The end of a big day
Trey had a big one yesterday, as far as four-year-old boys' days can go.
After a full morning at church, lunch with Giga and Poppop. Followed by some super-exciting man time: a ride on Poppop's boat, feeding some fish, playing some arcade games, an icee and a lollipop, and yet another ride on Poppop's boat.
Spoilage is a grandparent's highest calling, no?
Followed by the obligatory screaming fit of devastation and despair because I had the audacity to suggest that Trey leave his Giga and ride home with me. This lasted a good twenty minutes, well into our car ride.
And as typical, Trey went from sobbing one moment to a very rational, "Mama, I will drink ALL my lemonade, then I'll be happy." Then back to sobbing between sips. True enough, as soon as the lemonade was gone, he perked right up and asked for his music on the radio.
I suppose we all must go through a period of mourning over separation from our most beloved.
Anyway, the evening progressed as Sunday evenings usually do. A little rasslin, a little racing, the dinner battleground, and all the while we notice Trey starting to drag.
Just before bedtime, I am brushing Trey's teeth. Instead of him holding his mouth open, it's just kind of hanging there. By now his eye blinks are lasting a good four seconds each, and he is all but propped up against me to stay standing.
Trey: I don't wanna go to bed.
Mama: Yes you do. Buddy, you're almost asleep right now!
Trey: I'm so confused.
Yes, big days will do that to you.
After a full morning at church, lunch with Giga and Poppop. Followed by some super-exciting man time: a ride on Poppop's boat, feeding some fish, playing some arcade games, an icee and a lollipop, and yet another ride on Poppop's boat.
Spoilage is a grandparent's highest calling, no?
Followed by the obligatory screaming fit of devastation and despair because I had the audacity to suggest that Trey leave his Giga and ride home with me. This lasted a good twenty minutes, well into our car ride.
And as typical, Trey went from sobbing one moment to a very rational, "Mama, I will drink ALL my lemonade, then I'll be happy." Then back to sobbing between sips. True enough, as soon as the lemonade was gone, he perked right up and asked for his music on the radio.
I suppose we all must go through a period of mourning over separation from our most beloved.
Anyway, the evening progressed as Sunday evenings usually do. A little rasslin, a little racing, the dinner battleground, and all the while we notice Trey starting to drag.
Just before bedtime, I am brushing Trey's teeth. Instead of him holding his mouth open, it's just kind of hanging there. By now his eye blinks are lasting a good four seconds each, and he is all but propped up against me to stay standing.
Trey: I don't wanna go to bed.
Mama: Yes you do. Buddy, you're almost asleep right now!
Trey: I'm so confused.
Yes, big days will do that to you.
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