Small Things 10-7-13
1. 3-year pediatrician’s appointment today.
42 inches tall
40 pounds heavy
“Big. Really big.”
Um, yeah. I know.
That would be the comment from both the aide who led us back, & the nurse who did all the weighing, bp measuring, etc.
Um, yeah. I had noticed.
You know why I like his pediatrician & deal with the rest of the office staff, and their occasional forays into bad practice?
Because the dude is like 6’7″ and never makes inane comments like “Wow, he’s really tall!” to me. Besides being tall himself, he has tall kids (duh) so he knows how annoying it is to have someone talking excitedly about your kid’s bigness (or littleness, or anything else that you & kid have absolutely no control over).
Also, because today he showed Hen the massive scars on his elbow where he broke his elbow when he was four. Back in the pre-pin days. Hen was duly impressed and wondered if it still hurt. The dude might not be as touchy-feely friendly as, say the lady therapists Hen sees & likes, but he knows how to win over a little boy.
2. Speaking of hurt–flu shot. Hen did not like that. I offered to let him come with me to the grocery store to get mine, thinking he might appreciate a little bit of his own back, but there was no way no way no way he wanted anything to do with that. Sweet kid. I was startled at how little it hurt, honestly. Needles no longer hold anyfear for me, but really, I didn’t even know she’d already zapped me. That painless.
But hoping to avoid another flu year like last, where it just dragged me out for weeks.
3. And yeah, I think the nap is on its way out. He’s getting sleepy later, and staying cranky longer after he gets up. Used to be he’d get up from a nap & be very happy. Now he gets up & he’s just whiny til after his bath–which sort of shoots the whole afternoon if we’re going from meltdown to meltdown. So we’ll soon start trying ‘quiet time’ and we’ll see where that gets us. (Quick trip to the loony bin being a distinct possibility).
4. Henry only just recently figured out that other people–like mommy!–have birthdays, too. He’s been offering me all his most prized trucks (and occasionally Real) as birthday gifts when the momentous day arrives, which is oh-so-sweet & oh-so-hilarious at the same time. Truer love hath no person, than a son willing to part with his best beloved excavator to give his mommy a perfect birthday. Seriously cute.
5. He told me very seriously–with quivering lip, even–that when I tell him I don’t have time to play with him, sometimes it hurts his feelings. Since I was doing nothing but reading the news on the computer at the time, I felt like a schmuck and immediately got down on the floor & made vroom vroom noises with him. It was a good reminder that he still takes even very small rejections very personally–as a rejection of his whole self. We had a long talk about how just because Mommy couldn’t–or wouldn’t–play every time he asked, doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be asked, and doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to. Sometimes I have other things that just need to be done. But I also told him I’d try harder to say ‘yes’.
My sensitive little boy. I hope you always want to play trucks with me, and I hope I always at least try to say that I will.