Tuesday, August 09, 2005

dogs bark, cats run, bugs bite, helicopters watch

We have missed all the services of preparation for Dormition for reasons good and bad. I was prepared this evening to attend by hook or crook.

When I arrive home from work David and Jaime are asleep. Jaime seems to have a bug and feels lousy. David refused to take a nap all day, and then fell asleep in his high chair. I had some dinner and woke him up. If he sleeps too late, he'll be up all night. Very unhappy to be awakened. Very fussy. The service begins at 6:30. At 6:45 it is clear that David would not be able to handle it. Jaime says, "he sounds like I feel." His nose is runny and he is generally miserable.

So we go for a walk. A casual stroll. He stops to pick up stick after stick. "sTIK," he declares with each new one. The mosquitoes are thick. Even with repellent, I can't keep them off of him. At the Devon we cut through the courtyard to find kitties. I ask him to put his stick on the ground before we see any kitties. He does. They run from him anyway. Too bad.

As we leave the courtyard, he steps down off the sidewalk. It is a about three inches--impossible a week ago without help. I praise him "good step!" So he steps back up and does it again and again saying "step!" each time. We finally move along identifying trees and cars. He is very curious, stopping and squatting over and investigating and looking up and around to identify sounds of things he can't see. After about five minutes of this he is walking steadily down the sidewalk. As he steps over the edge of a buckled slab, he stays "step."

We play hide and seek around an oak tree but he is quickly distracted by the barking of a dog.

He breaks a stick into a larger and smaller piece. After several unsuccessful attempts to put it back together, he brings it to me pleading "on? on?"

"I can't, it doesn't go on. It's broken."
"On? On?"
"It's broken." He looks at both pieces and then drops the smaller one mumbling "broken."

He calls a yellow Tom cat in the street a tiger.

The police helicopter circles the neighborhood. Whenever he sees it, he points, "hairpwane" (airplane).
"No, helicopter."
". . . "
"Try 'chopper'"
"Yes! Chopper"

We play hide and seek around the buick. He is still distracted by every dog he hears.

Papa Alex comes to clean out the Festiva. David is squealing thrilled. He climbs into the car and into the driver's seat. Alex shows him how to blow the horn, a mistake.

Back home finally after forty minutes just around the block.

Shower. Milk. Book. Songs. Bed. Blogging

I blog this haiku:
a chopper watches
hide and seek with mosquitoes
words for everything

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