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loco parentis
Nov. 9th, 2004 10:56 pm.
With Cathy briefly out, I have been Mr. Daddy by myself. (Literally. Sarah calls me that sometimes.) Sometimes the solo gig gets tiring, but today Sarah was at her best. She needed a little reiteration on Mommy's exact status, but she basically knew that Mommy had flown on an airplane and would be back. A little fuzzy on when, but she's great for two years old.
We went to Target after I picked her up this afternoon, to pick out a better stool to stand on when she brushes her teeth, and the final decision on which one was all hers. She didn't want to ride in the cart, so I told her she'd have to be good and stay close to me, and she was and she did, mostly. I let her pick out a small toy as well, and then we ate in the Taco Bell "Express" inside the Target store, which was a treat for Sarah. It's so special to eat out, especially a hot dog.
We got home just in time for Cathy's phone call, and Sarah told her she'd had another all-star day at school (technical term, but it's as good as it sounds). Sarah and I watched some of her small library of TV shows, an episode of the Tubbies, and after she was dressed for bed, "Bear in the Big Blue House." There's a part where Bear does three or four little snippets of dances -- a jig, a waltz, and so forth -- and Sarah does them all along with him. Baby, I'm amazed.
We brushed our teeth together, and then Sarah took her cup of orange water (this is tap water that is solemnly declared to be orange water -- the first cup I pour always seems to be green water, so I pour it out and refill the cup) into her bedroom, and jumped up and down a while, then we sang songs, and we drew pictures of the ghost that scared her on Halloween and then balled them up and threw them away and told it it had to go someplace else. We also check the doors each night, making our watchman round in tandem. "I no like the ghost," she comments. She asked me to put her little pillow in her bed, which I did, along with the pillow refusing to go where it should and me acting exasperated and Sarah requesting an encore.
Anyway, Sarah was pretty quick to become calm. The last phase of the evening ritual was the two of us sitting quietly in chairs in her room. Usually it's me on the broken recliner, but sometimes she takes that one. It's good that I fit in her tiny chair, though it's not exactly luxurious. We used both configurations tonight, and ended up with her curled up in my arms. "It's time go night night," she announced. In her bed she went, joining her doll and her Tubbies and her regular blanket ("boo-wah") and the magic blanket that protects her against the ghost. She's been perfectly quiet since then, and I've been quietly tapping keys in the den.
.
With Cathy briefly out, I have been Mr. Daddy by myself. (Literally. Sarah calls me that sometimes.) Sometimes the solo gig gets tiring, but today Sarah was at her best. She needed a little reiteration on Mommy's exact status, but she basically knew that Mommy had flown on an airplane and would be back. A little fuzzy on when, but she's great for two years old.
We went to Target after I picked her up this afternoon, to pick out a better stool to stand on when she brushes her teeth, and the final decision on which one was all hers. She didn't want to ride in the cart, so I told her she'd have to be good and stay close to me, and she was and she did, mostly. I let her pick out a small toy as well, and then we ate in the Taco Bell "Express" inside the Target store, which was a treat for Sarah. It's so special to eat out, especially a hot dog.
We got home just in time for Cathy's phone call, and Sarah told her she'd had another all-star day at school (technical term, but it's as good as it sounds). Sarah and I watched some of her small library of TV shows, an episode of the Tubbies, and after she was dressed for bed, "Bear in the Big Blue House." There's a part where Bear does three or four little snippets of dances -- a jig, a waltz, and so forth -- and Sarah does them all along with him. Baby, I'm amazed.
We brushed our teeth together, and then Sarah took her cup of orange water (this is tap water that is solemnly declared to be orange water -- the first cup I pour always seems to be green water, so I pour it out and refill the cup) into her bedroom, and jumped up and down a while, then we sang songs, and we drew pictures of the ghost that scared her on Halloween and then balled them up and threw them away and told it it had to go someplace else. We also check the doors each night, making our watchman round in tandem. "I no like the ghost," she comments. She asked me to put her little pillow in her bed, which I did, along with the pillow refusing to go where it should and me acting exasperated and Sarah requesting an encore.
Anyway, Sarah was pretty quick to become calm. The last phase of the evening ritual was the two of us sitting quietly in chairs in her room. Usually it's me on the broken recliner, but sometimes she takes that one. It's good that I fit in her tiny chair, though it's not exactly luxurious. We used both configurations tonight, and ended up with her curled up in my arms. "It's time go night night," she announced. In her bed she went, joining her doll and her Tubbies and her regular blanket ("boo-wah") and the magic blanket that protects her against the ghost. She's been perfectly quiet since then, and I've been quietly tapping keys in the den.
.
