It’s 6:30 in the morning—do you know where your children are?
At 6:30 this morning, I knew where my kids were. First off, that’s a complaint on my part, because I don’t want to know anything at 6:30 in the morning. I want to be sleeping. At 6:30 this morning, however, I was not sleeping. Two of my children, including the as-of-yet unveiled Creegan, were just where they should be. Peter was asleep in his crib, and Creegan was chillin’ in the placental Barcalounger that is Melanie’s womb. Edison, on the other hand, was out in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Melanie had warned me the night before that such an act of generosity might occur, for she had told Edison and Peter a bedtime story about two boys surprising their parents with breakfast. Edison woke up this morning wanting to emulate the boys in the story, and so it was that, after several minutes of preparation, Eddie came into our bedroom and handed both of us a bowl of cereal.
It was really quite adorable. I was given a rather large cereal bowl, quite full of milk, with four or five bites of Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries floating at the top. Roughly 120 seconds later, when Melanie and I were finished eating, Eddie began asking Melanie to go make him breakfast and serve it to him in our bed. It took a few minutes of coaxing—we weren’t exactly full of vim and vigor—but soon enough, Melanie and I were in the kitchen, cooking up one of Eddie’s favorites, a “frozen waffle sandwich.” (Melanie did all the work, while I stood nearby encouragingly. A frozen waffle sandwich, if you’re wondering, is just a frozen waffle, toasted, topped with butter and jelly, then folded in half. That’s how I prepare frozen waffles for myself, 97% of the time, though Eddie is the one who gave it a name.) Eddie happily ate the waffle in our bed, while Melanie and I tried to catch more Z’s. We both succeeded, especially me. I was grateful, for I had had a nasty headache, and more sleep proved a cure. When I woke up for the second time, I went to the fridge, got out the bowl full of milk that I had saved from earlier, and filled it with even more Crunch Berries. I had enough milk to go a few rounds.
Edison has thus far been quite a fun four-year-old. Peter has been a challenging two-year-old. Eddie and Peter together have been a challenge, too. Peter often seems in a sour mood, and I frequently feel like my attempts at being friendly to him are met with sneering resistance. That can be alternately heartbreaking and frustrating. He’s just picky about everything, which is especially hard when he has no idea what he really wants. If he does know what he wants, there’s no room for error. The most common example of this is that you must call him by whatever name he is currently interested in being called. If he’s pretending to be a firefighter or a kitty, you cannot get away with calling him “Peter.” You must say “firefighter” or “kitty.” That’s fairly normal, I suppose, but even when he’s not pretending to be something else, you are limited in what you can say. If I walk into the room and say, “Hey, buddy!” I will quickly be reprimanded. “No. I’m Peter!” Even something like “Peter boy” won’t fly.
As for Creegan, he and I are getting better acquainted. Last night was the first time I felt him kick. I felt him kick quite a few times, too, which is really fun. This is an exciting stage in the pregnancy. I’m looking forward to being more interactive with the little guy. Ask me how I feel six months from now when my already sleep-deficient schedule is completely screwed up! LOMFRAFOLAOL!! ;)