This morning I was woken at no later than 5:30. Usually, I'm good, but for some reason--maybe having been woken at no later than 5:30 for the past 3 weeks--I just couldn't do it, so I went to pull Sam out of his crib and immediately collapsed back into bed, knowing it wouldn't last. I had piled all the excess pillows and comforters on Elise's side of the bed and I guess, in retrospect, it did look a little like the contraption Ferris Bueller had constructed to convince his parents that he was still in bed, because Sam sprinted around the foot of the bed, thinking the pile of pillows was Elise. When he realized it wasn't her, he immediately burst into tears and I had to remind him that mom was on a trip. If Pete wasn't awake yet, he was then.
We watched cartoon and, after Pete had his mini-morning nap, we took the Metro and walked to the park where I snapped this lovely self-portrait....
I have such a hard time getting out of the house remembering everything, but this morning I was extra proud of myself because I brought bottles and milk and even a hat for Pete (which I notoriously forget). I even remembered to bring Sam's bucket and shovel to play in the sand box. At this park, there are common toys that 'live' there that everyone can play with, so all the kids assume that all the toys are everyone's toys and it is a general free-for-all. It's hard for Sam to understand why the kids are making off with his shovel and bucket when we went to so much trouble to carry them with us on the Metro. And while I do encourage Sam to share his toys when we remember to bring them, I was so excited that we had actually remembered to bring toys this time and I wasn't--for once--the deadbeat parent bumming toys off of other supremely more-prepared parents than I and that we had gone to all the trouble getting them there, that I became genuinely distraught when Sam's red bucket went missing for thirty minutes.
After naps, Sam and I agreed that he was going to get a haircut this afternoon. I quickly learned that his enthusiasm at home would immediately vanish at the door to the haircut place. I opened the door to Super Barber where I had recently had my haircut (see previous post), and Sam strutted in...then burst into tears and clawed for the door. When I stooped to talk to him, Pete started crying, so I aborted and returned to the sidewalk outside. I spent the next 30 minutes trying to build a persuasive argument as to why Sam should get his haircut hear. I tried bribery (lollipops, cookies, milk, ice cream, movies, even "anything you want to do" which was equally vague and dangerous). I told him how happy mom would be if he got his haircut today.
See, part of the problem is the last place he had his haircut was this super-cool barber shop in Jupiter. Two tattooed bikers opened a shop with loud music and flat screen TVs. When Sam went there, they let him watch cartoons. Everytime we talked about him getting his haircut again, he would point to his forearm and say, "'Toos...cool!". It was definitely a hard act to follow.
When the nice Vietnamese women saw Sam and I migrating back toward the front door, they came out onto the sidewalk wielding Dum-Dums, but Sam still wasn't having it. I realized this was never going to happen with Pete in the baby bjorn so we came back upstairs whereupon I had to explain to Sam that the barber shop with the guys with tattoos was in Florida, at Nanny's house, and that we had to find a new, equally cool barber shop here. I suggested the mall. He, again, showed enthusiasm. I offered to do a trial run at the dining room table where he sat in my lap, but he wouldn't stop crying long enough to do a role-play which is when I decided that maybe this was another one of my parenting tricks that was doomed on the launch pad.
We went to the mall. I had no better luck at Hair Cuttery. Even with a Coldstone right there. By this time, Pete was getting restless and I was beyond exasperated with Sam. I threatened to take him home again ("No house...! No house...!) and told him we would try the first shop we went into again.
Fortunately, it was ten to closing and the place was empty. I sat down with Sam in my lap and he acted like he does when we take him to the doctor. I almost gave up, but one of the women told me it was okay. No apron. She would have it done in 2 minutes and befor either of us knew what was going on she was cutting. Another woman came out of the back and served to try and distract Sam, cooing at him and showing him his hair (which was now all over both of us) and pretending to make it disappear like a magician. Another woman appeared and kept Pete company. They were all talking in high-pitched Vietnamese around us. I don't even think Sam knew what to make of any of it, at this point, and finally stopped crying and squirming long enough to be amused and then tickled.
Eventually, he earned his Dum-Dum (root beer flavored. He offered me a hair-covered lick). Then marched down the sidewalk proudly, as though he'd never made a fuss and as though it hadn't been the better part of an hour and forty-five minutes of back and forth and up and down, convincing him to get his hair cut. As we were headed back to Coldstone for his reward bowl of neon blue cotton candy ice cream, I told him how proud I was of him and how handsome he looked and he looked back up and me and asked, "Mom happy?"
"Yes, mom will be very happy."
1 comment:
this is impressive! 2 kids, multiple destinations, and convincing Sam to do something he did not want to do! I bet their mom will be quite impressed.
Looking forward to hearing more about Brasilia. When do you guys leave?
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