Monday, July 20, 2009

Happy 47 months, Connor!

Dear Connor,

Oh dear am I late this month. You see, we went on vacation, which resulted in me staying up late every night before vacation to get work done and then returning from vacation only to stay up late every night to get work done. It doesn't seem like much of a vacation if I have to work all the hours anyway. So that, my friend, is this month's excuse for such a late note.

This month, you were mostly a joy, and then you were less awesome when you decided that all rules in the house should favor bigger people over smaller people, essentially meaning that Helen always got the short end of the stick. What you fail to understand is that even if I did not love your sister (which I do), I would never go with rules that favored tall over small because often, I am the smallest person. Sorry dude, you're stuck with your sister, and you have to be nice, and I'm not bending on this one. Ever.

You remembered you owned an ATM machine, a present from one of your nannies (a thorougly inappropriate present, I might add), and proceeded to drive me completely insane. Really? It's fun to just push quarters into it endlessly and hear that annoying beep? Every time I put it back away on a high shelf so you wouldn't see it, you asked for it again. Sometimes, with this really sad "Mommy, I'm very sad because I think my ATM machine got lost, even though I put it away when I was done playing with it". So out it would come again. It's saving grace is that one morning when you woke up, you were content to play with it for a good 20 minutes letting your dad and I sleep in. That was nice. Nice enough that I think your dad is seriously considering lifting the TV ban, but that's not going to happen anytime soon. While you continue to wake regularly at 6:30, your sister has become the chief imitator of Sleeping Beauty in the house.

You made your dad and I burst out laughing when we were in the car one day and Helen was babbling about something. You apparently were tired of the line of conversation she was pursuing, so you shouted "Helen, do you see that rabbit", which worked exactly as you wanted it to. It distracted Helen into looking out her window for the rabbit, and losing her train of thought. It was nice work, I have to admit. Just like everyone else in the household, you know that Helen LOVES rabbits.

You also showed an alarming amount of compassion one day when we were with your friend. You had plucked three petals from a magnolia flower on a tree at the park (which you do not get kudos for as I has asked you to stop destroying the tree a few minutes earlier). Your friend wanted them, but you wouldn't give them to her. Eventually, she took them from your hands and tore them up. You were pretty upset by this and asked why she would do that. I told you that maybe [friend] was having a bad day. As it happens, we were on our way home, so you hopped in the car with the promise that we would find more flower petals when we got home. On the way home you said "I think [friend] tore up my flower petals because I didn't share with her the first time she asked. Next time, I will pick three flower petals: one for me, one for Helen, and one for [frined]." I thought you were showing sensitivity beyond your tender years to come up with this explanation, and was really impressed by the problem solving skills you displayed. Of course, the next words out of your mouth were "But if [friend] tears hers up, I will not give her mine to destroy." And, I suppose that's fair, if not the most gracious sentiment in the world.

You have announced on more than one occasion "I do NOT like to be told what to do!" and your father responded rather quickly "then you'll have to start making better decisions". Let's just say, you're still being told what to do, though I think everyone appreciates the sentiment.

You have taken to calling me Elaine rather regularly, which I think is completely funny. Your sister actually started it, but you seem to enjoy following suit. It makes me laugh every time.

We went on vacation with your dad's family (separate post coming on that), but I must say, you LOVE the beach. Love it. You ask to live there regularly. I'm not sure there was ever a day you were ready to leave. You even enjoyed getting socked in the face with salt water and begged to go out even deeper. It was a really fun time.


1 comment:

  1. I love the photo of him running out of the beach. It really captures the feeling.