It's going to rain tonight. I could have told you that even without looking at the forecast, because James and I are going to camp out in the backyard. But I looked at the forecast too, and my weather app says it's going to rain. J says camping out isn't a great idea.
Actually, my weather app says there's a 40% chance of rain. I'm willing to take that bet, so we're going to set up the tent once we get back tonight. If Pax were coming over, then the rain would be a sure thing. I saw Abby today briefly and she was in the throes of cutting teeth, so he might actually prefer sleeping out in the rain with James and me to getting up with a fevery one year old all night.
I'm sure George and Steven will be coming, and I told James that we were each going to bring an enormous stack of books out to the tent. I told him that we'd set up the lantern, and then we would stay up late reading together. I'm hoping that this means he'll read his books and I'll read mine, but I'd guess that there's a greater than 40% chance that he's interpreting that promise to mean, "Daddy will read my books out loud to me while George and Steven sit on his pile of books."
I've felt sort of trapped indoors for the past few days, because our neighbors moved out and the owner of the house has been gutting the place ever since. They've hauled away countless loads of scrap, two dumpsters worth of trash, and a dump truck worth of brush and bushes. It's nearly been enough to persuade me never to attempt landlording.
It will be good for James and I to spend the night out in the tent. I think he's a little less happy, overall, when I'm home for extended periods of time. I don't exactly know why, but there's something about having both parents in the house that bothers him.
It doesn't bother Owen at all. Owen laughs uproariously whenever anyone looks at him, so two adults means twice the fun. He's working on some teeth as well, but mostly he's just being sweet and trying to outgrow the perfect age. (The perfect age is when the baby is big enough to sit up safely on their own, but not big enough to crawl away and get into trouble.)
J is also doing well, aside from experiencing foreboding that her husband and three-year old are going to come trudging into the house cold and soaked at one in the morning. (Really, there's only a 40% chance of this.) She just bought some new summery clothes, so every time she comes around a corner she lights up the room in a new, completely unfaded, summery color. We're in the middle of a heated battle about taking her passport photo, and it's hard to stay angry at her when she looks so nice. I've had our passport applications completed for over two weeks, and all that remains to do is to take a photo of her according to the government guidelines (here, if you were curious) and to print out a 2X2. I put "photoshoot" on my to-do list two weeks ago, and she declined every time I offered to take her picture with my super-expensive, high-priced iPhone camera. Then I planned a whole evening around the theme of a photoshoot, which she brushed off. Then I started downright nagging her. Recently we've started giving James some daily chores in the form of post it notes on a chart that reads "James' Jobs." Today one of James' Jobs was to bug Mommy about getting her photo taken. She still got off to work before I was able to snap her picture. I'll get it eventually though. Well, maybe.
I'd say I have at least a 40% chance.
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Friday, September 5, 2014
Hot September Day
I.
We sure are thankful for our air conditioning. We don't have a great unit--it's mounted in the wall and doesn't really cool anything down except for the living room, but it is SO nice to have a cool room when you're up on the second floor on a 90 degree day. We never had air conditioning on Washington Street except in James' room.
This morning we've been camped out directly beneath the unit except for our hour of errand running, at which point we were all very thankful to have two cars with functional air conditioning. We had to go sign more papers at the mortgage broker's, and James met a 15 month old bulldog named Albert who was deeply curious of George. James and George still both smell like Albert. We dropped off books at the library, visited the bank, and then were back home in front of the a/c again before too long. It's a good day to read Go Dog Go and build train tracks while sipping fruit smoothies. (Or beer.)
II.
Currently reading The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise. (Susan is an editor for Books and Culture) It's always encouraging to find a book at the library, thumb to the bibliography, and see a list of books and articles that match exactly your opinion of the best sources of a subject. This book is a guide to homeschooling using a classical education curriculum. The book so far has passed the litmus tests of technology (no) and the purpose of Latin instruction (the grammar, not spoken fluency) with flying colors and is laying out a useful structure for the trivium. I think we'll probably end up buying our own copy of this book. (Not to mention lots of the resources listed inside...yikes, that could be expensive.)
Also working on Niall Ferguson's The Ascent of Money. I'm trying to stitch together some coherent narrative in the history of finance while keeping a dictionary of terms laid open on the end table. Currently reading about the Rothschild family. (I've only ever known the name as the butt of obscure jokes.)
III.
The Christ-hymn in Philippians 2 is on the lectionary for the end of the month, and I can't find any good choral anthems on the text. (Recommendations, anyone?) I think what I'm going to do is steal the 1st verse of the hymn May the Mind of Christ My Savior and then paraphrase the rest of the text into four verses. Here's what I have so far
1. May the mind of Christ my Savior
Live in me from day to day
By his love and power controlling
All I do and say
2. He in form divine considered
Pow'r not seizing, but obeyed,
And a servant, self he emptied
And was humble made
3. God him now has high exalted
Name above all names is giv'n
Every knee will bow before him
in God's world and heav'n
4. All the Lord will then confess him
To the father glory give
May we share Christ's mind together
As we serve and live
UPDATE
Apparently reading a pessimistic account of international finance which assumes your already too small personal worth is probably in serious danger while simultaneously reading about an imminent thirteen year-long project for which you've made no preparations which will likely take up massive amounts of your time and money causes you to walk around all day grinding your teeth and looking gloomy. Apologies to all parties involved. Probably some of it is the heat.
We sure are thankful for our air conditioning. We don't have a great unit--it's mounted in the wall and doesn't really cool anything down except for the living room, but it is SO nice to have a cool room when you're up on the second floor on a 90 degree day. We never had air conditioning on Washington Street except in James' room.
This morning we've been camped out directly beneath the unit except for our hour of errand running, at which point we were all very thankful to have two cars with functional air conditioning. We had to go sign more papers at the mortgage broker's, and James met a 15 month old bulldog named Albert who was deeply curious of George. James and George still both smell like Albert. We dropped off books at the library, visited the bank, and then were back home in front of the a/c again before too long. It's a good day to read Go Dog Go and build train tracks while sipping fruit smoothies. (Or beer.)
II.
Currently reading The Well Trained Mind by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise. (Susan is an editor for Books and Culture) It's always encouraging to find a book at the library, thumb to the bibliography, and see a list of books and articles that match exactly your opinion of the best sources of a subject. This book is a guide to homeschooling using a classical education curriculum. The book so far has passed the litmus tests of technology (no) and the purpose of Latin instruction (the grammar, not spoken fluency) with flying colors and is laying out a useful structure for the trivium. I think we'll probably end up buying our own copy of this book. (Not to mention lots of the resources listed inside...yikes, that could be expensive.)
Also working on Niall Ferguson's The Ascent of Money. I'm trying to stitch together some coherent narrative in the history of finance while keeping a dictionary of terms laid open on the end table. Currently reading about the Rothschild family. (I've only ever known the name as the butt of obscure jokes.)
III.
The Christ-hymn in Philippians 2 is on the lectionary for the end of the month, and I can't find any good choral anthems on the text. (Recommendations, anyone?) I think what I'm going to do is steal the 1st verse of the hymn May the Mind of Christ My Savior and then paraphrase the rest of the text into four verses. Here's what I have so far
1. May the mind of Christ my Savior
Live in me from day to day
By his love and power controlling
All I do and say
2. He in form divine considered
Pow'r not seizing, but obeyed,
And a servant, self he emptied
And was humble made
3. God him now has high exalted
Name above all names is giv'n
Every knee will bow before him
in God's world and heav'n
4. All the Lord will then confess him
To the father glory give
May we share Christ's mind together
As we serve and live
UPDATE
Apparently reading a pessimistic account of international finance which assumes your already too small personal worth is probably in serious danger while simultaneously reading about an imminent thirteen year-long project for which you've made no preparations which will likely take up massive amounts of your time and money causes you to walk around all day grinding your teeth and looking gloomy. Apologies to all parties involved. Probably some of it is the heat.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Triptych
Sunday Morning
I am sitting in a Japanese restaurant at the UB campus. I'm in a funny shaped red plastic chair, all alone except for the chef and the cashier. There is a lake no more than 20 feet outside the window, and a rabbit is nosing in and out of a bush in front of me. I decided not to get sushi, but I'm eating rice, egg, and a teriyaki beef. It looks like it might rain soon.
I played a rehearsal at 10 AM of horrible contemporary music. There was no tune, and my part was an assortment of odd and angry sounding notes that added nothing but an ever-decreasing shock to the already confused listener. Once rehearsal was over I packed my trumpets away and walked down to the student union looking for something to eat. Being a Sunday morning and mid-June, everything was closed except this one Japanese restaurant. It's the first time I've missed church since January. I think there might be a Korean service in one of the classrooms above me, but I choose to pick at my rice and read my book. The book is called The End of Poverty, and its about world peace and aid to third world countries.
I realize I've become a hippie.
Monday Evening
J is lying on the couch and hardly conscious. It was a typical day with James, which means that he was sweet and angelic for five minute intervals and then either in a raging tantrum or asking incessant questions to which he already knew the answer. A half an hour ago we loaded the dishwasher to the brim and abandoned the stack of dishes that was still left in the sink. We packed away the macaroni and cheese that James refused to eat, and then set to work on picking up the toys that he'd scattered all over the house. There are blocks under the couch, toy cars in the closet, and two stuffed animals on the floor. I take them into his room and put them in his bed.
Now she lying on the couch and trying to summon the energy for a conversation with me. I'm stretched out on the floor below her with my head resting on one arm and the other arm draped over one of her long bare legs. The sun is starting to go down, and one of us should get up to close the blinds. She mentions how nice it would be to have a glass of wine tonight. We'll know the gender of the new baby on Friday.
Sunday Evening
James is climbing trees. I hold him under his arms and he puts his feet against the tree trunk and walks up until I set him up in the branches. Steven and George are lying in the grass below, along with a plastic bin full of rocks. He pushed the box of rocks all the way up the courtyard and all the way back, stopping every 20 feet or so to throw in another rock and then asking me to carry it because it is too heavy.
He grins as he perches up in the tree and points to a high branch. "Daddy, I'ma climb waaay high up there!" I smile back and tell him to go ahead. He giggles and then points to another branch. "Daddy, I'ma climb waaay high up there." I tell him to go ahead again and he asks how Steven is doing. Steven is doing fine. He tells me that he's going to jump out of the tree and that I'll catch him.
"You can jump out of the tree and Daddy will catch you, but you need to tell me when you jump."
Without warning he hurtles out of the tree and I catch him awkwardly against my side. He smiles up again and says: "Daddy, I jumped!"
I am sitting in a Japanese restaurant at the UB campus. I'm in a funny shaped red plastic chair, all alone except for the chef and the cashier. There is a lake no more than 20 feet outside the window, and a rabbit is nosing in and out of a bush in front of me. I decided not to get sushi, but I'm eating rice, egg, and a teriyaki beef. It looks like it might rain soon.
I played a rehearsal at 10 AM of horrible contemporary music. There was no tune, and my part was an assortment of odd and angry sounding notes that added nothing but an ever-decreasing shock to the already confused listener. Once rehearsal was over I packed my trumpets away and walked down to the student union looking for something to eat. Being a Sunday morning and mid-June, everything was closed except this one Japanese restaurant. It's the first time I've missed church since January. I think there might be a Korean service in one of the classrooms above me, but I choose to pick at my rice and read my book. The book is called The End of Poverty, and its about world peace and aid to third world countries.
I realize I've become a hippie.
Monday Evening
J is lying on the couch and hardly conscious. It was a typical day with James, which means that he was sweet and angelic for five minute intervals and then either in a raging tantrum or asking incessant questions to which he already knew the answer. A half an hour ago we loaded the dishwasher to the brim and abandoned the stack of dishes that was still left in the sink. We packed away the macaroni and cheese that James refused to eat, and then set to work on picking up the toys that he'd scattered all over the house. There are blocks under the couch, toy cars in the closet, and two stuffed animals on the floor. I take them into his room and put them in his bed.
Now she lying on the couch and trying to summon the energy for a conversation with me. I'm stretched out on the floor below her with my head resting on one arm and the other arm draped over one of her long bare legs. The sun is starting to go down, and one of us should get up to close the blinds. She mentions how nice it would be to have a glass of wine tonight. We'll know the gender of the new baby on Friday.
Sunday Evening
James is climbing trees. I hold him under his arms and he puts his feet against the tree trunk and walks up until I set him up in the branches. Steven and George are lying in the grass below, along with a plastic bin full of rocks. He pushed the box of rocks all the way up the courtyard and all the way back, stopping every 20 feet or so to throw in another rock and then asking me to carry it because it is too heavy.
He grins as he perches up in the tree and points to a high branch. "Daddy, I'ma climb waaay high up there!" I smile back and tell him to go ahead. He giggles and then points to another branch. "Daddy, I'ma climb waaay high up there." I tell him to go ahead again and he asks how Steven is doing. Steven is doing fine. He tells me that he's going to jump out of the tree and that I'll catch him.
"You can jump out of the tree and Daddy will catch you, but you need to tell me when you jump."
Without warning he hurtles out of the tree and I catch him awkwardly against my side. He smiles up again and says: "Daddy, I jumped!"
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Into Summer
It's warm out every day now, and the Smith family of Clover Park Drive is preparing for summer. My first full season with Symphoria wrapped up, and I've been offered the job for another year. There was a big Beethoven 9 show in April, and for the first time all season I walked from the parking garage to the hall in sunny/pleasant weather. All year long that walk had been through whipping winds and slush and brown snow mountains. I hardly knew what to think as we walked through a beautiful downtown Syracuse. There was a "highbrow" movie show after that, and then a much more enjoyable "lowbrow" movie music pops show.
The first week after the end of Symphoria was gloriously blank, but BPO called as I was wrapping up the pops concerts with an offer to play one of their pops shows. And then a donor concert. And then a classics week. And then the contemporary music week. And that's how my "low-key" June turned into working in Buffalo all month. But that's been great--there's a lot of money coming in, and both new cars have been (knock-knock) free from trouble. I continue to spend lots of quality time with I-90.
J is beginning to show a bit of baby bump. She's very cute. It's been encouraging to see everyone's reaction to the news, and I know that she loves being pregnant. She's more keen on an afternoon nap nowadays, but otherwise she's keeping up the same pace to her days. She teaches at a local Christian school on Wednesday mornings, Hochstein on Wednesday nights, and then does church work from Thursday through Sunday. She played a quintet recital last week, and James sat through the whole thing without a peep. Just as we've got the one child trained to attend concerts, we're going to need to break in another!
James lives for the spish-spish. He wants to be outside all the time, and his favorite place to be is roaming up and down the near side of the automated car wash. At this point most of the employees--college aged boys in bow-ties, starched blue shirts, and sneakers--know him by name and wave to him. He mashes his face up against the windows and they'll occasionally spray at him with a hose. Once he watches the attendants hose off the car he dashes to the next window to watch it get soaped, then to the next window to watch the automatic dryer kick on, and then to the exit to watch the car drive out dripping and "all clean."
It's hot in our apartment most of the time, up on the second floor, and that's just fine so far. I practice in shorts and an undershirt, and slip on flip flops to take laundry or trash down to the basement. Adulthood is starting to get a bit easier. I say this with great caution and humility, but I think that now more often than not my laundry is done, my living quarters are clean, and the urgent items on my desk are taken care of.
There's still a lot up in the air, of course. We don't know where we'll live next fall, or where I'll work the fall after that. We don't know if we're in upstate New York to stay, or just until the next audition. But we have lots of good food in the fridge, two working vehicles, a little boy who chatters our ear off, and three potted plants on the table. We have the greatest supermarket in the world down the street, a perfectly manicured courtyard lawn, and three big trees outside the window. We have temperatures in the 70s and the 80s for the next week, and a chance to be out in it as a family. Summer is here, and it is good.
The first week after the end of Symphoria was gloriously blank, but BPO called as I was wrapping up the pops concerts with an offer to play one of their pops shows. And then a donor concert. And then a classics week. And then the contemporary music week. And that's how my "low-key" June turned into working in Buffalo all month. But that's been great--there's a lot of money coming in, and both new cars have been (knock-knock) free from trouble. I continue to spend lots of quality time with I-90.
J is beginning to show a bit of baby bump. She's very cute. It's been encouraging to see everyone's reaction to the news, and I know that she loves being pregnant. She's more keen on an afternoon nap nowadays, but otherwise she's keeping up the same pace to her days. She teaches at a local Christian school on Wednesday mornings, Hochstein on Wednesday nights, and then does church work from Thursday through Sunday. She played a quintet recital last week, and James sat through the whole thing without a peep. Just as we've got the one child trained to attend concerts, we're going to need to break in another!
James lives for the spish-spish. He wants to be outside all the time, and his favorite place to be is roaming up and down the near side of the automated car wash. At this point most of the employees--college aged boys in bow-ties, starched blue shirts, and sneakers--know him by name and wave to him. He mashes his face up against the windows and they'll occasionally spray at him with a hose. Once he watches the attendants hose off the car he dashes to the next window to watch it get soaped, then to the next window to watch the automatic dryer kick on, and then to the exit to watch the car drive out dripping and "all clean."
It's hot in our apartment most of the time, up on the second floor, and that's just fine so far. I practice in shorts and an undershirt, and slip on flip flops to take laundry or trash down to the basement. Adulthood is starting to get a bit easier. I say this with great caution and humility, but I think that now more often than not my laundry is done, my living quarters are clean, and the urgent items on my desk are taken care of.
There's still a lot up in the air, of course. We don't know where we'll live next fall, or where I'll work the fall after that. We don't know if we're in upstate New York to stay, or just until the next audition. But we have lots of good food in the fridge, two working vehicles, a little boy who chatters our ear off, and three potted plants on the table. We have the greatest supermarket in the world down the street, a perfectly manicured courtyard lawn, and three big trees outside the window. We have temperatures in the 70s and the 80s for the next week, and a chance to be out in it as a family. Summer is here, and it is good.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Parental Preference
James is not happy with me.
Yesterday was my first morning back at LCS. I'll only be there Mondays and Wednesdays this year because of Symphoria, but yesterday we had staff training. I was up and out the door before James woke up, and I didn't get back until 4:00. This was a big change from our regular summer hours.
It's important to note how much James loved the summer schedule. He was so excited in June when I was there every morning to get him up that J began to feel a bit boxed out. I'd get him up from his crib at 7:30 or 8 in the morning, and he'd be bouncing with excitement when I came into the room. Picking him up, I'd ask "should we go wake up Mommy?" He'd shake his head no, because it was Daddy PLAYTIME! We'd go downstairs and eat breakfast together. James would have a banana before he climbed up on my lap to steal my spoon and work on my cereal with me, spreading it all over his front, the table, and the floor. Daddy found this funny. Mommy did not. Then we'd go play with toys, including some toys that weren't in regular use during the school year, like the broom, the jumper cables, and walls. (Where else can you bounce a ball?)
There were some heartfelt talks with J. Far be it from me to put words into my wife's mouth, but most of the conversations, if I had to summarize, went something like this:
J: blah blah blah, blah blah-blah blah, having fun is against all my Mommy rules and you and James are evil rule-breakers.
Me: I wish to be respectful of your feelings, and I sense that you are upset about something. It must be hard on you for your well-planned parenting structures to be altered by my constant presence. Please tell me about what's on your mind while I finish washing these dishes and put them away neatly in their proper places.
J: (sobbing uncontrollably to sad music) James doesn't love me anymore since you came home from school!
Me: (giving a tender hug)There there, why don't you use this time to relax and think about your hopes and dreams whilst I prepare dinner.
J: You're so wise and handsome, and it turns out that all of the new games you taught James are safe and age-appropriate! Make sweet love to me far into the wee hours of the morning!
That was "more or less" how the conversation went, and we came to find a new balance for most of the summer. James and I played a lot together, and we had a wonderful few months while I was hardly ever going in to work.
J told me that when she got James up yesterday morning he immediately pointed to his bedroom door, and when asked what he wanted said "Da-da." She brought him downstairs, and he set about looking for me in the living room, and the kitchen. I wasn't there, of course, nor was I in the laundry room or upstairs in the bathroom.
I arrived home at 4:00 just as he was getting up from his afternoon nap. I heard J asking him "Do you know who is home? Do you know who is here?" I stepped up to him and she said "Daddy is here!" in an excited voice.
He didn't react at all.
"Would you like Daddy to change your diaper?"
He shook his head no.
"Would you like to say hello to Daddy?"
He shook his head again and snuggled her shoulder.
I made an attempt: "James, I missed you today! I'm sorry I didn't get to see you before I had to leave."
He snuggled Mommy again.
J changed his diaper, and he didn't even deign to look at me until we went downstairs. He had been betrayed. When I gave him a bath that night he engaged in active protest. Bathtime is probably our most redneck time of the day. The stopper in our bathtub is broken, so there's no way to seal the water in the tub except by covering the drain with a thick piece of duct tape. James is very good about knowing he can't touch the duct tape, but tonight he ripped it off the drain as soon as I looked away. I chided him and tore off another piece, knowing it would be much harder to get it to stay since the bottom of the tub was wet. I managed to get a seal, but James tore it off again.
"Listen, squirt...you're going to take a bath with no water if you keep on ripping the tape off? Got it?"
He grinned and nodded.
I put on another piece of tape and started to fill the tub again.
Rriiiiippppppp.
And that's how James ended up being soaped up with no water in the tub, and then unceremoniously hosed off under the tap.
He softened up to me by the end of the evening, and he let me brush his teeth and do bedtime prayers with him. We prayed for all our family and said "Help me to be loving." And then, "thank you that Daddy has a job to go to, and help James and Daddy to find good playtime once he gets home."
Yesterday was my first morning back at LCS. I'll only be there Mondays and Wednesdays this year because of Symphoria, but yesterday we had staff training. I was up and out the door before James woke up, and I didn't get back until 4:00. This was a big change from our regular summer hours.
It's important to note how much James loved the summer schedule. He was so excited in June when I was there every morning to get him up that J began to feel a bit boxed out. I'd get him up from his crib at 7:30 or 8 in the morning, and he'd be bouncing with excitement when I came into the room. Picking him up, I'd ask "should we go wake up Mommy?" He'd shake his head no, because it was Daddy PLAYTIME! We'd go downstairs and eat breakfast together. James would have a banana before he climbed up on my lap to steal my spoon and work on my cereal with me, spreading it all over his front, the table, and the floor. Daddy found this funny. Mommy did not. Then we'd go play with toys, including some toys that weren't in regular use during the school year, like the broom, the jumper cables, and walls. (Where else can you bounce a ball?)
There were some heartfelt talks with J. Far be it from me to put words into my wife's mouth, but most of the conversations, if I had to summarize, went something like this:
J: blah blah blah, blah blah-blah blah, having fun is against all my Mommy rules and you and James are evil rule-breakers.
Me: I wish to be respectful of your feelings, and I sense that you are upset about something. It must be hard on you for your well-planned parenting structures to be altered by my constant presence. Please tell me about what's on your mind while I finish washing these dishes and put them away neatly in their proper places.
J: (sobbing uncontrollably to sad music) James doesn't love me anymore since you came home from school!
Me: (giving a tender hug)There there, why don't you use this time to relax and think about your hopes and dreams whilst I prepare dinner.
J: You're so wise and handsome, and it turns out that all of the new games you taught James are safe and age-appropriate! Make sweet love to me far into the wee hours of the morning!
That was "more or less" how the conversation went, and we came to find a new balance for most of the summer. James and I played a lot together, and we had a wonderful few months while I was hardly ever going in to work.
J told me that when she got James up yesterday morning he immediately pointed to his bedroom door, and when asked what he wanted said "Da-da." She brought him downstairs, and he set about looking for me in the living room, and the kitchen. I wasn't there, of course, nor was I in the laundry room or upstairs in the bathroom.
I arrived home at 4:00 just as he was getting up from his afternoon nap. I heard J asking him "Do you know who is home? Do you know who is here?" I stepped up to him and she said "Daddy is here!" in an excited voice.
He didn't react at all.
"Would you like Daddy to change your diaper?"
He shook his head no.
"Would you like to say hello to Daddy?"
He shook his head again and snuggled her shoulder.
I made an attempt: "James, I missed you today! I'm sorry I didn't get to see you before I had to leave."
He snuggled Mommy again.
J changed his diaper, and he didn't even deign to look at me until we went downstairs. He had been betrayed. When I gave him a bath that night he engaged in active protest. Bathtime is probably our most redneck time of the day. The stopper in our bathtub is broken, so there's no way to seal the water in the tub except by covering the drain with a thick piece of duct tape. James is very good about knowing he can't touch the duct tape, but tonight he ripped it off the drain as soon as I looked away. I chided him and tore off another piece, knowing it would be much harder to get it to stay since the bottom of the tub was wet. I managed to get a seal, but James tore it off again.
"Listen, squirt...you're going to take a bath with no water if you keep on ripping the tape off? Got it?"
He grinned and nodded.
I put on another piece of tape and started to fill the tub again.
Rriiiiippppppp.
And that's how James ended up being soaped up with no water in the tub, and then unceremoniously hosed off under the tap.
He softened up to me by the end of the evening, and he let me brush his teeth and do bedtime prayers with him. We prayed for all our family and said "Help me to be loving." And then, "thank you that Daddy has a job to go to, and help James and Daddy to find good playtime once he gets home."
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