Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Oedipus is alive and well
For over a week, Max has been looking forward to a sleepover at Babee's tonight. As a general rule, I withhold from Max information about those activities about which he's likely to be most exuberant--birthday parties, visit to the zoo, trips to the ranch, and most of all, sleepovers at Babee's house. My motivation is largely selfish: I avoid the persistent pestering that is Max's outlet for anticipation. But I also do it to protect Max, in a way. If circumstances change, as they often do with kids, I've spared him a dose of disappointment.
But this time, Max was loaded with knowledge, and he was singleminded in his enthusiasm. So much so that he called Babee--all by himself, mind you--at 6:37 this morning. (Independence in a 4-year old is a mixed bag.)
So I thought it was a ploy when he balked at going to gymnastics this afternoon. "My feet hurt," he protested. "And my throat. But they won't hurt at Babee's tonight." Then I took an earnest look at Max. The pink patches beneath his eyes accentuated his droopy, faraway look. I ran my fingers under his chin and down his neck. He winced. The bulges in his neck were not only palpable, they were visible, giving him a passing resemblance to an NFL linebacker. The thermometer registered 101.6. Max had just forfeited his sleepover.
Surely it was a sign of just how bad Max felt that he didn't resist my suggestion of a nap. He and I curled up together in his bed; Boo, alone in his own bed, eyed us longingly from across the room. Soon we all succumbed to sleep.
But Boo's memory is proving to be quite durable--not unlike his dad's.
When I tucked him into bed this evening, long after Max had retired, Boo asked me to lie down beside him, his first such request in many weeks. Warding off the chill of a late season cold front, we snuggled beneath a mound of blankets, giggling. We exchanged eskimo kisses. And then Boo bestowed me with the most beatific smile.
"I feel soooo safe, mommy."
"I feel safe, too, Boo."
"You make me so very, very happy."
"Oh, Boo, you make me happy, too."
These are the indescribably delicious moments of parenthood-- sweet, tender, as close to heaven on earth as I'll ever know.
And then he continued. "Renember (sic) daddy?"
"Of course, sweetie. Isn't your daddy the best daddy in the world?"
"I'm going to eat him all up, and then he'll be gone."
Boo smacked his lips a few times in apparent satisfaction, and, having dispatched his imagined adversary, fell fast asleep.
But this time, Max was loaded with knowledge, and he was singleminded in his enthusiasm. So much so that he called Babee--all by himself, mind you--at 6:37 this morning. (Independence in a 4-year old is a mixed bag.)
So I thought it was a ploy when he balked at going to gymnastics this afternoon. "My feet hurt," he protested. "And my throat. But they won't hurt at Babee's tonight." Then I took an earnest look at Max. The pink patches beneath his eyes accentuated his droopy, faraway look. I ran my fingers under his chin and down his neck. He winced. The bulges in his neck were not only palpable, they were visible, giving him a passing resemblance to an NFL linebacker. The thermometer registered 101.6. Max had just forfeited his sleepover.
Surely it was a sign of just how bad Max felt that he didn't resist my suggestion of a nap. He and I curled up together in his bed; Boo, alone in his own bed, eyed us longingly from across the room. Soon we all succumbed to sleep.
But Boo's memory is proving to be quite durable--not unlike his dad's.
When I tucked him into bed this evening, long after Max had retired, Boo asked me to lie down beside him, his first such request in many weeks. Warding off the chill of a late season cold front, we snuggled beneath a mound of blankets, giggling. We exchanged eskimo kisses. And then Boo bestowed me with the most beatific smile.
"I feel soooo safe, mommy."
"I feel safe, too, Boo."
"You make me so very, very happy."
"Oh, Boo, you make me happy, too."
These are the indescribably delicious moments of parenthood-- sweet, tender, as close to heaven on earth as I'll ever know.
And then he continued. "Renember (sic) daddy?"
"Of course, sweetie. Isn't your daddy the best daddy in the world?"
"I'm going to eat him all up, and then he'll be gone."
Boo smacked his lips a few times in apparent satisfaction, and, having dispatched his imagined adversary, fell fast asleep.
1 Comments:
How did you keep from laughing?
I can just see old Sigmund nodding his head knowingly...
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