heartbeat

OK, it's official: Sam's brother or sister is due August 10th. Or thereabouts. We saw the heartbeat today.

Of course, after this past summer, we are still cautious at this stage: we saw a heartbeat then too, and then two weeks later heartbreak. But we're optimistic.

But in the meantime, the very nice ultrasound tech printed a separate blurry picture just for Sam, which he examined very closely this evening with his magnifying glass (he is convinced of the magical power of magnifying glasses and microscopes after weeks of nightly readings of Flotsam). Sam is having mixed feelings (we don't bring it up that often, but he's known for a while); he sometimes talks about things he will show or teach the baby, but the other night as I was leaving his room after snuggling in his bed for a while, he asked why I keep having babies. Just one more, Sam, I told him, our family will have you and your brother or sister. But why? he said, I don't want to have another baby, I want to be the only baby. I gave him lots of kisses and reassurance... mindful of Penelope Leach's analogies between things commonly said to first children when discussing siblings, and how such things would sound when spoken by one spouse to another ("I like having you as a wife so much that I thought I'd get another one! You can help me take care of her!") and glad we have lots of time for him to begin to work out his feelings.

more potty humor

J. got back last night after 10 days away, and Sam has been beside himself with excitement. This evening they've been playing while I attempt to finish drafting a fellowship application that's due frighteningly soon. Yes, I have been procrastinating, but I've also been solo-parenting and grading last semester's final papers while existing on 3-ish hours of sleep a night, due to some miserable insomniac effect of hormonal wackiness. (Which seems to have abated just the past two nights-- the insomnia, that is, not the hormonal wackiness.) Anyway-- tonight after reconfiguring the tracks on the train table

and building walls out of big cardboard blocks, they went fishing over the side of the bedrail.


Sam's in his pajamas because it was Pajama Day at preschool, and had donned a fishing hat of J's (bit mysterious because I'm not sure J.'s ever been fishing, or at least not since childhood).

Anyway, Sam had been jumping around clearly needing to pee but denying it, and then finally realized what was going on with his bladder and ran to the bathroom, asking J. to pull down his pants because the urge was so desperate. And... Sam didn't quite make it, as evidenced by the brief yelp from J. coming from the bathroom, then Sam observing, "You got pee on your pants too."

gayline

So the other night we were eating twice-baked potatoes and Sam had broccoli on the side ("can I have some meat or something please?" he asked politely upon seeing his plate) and I had a raw carrot because broccoli seemed distinctly unappealing at the time; J. has been out of town writing. Sam finished his broccoli with gusto, as usual, then watching me crunch my carrot asked for a "whole big carrot" (as opposed to the usual carrot sticks), so I gave him one. And watched carefully to make sure he was chewing, and asked him to please chew carefully. He remarked on how hard it was to bite through, and said he would have to use his sharpest teeth to do so: "my gay-line teeth" he said. I didn't catch it and had to ask, "which ones?", upon which he clarified "these pointy ones!" Oh right! The gayline teeth.

Also: the kids illustrated and narrated books at preschool during a theme on stories and story-telling. Sam's was entitled "Poopy Everywhere" and though one might at first charitably imagine that he was following up on "Everyone Poops", an occasional favorite read of ours, closer inspection reveals that the style is somewhat-- ok completely-- different. For example, the last page reads: "And then he pooped all over the house, even on the walls and even all over the ceiling!" with an illustration that heavily features brown marker. His teachers told him he had to take it home, because they don't use bathroom language in the classroom (outside of the restroom area)-- but they stressed to me that they told him he did a good job and there was nothing wrong with the book, he just couldn't keep it at school (where all the other kids' books are displayed on a wall). He still seemed proud of it when we first looked at it, with lots of guffawing as we read it together, but after he overheard me telling someone about it, he got embarrassed, and now says he made a "book about a bad thing". Which is a tough one, because while the potty talk can get waaaay too exuberant (and there are seriously turds depicted on every page of the book-- all four of them, if you include the cover), I don't want him to feel bad about what he makes, either.

latest snudge

Two from tonight:
"I think skyscraper is another word for babysitter."
Really? why is that?
"Because skyscrapers babysit the sky."

"Daddy, would you prefer to have your ice cream another time?"


And from the past couple months...
(Having been told he couldn't go to the airport to pick up Aunt L., who was arriving late in the evening for Thanksgiving):
"When I am a grownup, I will do the things that grownups do."
Do you think that will be fun?
"Yes. I will go to meet people when they come to visit, and you... will stay HOME! and go to BED!"

(During a week-long focus on "friends and families" at preschool):
"What are grownups who live by themselves called?"
Hm, what do you mean?
"What are grownups who live by themselves called?"
(I think for a bit.) What are grownups who don't live by themselves called?
"Families. So what are grownups who live by themselves called?"