It's 7:47 pm and--wonder of wonders--someone is in bed. Asleep. And it's not me, snoring away next to a wide-awake four-year-old, as it's been the past two nights. Gotta tell you, not good for the household harmony, that one. But we're on an upswing around here; got some super-cute photos of you-know-who from school. One shows him carrying a sign for the Martin Luther King Day march, which seemed to involve a tangle of four-year-olds on the sidewalk outside the school. The other was of Isaac and two school-friends playing Cariboo, which I have to say is THE BEST GAME EVER.
And reports from school are encouraging. A couple of tidbits: "Isaac's use of language has increased and often blows me away. He's been adding comments into conversations at the lunch and afternoon snack table" and my personal favorite: "Isaac has been interacting with his peers more often."
He's also still on the word-play kick. Tonight, he wanted to "ho to heep with Haddy"--a good thing since Hommy tends to pass out like a drunken sailor as soon as she lies down...probably the dregs of the bronchitis, or that bottle of rum I drank in the brig although J. attributes it to too much late-night blogging.
Speaking of which, (sailors and rum, not blogging) I was treated last night to a recitation of a very good portion of a Thomas episode. By Isaac. In his inimitable style. Seems that auditory memory is in fine working order.
And what, really, does he get from Thomas? For those of you with little Thomas groupies, do you ever wonder? A recent favorite around here features Salty, whose sole purpose in life is to say things like "Har, matey!" and tell long, boring stories that make the other engines fall asleep. I do wonder what Isaac is internalizing from this show: will my 21st-century boy grow up with solid, 19th-century values? Will he aspire to be a Very Useful Engine? I'm rambling, clearly, but you gotta wonder if all these little Thomas fanboys will grow up, move to England and become train conductors. Or country vicars.
Okay, enough for one night. Off to spend some time with my much-neglected spouse, who is more patient and sweet than I sometimes deserve (and who is looking over my shoulder as we speak, but in a sweet, not a looming way).
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