still has a temper but he saves it for me and Matthew and Henry. Yesterday at the park he kept trying to go down the slide head first and it was causing alarm among other parents (okay, I was a tiny bit worried myself) and holding up the line so I told him he had to go down feet first. "No, don't tell me that," he said, "leave me alone." I repeated that he had to do it feet first or he would have to get off the slide. This time he yelled at me, "No, I'm not doing it like that, go away from me!" Nearby conversations stopped. But this was not my first time at the rodeo so I kept calm and repeated the deal and this time he did exactly what I asked and was perfectly happy from then on. It's typically like that -- he resists vehemently but ultimately he is a clever calculator and prefers freedom to time-out. I am holding on dearly to the last wisps of his babyhood. Henry just this week started calling me "Mom" instead of "Mommy" and I know that is the death knell for anyone ever calling me Mommy again. Dean wants few things more than he wants to be exactly like Henry, from his clothes to his speech to his friends and his toys. But Henry still loves to cuddle and Dean frequently makes my day by throwing his arms around my neck and sighing, "I love you," so I'll not complain too much.
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