For the entirety of our vacation, Simon was a study in motion. At the end of our first day of travel home, we hit a soccer complex in Asheville so he could continue his athletic pursuits. Nine a.m. our first day home, Simon was on a tennis court having his first official lesson of the summer, followed by a trip to the zoo.
Matt and I, meanwhile, were feeling the effects of a much busier than usual 10 days: we were pooped. “How can he do it?” we wondered. Even for a five-year-old, the pace seemed unsustainable. Turns out, that’s because it was. By noon Monday Simon was in full bumping-into-things, dawdle mode. At six, he was getting crabby and short-tempered with Matt, who threatened a time-out if the attitude didn’t improve.
At which point Simon declared that he was giving himself a time-out, walked upstairs, got in bed, and promptly fell asleep while his dinner cooked in the oven. He never ate it, and repeated efforts to rouse Simon failed. Finally, at 11:00 p.m. we managed to get him into pajamas, brush his teeth, and have him use the bathroom. He awoke this morning at 7:15 or so, about 13 hours after he put himself to bed without his dinner.
I’m sorry he’s so tired, but frankly relieved to discover that his seeming super-human energy level has its limits.
Comsidering the appetite, the activity and the sleep, I predict a growth spurt. We can start a pool as to how many inches.
So far, one inch and counting. I measured him at 47″ last night. His cleats are looking suddenly short, too. I’ll re-measure at the end of the summer and fully expect him to hit four feet by then.
Are you kidding? Totally cracks me up. I think Kira is 38″. (I was 48″ in the FOURTH grade.) For fun, she wore the same outfit on the last day of school yesterday as she did on the first day of school in September. The skirt was a little shorter and she had new sandals (a large 8.5), but otherwise everything fit great. And I can relate to your “hypocrite” post: Like you, I consider myself passably pretty (if I work at it : ). But Kira gets “OMG, aren’t you gorgeous!” kinds of comments because she has a mix of our nicer features–Daddy’s nicely symmetrical face and my eyes, plus that golden hair. She finds the attention annoying at this point, which I understand, but I have to admit that I hope some of it sticks around (and that she gets my legs, not Tom’s : ). My big fear: Attractive child syndrome. Have you ever noticed how supremely beautiful people were weird looking as kids, and adorable children often turn out kind of bleh as adults?