Would you like that version? Or the version in which my child has alternated between reaching up to me for hugs and kisses, telling me "I love you so much, Mommy," to screeching, "It's not fair!!! You NEVER let me do anything fun!!!!!!" to giggling merrily with his friends one minute only to be whining and shoving them the next? (Note: this would be the version the one bearing an exact resemblance to the truth). While I'm obviously dealing with the random bouts of Crazychilditis he seems to be displaying (which I get is likely exacerbated bc of the move and the starting kindergarten & the sense that his entire world is changing in the course of two or three week's time), I'm trying really hard to focus on the Super! Happy! Fun! times.
And what can be more super and fun and happy than discovering that your child has inherited the genes that leap-frogged right over your generation, from your mother to your child, and lo & behold--he LOVES cleaning. Not cleaning up his toys, mind you, or any other mess that undeniably belongs to him. No, the mere suggestion that perhaps he might think about cleaning up a toy or two elicits all kinds of excuses and pathetic flailing, and ends in threats of toys being thrown away if they aren't picked up & wails of "that's so not faaaaaiiiiiirrr!!"
But this weekend, as I was washing the sliding glass doors on our back porch, Ethan was magically transformed into some sort of pint-sized Merry Maid and he simply HAD to help me. Help? Cleaning the house? And washing windows to boot? OKAY!
After we finished the sliding glass doors (I did the top part he couldn't reach & he did the bottom part), he asked if I had any more windows he could wash. Sweet fancy Moses, do I ever!!!
I know you can't really see his face, what with the solar glare coming off of that spanking clean window!!!! That I didn't have to wash!!! Score!!!
When he finished the windows (in my defense, I only let him do a few that were easily reached--its not like I sent him up on the ladder to get the tricky ones), he asked if there was anything else he could clean. Um. Why yes, yes there is, little man. I directed him to his bathroom and showed him how to spray the cleaner in the tub/shower(it's green--as in non-toxic, not the color) and wipe it all down with the sponge. I'd post pictures of that, too, but he decided to strip down to his underwear for that particular chore. And I'll definitely end up going over that tub again before we vacate the property, since he repeatedly cleaned the same 10 tiles of the tub over and over again. But still--those 10 tiles shine like the top of the Chrysler building!
Then on Monday, we went to the Oakland zoo with friends. We saw this guy there:
I have never watched a giraffe get down on all four knees before--holy cats, is that hilarious! They are the gangliest, most awkward creatures ever. It was like watching that clip of the super model walking down the catwalk in those ridiculous platforms and face planting right into the crowd. Made me almost happy to be short and stalky. They are so graceful as they glide around, reaching up to pull leaves off the trees. Then one tries to take a load off and suddenly they are the goofiest creatures on earth.
We also saw these guys...
I know it's hard to see, but that is two meerkats, sleeping and snuggling. Oh my word, how cute is that???!!! And I looked closely, I promise they are sleeping, not having crazy wild meerkat sex.
Speaking of sleeping, we came home to this...
Lazy, good for nothing cats didn't manage to clean OR pack a thing while we were gone. Echo was not at all pleased when I woke him up from his nap by snapping this picture. I'd feel badly, but A.) I'm assuming he slept the entire time we were gone and B.) how hilarious is that?! This is his regular "damn, it's hot!!!" sleeping pose. I take a picture of him every time I see him like this because it never fails to make me laugh. Yes, I realize I am one husband and child away from being a crazy cat hoarder lady. I know.
Speaking of the packing....
Crash is apparently supervising. I find him every day on some box or another, as close to the ceiling as he can get, testing out the sturdiness of each box's packing job. So far he's not fallen into any of them, so well done, tape!
Holy crap, that's a lot of boxes, Mom!!!! Please note the farmer's tan and the Build-a-Bear shirt that Ethan did not believe would be too small for him until he tried to put it on himself. Also note the boxes. They are in every room of the house, stacked high & deep. Ahhh, isn't moving grand?
In the evenings, to get away from the piles of packed boxes, and the stacks of empty boxes and the packing paper and the bubble wrap, we go to the park. Where we ride bikes, climb on giant pillars and insist on being pushed in the baby swings....
hey buddy, I know a giraffe you might be related to...
And the Strider bike that we got Ethan to prepare him for balancing on his big boy bike without training wheels. The drawback? He loves this thing so much, he refuses to try to ride his big boy bike at all. I fear he will completely lose the ability to pedal. Sigh.