Squirrels at the Zoo

Spin the Kitty

It's been a busy month. We began with a vacation for Jon, and a week off just hanging out and mad-dashing. As seems to be our new habit, anytime we plan a big outing (in this case, Josh's first trip to the zoo), Josh spent the night before in a fit of teething and fussing with more ups and downs than a mountain pass. Sleep wasn't an option...but that too, has become habit. We dragged ourselves out into the light of day, scowling at the sunlight...just trolls without a bridge. Josh sensed something was up...for one, he's hit the weight and height requirement and we could finally switch the carseat around...for the first time, he could see where we were going. It was a long drive, but it went quickly...he laughed and grinned the whole way. As usual, we arrived when they were black-topping the parking lot. All three of us felt like strips of bacon, but we loaded Josh into the stroller of doom and piled in the necessary tack to haul a baby around in what would eventually become a 90+ degree day: crackers, diaper bag, three frozen-and-thawing wash clothes that had been dipped in nursery water for the dual purpose of keeping him hydrated and in a safe body-temp range, sunscreen, both of his hats (because he was wearing one, but wanted to hold the other), two water bottle straps (Never go to a zoo or amusement park without one -- best souvenir you'll ever snag), my purse-which is the size and weight equivalent of his diaper bag --, gum, a spray bottle, my camera, a small army of Peruvian coffee pickers, several extras from Waterworld, and a partridge...at that point, there was no room left in the stroller for the flippin' pear tree. We also had one harness for him, as I'd rather have him in a walking harness where I can see him than on a milk carton. The harness was helpful, he could stretch, but it was too short to be completely practical, at least for poor Jon who kept catching his long legs in the strap, and had to do some high stepping and quick detangling in order to keep Josh from re-enacting all of those scenes in the westerns where the hero gets dragged behind the escaping stagecoach horses. Neither of Josh's hats were in the ten-gallon style. It would have been poor form at the very least. Josh was enraptured with the zoo. OH! And he'd point and bounce at the flamingos. OH! He'd point and chirp (he's gaining a vocabulary, but he still sounds like a little bird most of the time) at the penguins. OH! OH! The tortoises look exactly like Mzee, friend of Owen the baby hippo from his book. OH!!! Yeah, baby, those river turtles are really getting it on -- Whoa! Backup. Now, I am well aware of the birds and the bees...but I confess, I was thrown momentarily by what can only be described as "Hot. Turtle. ----", sorry, any further details and this blog moves out of PG-13 territory. Josh was highly intrigued and made many loud coos of admiration, and pointed with several dramatic jumps at the hot-blooded reptiles -- in case I missed it , and Jon, of course, was no help. He looked at me. He looked at "The Boy". He didn't stop chuckling until we were halfway down the hallway. For the record, the zoo does not accept squirrels disguised as husbands or small children. I checked. In case you're wondering, they wouldn't take me either. :P

*****

The next week was an especially exciting one for all of us. Josh was staying with the wild woman (my mom), for four glorious days and three glorious nights -- a first. I had never been away from him that long, and although I know at this point that after the first night (which is always tough on all of them), he's fine and having a blast -- the last evening before I get him, my hands start to itch again. I start feeling just this side of on edge, because my head keeps saying that he supposed to be here. I think, honestly, the Itchy Hands thing is kind of the same reaction I used to have when my favorite stuffed animal got left at home when I went to sleepovers. I could manage without it, but it just felt weird -- not bad, just weird. It wasn't that it wasn't safe and perfectly fine, it was just that it wasn't here with me. Of course, the result of the Itchy Hands routine is that Mom thinks that she shouldn't try keeping him for three nights, so I've seriously got to chill out or I may end up shooting myself in the foot here. Now, it's silly. I know it's silly. I also know that even with the help of Harry and Helen and Jon's folks...by the time Mom can snag him, Jon and I are holding out for that "vacation" like it's the last gasp of air in an oxygen tank. I love Josh, but it is difficult to "date" with small boy in tow...you aren't thinking of the dark eyes looking at you adoringly, you're focusing on the blue eyes that are rapidly zooming in on the stuffed mushrooms and the hot olive oil they are resting in ... the shiny, pointy silverware... the lighted candles and the ketchup bottle -- at the same time. I have not yet mastered the art of looking sexy and alluring while removing a half-chewed green crayon from the drooling lips of a very proud-of-himself-little boy. Nor have I been able to maintain smoldering eye contact with my "hubband", as I reflexively shove everything half-way across the table and out of Josh's reach -- the only thing smoldering at that point is Jon's leg when the steaming-hot coffee cup drops into his lap. Really, some days I'm still completely convinced I gave birth to a squid.

So Josh and Grandma Marsha had their grand adventure, and part of it included his very first Bible School, where he danced with a hundred and fifty other kids, and cooed his way through all of the songs. What I wouldn't give if someone had been able to video tape his time there, but the pictures are still darling. I'm told that Josh actually tried to trade the Sacred Harry Hat (his little brown cap that looks like Uncle Harry's) for a little girls blue cowboy hat. He made two teddy bears...one got sent to a little person overseas, and he got to bring the other home. I look at these pictures, and again I'm struck by how together he seems. Sometimes I think he's changing minute by minute. He's already 35" tall, and Jon and I are taking bets on his final adult height, a game that get progressively more difficult when he puts on inches like everyone else puts on socks. He played, he danced, he charmed, he cooed, he sang, he danced some more...and when he was away from Bible school, he was helping Mom water her flowers...He likes buckets of water...he likes to pour them all over his head.

He likes to just walk right into Dad's fishpond and point out the fishies (he is a big fan of all things fishy). He would help point out the kitties (all, um, "three" of them) and chase them. He hadn't forgotten his first love, though, because in the first fifteen minutes of his visit, he had found Dad's tractor, and was showing his Grandpa Dave how to work it properly...thankfully, Dad had hidden the key before those sharp blue eyes spotted it.

Before you get all worried, that dark patch around his right eye is mud, from where Mom deliberately hosed him as she watered her flowers. She says it was an accident...but I have video proof otherwise. She hosed him down several times. And then, she laughed.
At her own grandson. And then she hosed him down again. *gasp...shock* :P


*****

He came home taller, more certain of himself, and ornerier than ever... He had done it all, and it was time to dance. Dancing and laughing, those are his favorite things to do. He has no fear. He has no shame. A kid-less week was so wonderful...and it was so great just to be a couple again...but you know...it's kind of nice to have him back...where he belongs.