I wasn’t actually planning to celebrate Boxing Day, of course, but I did plan to have some fun. My Wednesday sitter called to cancel Tuesday night, which meant that after many busy days preparing for or celebrating holidays, today I was going to cancel my attic-cleaning project, sit back, and enjoy some down-time with Simon. Ah bliss, a lazy day with nothing to do but hang out with my little guy.
If only. My day ended up being so annoying that I’m afraid I didn’t enjoy much of it, even as Simon launched a 13-hour charm assault. All the while I dread Simon’s developing toddler frustrations and fits of temper, I had a day-long fit of temper befitting a toddler myself. It all revolved around some petty family drama that frankly is too stupid and tedious to rehash. Suffice it to say that all will be fine, but there were some hurt feelings and stoked ire. Mine, to be specific.
While I stewed, Simon managed to play in his bath and throw a full cup of water out of the tub. Messy but funny. And he managed to empty the contents of our recycling bin all over the kitchen. And empty the waste basket in the downstairs bathroom. And throw all his blocks under the couch. And dump over the cat dishes. (And taste-test some cat food.) And reach for dishes in the dishwasher. And empty the contents of our recycling bin all over the kitchen again. All messy but funny.
He also helped me finish the goat-cheese from Christmas Eve, helped Matt eat a home-made punch icicle, petted the kitties nicely, giggled like mad for most of the day, yanked off my glasses a hundred and one times, took off his socks and hat during our walk, played in a pile of cleaning rags, played peek-a-boo with me from behind the couch, and bounced up and down and shook his head back and forth when his favorite songs played. In other words, he pulled out every adorable weapon in his adorable baby arsenal. I wish I could have enjoyed it more, but at least I was able to reflect on it and end my day on a sweet note.
Yesterday was a similarly splendid day over at the Whitworths, as once again Simon fully participated in the activities and had a grand time. He loved all of his grandparents’ lights, the Christmas punch and cookies, “walking” with my mom, scooting around the house, and reading “A Visit from St. Nicholas”. He babbled up a storm used some real words, too, and even perfected his “gimme five” technique. He trotted out the pseudo-sentence “where go?” at one point, but I’m chalking that up to mimicry and a fluke.
We couldn’t have had a better Christmas, and—thankfully—I’m far more likely to remember that than my Boxing Day snit.