I've always thought that Baeleigh had my independent streak. And she does, but unfortunately Gavin may have gotten it passed on to him as well along with a dash of attitude from at least one of his parents (pointing at Tommy). If there is a stereotype for a little boy, there's a picture of Gavin underneath of that description. He hits, kicks, smacks, pulls the dogs tail, runs off from me, throws nasty temper tantrums, pinches and will even laugh if you hurt yourself. All that and you can't help but stiffle a laugh when he yells at me: "Bop it, Mommy!" and raises his hand up at me to smack me. Or he squinches up his nose and says, "I no wannit, Mommy!" He'll fit to the bitter end (of the stairs or into this room) when bedtime comes, but once he's changed and I mention that mommy will read him a story, he quiets down and climbs into bed. He prepare his spot with his 10 stuffed buddies encircling him, props his head up on his hands and says, "Story mommy." Just the expression on his face as he readies himself to listen intently to the same two stories that he asks for every night (I have got to expand his book collection - Baeleigh's old ones are long gone) is priceless.
And, for a two year old, he's got quite the opinion on him. For example, lately his requested bedtime reading has been repeatedly Brown Bear, Brown Bear - What Do You See? I try to make this as interactive as possible for two reasons: 1) it distracts him from realizing that he's actually going to bed (prevents the whole tantrum scene) and 2) because he needs some encouragement to remember colors and numbers. (If I ever get this child to recognize colors, it'll be a miracle. Baeleigh knew colors at like 1 1/2.) So, I read, "Red bird, red bird, what do you see? I see a....goldfish looking at me!" Gavin's response: "Mommy, bite you!" "Goldfish won't bite you!", "Yes, BITE-CHOOO MOMMY!" and nodding his head furiously with eyes popped wide open. Not sure where the fascination is with everything biting you came from, but nonetheless. And, it's always the goldfish, the dog and the horse. Go figure! Whoever's telling him that they bite, I have yet to figure out. Meanwhile, as I turn each page, Baeleigh is attempting to interject her daily word minimum on me with some loose tie in to whatever random animal I turned the page too. "Yeah, Gavin, white dog. You know Mr. Guido's white dog, Tinkerbell, yeah, she came over and peed in our yard and G said go home Tinkerbell and kept shooing her away and she just kept barking but Gavin was made because he dropped his popsicle on the ground..." Something like that. You know, the sentences that never end or have a breath of a pause in sight. Mental note: Increase separate Baeleigh-Mommy time so that she can expunge her brainload of thoughts on me in peace, and not during Gavin's bedtime routine.
Neither kid never ceases to amuse or surprise me.
