It’s very quiet in my house. And not quiet just because it’s 10:59 at night. It’s quiet because Simon went to Grandma and Grandpa Cale’s house for the entire week.
(Insert Hallelujah music here.)
Don’t get me wrong. I love the kid. I really, really do. I (generally) do not want Simon any place but where I am. I do not want him to be cared for by anyone but us. The things that he knows, he learned here: the emerging letter sounds, the shoe tying, the bike riding, the diving board jumping. We are his teachers. He is ours to mold into the person we desire. A person that is respectful, caring, intelligent, funny, selfless.
For instance, Matt is great at teaching him really useful skills. Skills that will get him far in life (and in kindergarten). I had to be the bully though and introduce a new rule: No armpit farting unless you are in the bathroom.
(Cup your hand in your pit. Move elbow up and down repeatedly. Laugh hysterically.)
But sometimes though, a visit to Grandma’s house is just what we both need. A little time for me to focus solely on Bennett. A little time for Simon to indulge in Grandma and Grandpa’s undivided attention. Time to relax, unwind, and grow a little bit more independent. As a child, I loved nothing more than staying with my Grandma. So when Simon announced he wanted to go, I relented.
I could probably use a lesson myself. Somebody tell me how 5 years and 11 months have gone by so quickly? Time is not on my side. Please, tell me how time has changed my baby into a wild, loud, armpit farting big boy?