March 7, 2008
Yesterday Miles was running outside and fell. He cried, but he was fully dressed and wearing a coat to cushion the fall. The palm of his hand had a tiny virtually invisible abrasion. This of course necessitated that I carry him the rest of the way. Regardless of the fact that it was icy, uphill and I was wearing shoes that were not appropriate for icy, uphill, child carrying events.
After a little while he was fine and forgot all about it.
Because there were new things to be indignant about, like not getting to monopolize the puck during floor hockey.
Later that night when getting his clothes off for bedtime he noticed that he had an abrasion on his elbow. The TRAGEDY. He was injured. Oh the drama. Finally he put on what looked like a brave face and very seriously said to me, “I okay. It’s alright. I okay.”
Then he ran to the doorway of the room and called to his siblings, “Guys! Guys! I okay, guys! I okay!” And from the sounds of them ignoring him I could tell they were relieved.
Miles has developed a habit of drinking out of a tiny cup. An espresso cup that they use for their pretend kitchen.
It is adorable. I honestly have to restrain myself from squeezing his cheeks and then eating him right up.
Except for when I have to get up during dinner and fill it every time he takes a swallow. Because that is all the water that it can hold. The plus side? When he spills it there isn’t very much to clean up.
We are having dinner guests tonight. In anticipation the pellet stove got clogged and began spewing smoke into the room and not up the chimney. I then had to take it all apart and clean it. It is a long involved messy process, but the worst is that my hands were covered with black soot that doesn’t easily wash off. My hands look like I have been out in the garage working on some engines.
I am looking forward to saying, “I made this dinner with my own hands.” And then holding them up for effect.
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