My dear Miles wanted “cream with that…um, that… whatayacallit?” Pineapple, honey. “Oh, yeah, pineapple, yeah, I want that with cream.” Um, what the heck…
Coming in to my room, as I’m dressing he says, “where are you going?” And I explain that I’m simply getting dressed for the day. “But why?” So I explain that I’m simply getting dressed for the day. “Are you going to a party?” No, I’m simply getting dressed for the day.
He gives up and walks away, confused.
It dawns on me that maybe Miles can’t understand what I’m doing because I don’t generally rush to the ‘getting ready’ stage very often. You should see his face when I actually do my hair, wear make-up and dress up(which for me means pants and a nicer-ish shirt). He looks at me like his mom has been replaced by some other more put-together person and says something like, “mommy, you look beautiful,” which should really make me want to gussy up more often.
But I don’t.
In brother news, I am still trying to figure out how to deal with Miles getting his kicks from hurting his brother (they say this is normal, but I really would like it to…STOP). Pushing him over, poking his eye, bonking him over the head with toys, etc. Every time (and I mean every time) I leave the room, a moment or two later, Asher starts to cry due to the latest offense. So I’m walking to the living room after hearing the ever-so-familiar cries, to investigate and lecture and I hear Miles say, “it’s okay baby. Someday I won’t make you cry.”
Well, at least he recognizes there’s a problem. Knows it needs to stop. And possibly has set a goal…for…”someday.” Sounds like he may conquer this addiction yet…
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