2.75
A couple of weeks ago Henry and I were cuddling in bed before
naptime. He snuggled right up to me and started patting my face and
hair, just like I do to him. Then, in the sweetest little voice, he
says, "You're so pretty, Mama."
"Thanks, buddy," I told him.
Then -- "Mama . . . I'm Hulk, Mama."
Such is Henry at closer-to-three-than-two. He hugs and cuddles and loves his people fiercely, then turns around and tackles someone.
At dinner he charmingly says, "Thank you for cooking this, Mommy!" He gives big kisses and smooshes Ingrid's face while saying, "I love you, chubby baby." But we've also seen our first full-scale, epic, core-meltdown tantrums. Obviously he's screamed and pouted and wailed before (like a hundred times a day). We just hadn't seen him totally lose control until this quarter. One day he totally lost his marbles in a museum because I wouldn't buy him a second tchotchke from the gift shop. He was totally That Kid. Screaming. Flailing on the ground. Hiccuping and gagging. I had to carry him kicking and screaming across Constitution Avenue and wrestle him into the car before he finally calmed down under the restraints of his carseat and told me, "I lost my cool, Mommy."
He starts "school" next week. I'm not sure how it will go. A month ago I was sure it was going to be a disaster because he was vocally opposed to playing with other children and repeatedly protested that he did NOT want to go to school with a teacher and "those other kids," he only wanted to go to school with Mama and Ingrid and Daddy. Sometimes Izzy was permitted to go to school too. Then all of a sudden he got very determined to make friends every time we go to the park, and gets upset when there is no one fun to play with.
On Monday he met a gaggle of boys at the playground. It was a preview of the next 15 years of raising a boy. Henry was probably the youngest, but definitely not the smallest, and the oldest kid was about 6. It looked to me like they were going form a gang and start pillaging the countryside, but Henry explained that they were playing dragon, in which the other boys tried to knock him down and then he tried to knock them down. I was a little worried they were ganging up on him, but he looked like he was having the time of his life. He got walloped to the point of tears twice, but then wanted to run right back to the boys as soon as he was done with my hugs. He wept crocodile tears when it was time for everyone to go home. It makes me hopeful that he will like going to school. I also hope his teacher is cool with boys.
At two and a half, I wrote that he hadn't become a true preschooler yet. Two weeks later, he started asking, "Cuz why?" I both love this phase and am driven totally insane. Most of the time I'm feeling patient enough to answer until he is satisfied. We get all the way down to atoms. Other times I'm at a total loss. One day we saw a man in the park who was wearing a tan shirt. Henry asked if he was naked. I said no, he was wearing a tan shirt. WHY? Um, he likes tan? If I tell him I don't know, or use the parental cop-out of "just because," he calls me out. "No, 'cause WHYYYYY?"
He's really into superheroes and sports. We play Hulk, Spiderman, and Thor all day long. He has Avengers sheets and Spiderman jammies and a Thor helmet fashioned out of a construction helmet and some paper wings. He likes to chase his soccer ball or bat from his big plastic tee with Daddy, but his comprehension of actual game rules is somewhat less than my own, which is to say, virtually nil. We've been reading poems, Pooh, the Jungle Book, and some Curious George. He went through a phase of being really interested in letters, but he's over it now. He wants to do everything just like Daddy lately.
He is my silly, wild, curious, talkative, game-for-anything companion. We're having a great time together.
"Thanks, buddy," I told him.
Then -- "Mama . . . I'm Hulk, Mama."
Such is Henry at closer-to-three-than-two. He hugs and cuddles and loves his people fiercely, then turns around and tackles someone.
At dinner he charmingly says, "Thank you for cooking this, Mommy!" He gives big kisses and smooshes Ingrid's face while saying, "I love you, chubby baby." But we've also seen our first full-scale, epic, core-meltdown tantrums. Obviously he's screamed and pouted and wailed before (like a hundred times a day). We just hadn't seen him totally lose control until this quarter. One day he totally lost his marbles in a museum because I wouldn't buy him a second tchotchke from the gift shop. He was totally That Kid. Screaming. Flailing on the ground. Hiccuping and gagging. I had to carry him kicking and screaming across Constitution Avenue and wrestle him into the car before he finally calmed down under the restraints of his carseat and told me, "I lost my cool, Mommy."
He starts "school" next week. I'm not sure how it will go. A month ago I was sure it was going to be a disaster because he was vocally opposed to playing with other children and repeatedly protested that he did NOT want to go to school with a teacher and "those other kids," he only wanted to go to school with Mama and Ingrid and Daddy. Sometimes Izzy was permitted to go to school too. Then all of a sudden he got very determined to make friends every time we go to the park, and gets upset when there is no one fun to play with.
On Monday he met a gaggle of boys at the playground. It was a preview of the next 15 years of raising a boy. Henry was probably the youngest, but definitely not the smallest, and the oldest kid was about 6. It looked to me like they were going form a gang and start pillaging the countryside, but Henry explained that they were playing dragon, in which the other boys tried to knock him down and then he tried to knock them down. I was a little worried they were ganging up on him, but he looked like he was having the time of his life. He got walloped to the point of tears twice, but then wanted to run right back to the boys as soon as he was done with my hugs. He wept crocodile tears when it was time for everyone to go home. It makes me hopeful that he will like going to school. I also hope his teacher is cool with boys.
At two and a half, I wrote that he hadn't become a true preschooler yet. Two weeks later, he started asking, "Cuz why?" I both love this phase and am driven totally insane. Most of the time I'm feeling patient enough to answer until he is satisfied. We get all the way down to atoms. Other times I'm at a total loss. One day we saw a man in the park who was wearing a tan shirt. Henry asked if he was naked. I said no, he was wearing a tan shirt. WHY? Um, he likes tan? If I tell him I don't know, or use the parental cop-out of "just because," he calls me out. "No, 'cause WHYYYYY?"
He's really into superheroes and sports. We play Hulk, Spiderman, and Thor all day long. He has Avengers sheets and Spiderman jammies and a Thor helmet fashioned out of a construction helmet and some paper wings. He likes to chase his soccer ball or bat from his big plastic tee with Daddy, but his comprehension of actual game rules is somewhat less than my own, which is to say, virtually nil. We've been reading poems, Pooh, the Jungle Book, and some Curious George. He went through a phase of being really interested in letters, but he's over it now. He wants to do everything just like Daddy lately.
He is my silly, wild, curious, talkative, game-for-anything companion. We're having a great time together.
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