Will, walking into The Living Coast exhibit at Brookfield Zoo this morning.
To be fair, he was merely repeating what my mother said when we all visited the exhibit together last month, but none of the people around us today (who snapped their heads around in surprise) knew that.
The boys and I hit Lincoln Park Zoo this morning - probably our last outing there until Zoo Lights when I’ll be freezing my ass off and regretting the decision to go. Anyway, I wanted to let them burn every ounce of energy in their little bodies and head home for a nap. Naturally, in making our way to 90, we got stuck on North Ave. (I’ll never learn, will I?), and the “OMG, PLEASE DO NOT FALL ASLEEP IN THE CAR FOR 5 MINUTES AND THEN REFUSE TO NAP” fear set in. Moms, you know what I’m talking about. I’ve been known to pinch my children to keep them awake, feed them things I’d otherwise never allow, roll down the windows on the expressway … you get the idea … all to avoid that 5 minute “nap” that ruins everything.
We sat on North Ave, not moving, with a cop next to us (ugh, I can’t even check my phone now?!). A quick look in the backseat, and eyes were dropping. NOOOO! I turned on “Thriller” and engaged in the most epic car dancing/karaoke you’ve ever seen. The boys were bouncing their shoulders, clapping, singing along. We love “Thriller” around here. It perked us all up and passed some time.
I’d kind of forgotten that the sunroof was open and 2 windows were down (hey, it’s 50 degrees, I’m not harming them). When the song and performance ended, the two cops sitting next to us, did a quick horn tap and starting clapping and motioning for me to roll down my window. I did. “Ma’am, that was awesome! Those are some lucky kids. Thanks for making my day.”
Is it possible to simultaneously die of embarrassment and beam with pride?
[Fellow Chicagoans - the light is broken at North/Elston. Avoid Stanley’s like the plague … ain’t no reasonably priced organic produce worth that mess.]
Cooper is still working on speech development (man, is it crazy when your first born was speaking in complex sentences and carrying on full conversations before turning 2 and the second is rarely understood by adults who are not genetically linked).
He has a ton of single words, and he will loosely string them together: “Mama …. book ….. please …” or “Will …. school …. bye bye” but he never really puts two words together fluidly. Until today.
I nearly cried tears of joy at both the fluency and the shared sentiment of wanting a french fry more than anything as we drove past that McDonalds.
While giving Will a bath tonight I noticed that he had a bad scratch on his side and on his ankle. When I asked him about it he said that one of the big kids on the playground was poking him and scratching him, but he doesn’t know who his is.
I’m guessing this is also why he sprinted to me today at pick up and starting sobbing immediately saying, “I just missed you so much. Please don’t leave me so long again. I want to go right to bed when we go home” and making me carry him to the car.
Obviously, I want to stalk the playground, identify the demon who is harassing my precious child and then tear him limb from limb. Ya know, totally rational, right? But I guess this is when it’s more appropriate to just give the teacher a heads up. Instead of going to jail …