The last few days we've all been feeling a bit under the weather, with allergies or the mildest of colds, or some garbage causing fatigue, mild congestion, head clogginess, and scratchy throats. The kids just seem to have runny noses but I've been feeling the worst so far. Again, not terrible, just mild yuckiness and lots of tired. I've been extra impatient and frustrated and we've all been yelling at each other more than we should.
Tonight Jeff was up with the kids getting them bathed and ready for bed while I finished up cleaning up from a late dinner and some very excellent chocolate covered strawberries from Aunt Debby and Uncle Rich. Over the course of the evening we had yelled at Theo probably 15 times to close the screen door behind him, 10 times to take off his shoes before running through the house with wet, muddy feet, and 5 times to eat over his plate. 2 times to pick up his wet, dirty clothes and put them--all of them!--in the hamper on his way upstairs. And another 2 times not to touch anything on his way upstairs--not even the rug!--to the shower because his fingers were covered in chocolate.
As I finished washing the last dish, I heard little feet on the stairs. Theo came down, stood in front of me, and said, "Mommy, is there anything I can do to help you?" I sank to the floor, wrapped my arms around him, and apologized for being so frustrated and impatient lately. I said I was tired and feeling sick and that I would try to do better. Theo looked at me and said, "You're good just the way you are." I asked him to repeat it, because I couldn't believe what he had just said. I asked Jeff, because I thought maybe he had put Theo up to coming downstairs, but he didn't even know he was coming down. What a kid!
Reed's favorite game with me these days is "I knock you over," wherein I sit up, and he runs full power at my chest to tackle me to the floor. Then I wrestle him and he gets loose and then helps me back up to sitting before repeating. Today he developed a new twist on it, wherein he enjoys me narrating how peacefully I'm sitting, enjoying being by myself, before he sneak-attacks me and tackles me to the ground. He also loves giving and getting big hugs, wrapping his tiny arms around my neck, and kissing me all over. Reed is a big kisser, often coming up and kissing me on the arm, or the cheek, or the forehead, or the leg--whatever he can reach. When he is mad, or melting down, or tired, or hungry, he often comes up to me crying and says, simply, "hug!" or "I need a hug!" I think it's amazing how much he knows himself, and knows what he needs.
