As Greg said, tonight I won.
Wm's school had its first movie night. Pre-order pizza (proceeds benefit PTA) and watch a movie ("Wreck it Ralph") on the playground. Sounds great, right? Since it's actually getting cold now, we decided two weeks ago that I would stay home with Ian and Greg would take Wm. Patch could decide day of how he was feeling. Wm prefers me staying home anyway, because then he can order peperoni pizza (which I really don't like). Should be a fun father-son night, right?
Except, it's been raining for three days. Which means movie night was moved into the gym. Which, apparently, turned into a madhouse without even room for Greg to put down a blanket. Patch was a bit freaked out by the craziness and wouldn't leave Greg's lap. So, a mere 20 minutes into the movie, Greg texts that he can no longer feel his legs. Despite his strong persuasive powers, boys resist reason and want to stay and watch. I may have to go pick them up in the car, because Greg might just be crippled after two hours of sitting on the floor.
Meanwhile, Ian, who usually shrieks at the top of his lungs between 6:30 and 7, has a totally happy evening, even sitting in his highchair for dinner (usually he refuses to get out of my arms from the minute I'm home, hence the loud shrieking because I keep trying to put him in his chair to eat). He and I chow down on grilled chicken with fresh guacamole and squash soup (no, I did not cook). Yum. We play around for about 15 minutes, then he runs into his room, grabs Spot (his stuffed dog-lamb thing) and lies down on the floor. A bit of a fight over the diaper/clothing change, and 10 seconds of protest after a story, but then silence.
Yup, I won.
Wm's school had its first movie night. Pre-order pizza (proceeds benefit PTA) and watch a movie ("Wreck it Ralph") on the playground. Sounds great, right? Since it's actually getting cold now, we decided two weeks ago that I would stay home with Ian and Greg would take Wm. Patch could decide day of how he was feeling. Wm prefers me staying home anyway, because then he can order peperoni pizza (which I really don't like). Should be a fun father-son night, right?
Except, it's been raining for three days. Which means movie night was moved into the gym. Which, apparently, turned into a madhouse without even room for Greg to put down a blanket. Patch was a bit freaked out by the craziness and wouldn't leave Greg's lap. So, a mere 20 minutes into the movie, Greg texts that he can no longer feel his legs. Despite his strong persuasive powers, boys resist reason and want to stay and watch. I may have to go pick them up in the car, because Greg might just be crippled after two hours of sitting on the floor.
Meanwhile, Ian, who usually shrieks at the top of his lungs between 6:30 and 7, has a totally happy evening, even sitting in his highchair for dinner (usually he refuses to get out of my arms from the minute I'm home, hence the loud shrieking because I keep trying to put him in his chair to eat). He and I chow down on grilled chicken with fresh guacamole and squash soup (no, I did not cook). Yum. We play around for about 15 minutes, then he runs into his room, grabs Spot (his stuffed dog-lamb thing) and lies down on the floor. A bit of a fight over the diaper/clothing change, and 10 seconds of protest after a story, but then silence.
Yup, I won.
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