In an effort to get The Baby Nickel to stop napping during rest time, I’ve taken to keeping him downstairs for his quiet time, in the only separate room (except for the bathroom) in our open downstairs. (When you see pictures of the kitchen/dining-living room, you are seeing the vast majority of our central living space.) But still, he falls asleep.
This wouldn’t be a problem, except that then he is wired at bedtime, sometimes not going to sleep till 10 or even 10:30. I like my quiet, kid-free evenings, so this is a serious problem.
I have to keep reminding myself that this, too, shall pass.
Kids grow up, you know. It’s the funniest thing. Yo-Yo used to wear diapers and now he mows our lawn. On the zero-turn mower.
The kid loves the thing. He begs to mow the lawn.
Hey, Mom, come out here and look at this! See how high the grass is? It comes all the way to my ankle! Don’t you think it’s time for me to mow again? How about I call Papa and see if he’ll let me mow tonight? Huh? Huh? Can I? Can I call him? Huh? MOM! I NEED TO MOW THE LAWN NOW OR I’LL DIE!
Okay, so he doesn’t actually say he’ll die, but that’s how he acts. And he’s pretty convincing. The kid has a flair for the dramatic. Trust me on this one.
He does a pretty decent job, too, with the mowing thang, now that he’s learned to aim the spraying grass away from the lettuces and spinach, to drive around the yard in a systematic pattern (not all loopy-like), to get closer to trees and shrubs without chopping them completely off (to be fair, that only happened once, I think).
He’s such a little Mr. Handsome, what with his ear and eye protection, work gloves, and his calm manner and intense focus. The machine scares the crap out of me, it’s so touch-sensitive and fast, but he’s cool as a cucumber on it, zipping about like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Which I think he probably does.
In a couple years he’ll be able to do the whole lawn, start to finish, including the weed-wacking.
The kid ain’t in diapers no more, that’s for sure.