The kids were off all this week which is generally just cruel. They spent three days and two nights at Camp Grandma which was hugely fun for everyone (except maybe Grandma, I can't speak for her. But the kids and Rob and I were very grateful.) They also spent the majority of one day at a friend's house which really left them with one whole day at home. Still? Exhausted.
Some days, I think maybe we should just turn on the TV. But then we'd have to deal with the TV being on. Blah.
So anyhow, we've had a guinea pig in our care all week which has been mostly a non-issue. She should go back to her regularly schedule program of being a class pet tomorrow. The first night we found our fat lazy cat perched next to the cage but I don't think the dog or cat has even glanced at her since the first day.
Today we went back to Camp Grandma for a belated birthday dinner for me and Rob. August fell asleep just before it was time to leave so I stayed home with him for an extra hour while Rob took the big kids over to get in some playtime with their cousins. He woke up in a terrible awful mood and refused to let it go. He kept turning his back on me and wailing; pushing me away when I tried to pick him up or give him a hug. I finally got him calmed down and headed for the car where he noticed his bike (this trike which I can not recommend highly enough). Oh, how he loves his bike. "Bah-EE? Bah-EE!? Bah-EE!?!" he wailed; ramping up to the big one.
I buckled him into the carseat and dropped his bike in next to him so he could hold one handlebar for the entire drive. We parked in the driveway and before I even began unbuckling him he was reminding me of the bike. He refused to release his grip on the handlebar, which made getting him out of the carseat tricky. He demanded we carry it up to the house where he proceeded to insist on riding it. He was whipping around the basement within moments.
Coming home was the same battle--the bike within holding range; wailing fits if we had to leave it behind for even a second. Once home I dropped it on the garage floor and he mounted it and took off. I chased him down and speed-walked behind him around the block. Twice. As he started into his third lap (after being told to go put the bike away and him faking me out and then swerving across the yard and onto the sidewalk yet again) I quietly cursed Rob's bike genes.
I finally carried him and the bike into the garage and dropped the bike into a corner. He wailed and wailed, standing at the door in tears: "Bah-ee! bah-ee....." It seems he's finally settled on a "lovey." A seven pound, steel framed lovey complete with streamers and a bell. Heaven help us if he starts demanding to sleep with it.