My sister-in-law plays this awesome game with her three kids at the dinner table every night. Each person shares something good and not so good about their day. Favourite, least favourite, that kind of thing.
I think it’s genius, and being that I don’t journal anymore, might be a nice way of keeping track of those moments that slip so easily through your fingers when your kids are growing up so fast.
This week has been pretty darn good, and pretty darn not so.
Let’s start with the good.
My boy learned some of the actions to Itsy-Bitsy Spider this week. He requests it repeatedly by running up to me and holding his “spider” up to my face then making the baby-sign for “more”. Pretty much the cutest thing ever. He only wants to sing to his favourite part – washed the spider out – which involves lots of frantic flailing, and then wants to start over again.
I happily oblige him over and over again. It is childhood bliss incarnate.
He discovered how to drink from the hose, and that the hose + garden soil = mud. Also good.
We baked muffins together for the first time ever. He stood a chair at the kitchen table and stirred like a champ. Barely even made a mess. Dumped the ingredients in with squeals of pleasure. Proud as punch. Has happily devoured the fruits of his labour all week. Very good.
He has learned how to pick ripe strawberries for himself. I found him lying flat on his belly on the sidewalk, peering under the leaves for loot. He completely pillaged my patch, a strawberry stain from head to toe. Good.
Not so. Got his very first bee-sting. Mama didn’t know if he would be allergic or not. I momentarily envisioned myself running with him the block and a half to the fire hall for an Epi-pen. So many tears and such confusion on his part.
Thankfully, a panicked call to Nana, a slice of onion and some baking soda and he was right as rain. Good.
Not two hours later, he slammed his head into the kitchen table for the 10 millionth time, this time earning himself a huge bloody gash. (Ok, maybe huge is an exaggeration, but to a young Mama’s eyes, blood was blood!) Not so.
House is still on the market. Day 25? I’ve lost count of the open houses . . . 10? 15? Continuing to keep a house show-ready with a one year old is rapidly wearing me down. That one goes squarely in the not so pile.
The cat seems to know we’re trying to sell our house and is choosing new and creative places to barf and pee. I keep trying to sell her on the benefits of the barn cat lifestyle, but maybe she’s an alley cat girl at heart . . . I finally got the rug clean when the boy dumped the entire bucked of dirty water . . . everywhere. Ya. Not so.