Upon our arrival in Lincoln, Zack was immediately at home, pulling out toys he must have been dreaming of for months. As the day drew to a close, though, he put his toys temporarily aside. "Let's go outside for a walk before it gets dark," he suggested. So he, Grandad and I set off with Sam in my ergo. He got a kick out of walking behind Grandad so that his feet made no new prints in the snow. I told him about how Native American hunters and warriors walked single file. "I'm a stative American hunter," he announced a few minutes later as he once again fell in behind Grandad.
That night turned out to be the only night Sam slept in her crib the whole week. The other nights, she lay next to or on top of me in Jess's old twin bed, and one night all three of us slept in the double bed I'd assigned to Zack. Her only truly rough night, though, was the last one, when I made the mistake of calling Amie with her at bedtime -- the longing for her mother that resulted was too much for her to bear.
Zack's only tough night, by contrast, was the first one. He woke up demanding milk in the middle of the night, and I refused to go get it, telling him that I was setting a limit. Amid tears, he had yelled, "I'm going to shoot your limits!" In the morning, as I talked calmly to him about why I'd had to set a limit, he too remained calm and maintained eye contact with me throughout, even though he clearly grasped that I was asserting authority and he submitting to it. "I shooted your limits, but they're still alive," he said. An elegant, if violent, metaphor.
The kids enormously enjoyed having their run of the house and so many adults to wait on them. Frequent special breakfasts pleased both kids' palettes, and the storm and the sights of nature, especially the birds but also things like deer tracks in the snow, aroused Zack's curiosity. Sam tore around the house, exploring and manipulating objects, yet wisely avoided any potential hazards such as stairs and outlets. She showed great affinity for her aunt, practically yelling "Jess!" when she made her appearance while the kids were in the bath our first night in town.
The day after the blizzard, she sat placidly in a sled while Jess pulled her around the driveway. Zack alternated between sitting in a second sled, also mostly pulled by Jess, and climbing out to help her pull it. He also got a kick out of helping Grandad with the shoveling. This, while his sister mainly stood around in awe of the snow piled nearly as high as we head.
***
"Dad, I did not know boys have patients too." This when I told him that Grandad had a patient. He'd previously known only that his mom and Savta had gone to see patients, and had perhaps her Jess refer to her patients, too.
***
Reading out of an illustrated bird book Savta had received for her birthday, Zack read "Florida Everglades" without assistance. "F, fl, flo, or, flor, Florida! E, ev, er, ever, g, gl, Evergl, ah, ad, Everglades!"
***
Sam is showing significant interest in the potty. She sits on it frequently, typically with her clothes on. (At least once, she also sat down on the scale and grunted, as if straining to move her bowels.) On Monday, I saw her struggling mightily to remove her diaper and helped her ease it off. She put herself on the potty and strained and strained, passing gas and even a small amount of excreta. Amie and I were quite surprised! With my assistance, she also positioned her wawa on the smaller potty next to her. Zack cheered both of them on.
After a leisurely bath just before the Boston trip, Zack informed me that he wanted to get out and sit on the potty. I dried him off, drained the tub, told him some details about our upcoming trip, and -- having completely forgotten about his toileting needs -- asked him to floss his teeth. "Hey, poop!" he retorted. First things first, dad. "Stinky!" he remarked a minute or so later. "May you put something over my nose because I don't like the smell?"
Yesterday morning, Sam went around collecting and donning articles of her brother's clothing. The t-shirt he'd slept in here, a sweater Savta had knitted him there, some outgrown shoes of his from the closet. A more-than-willing recipient of hand-me-downs.
***
Uttered long ago, but just remembered by your correspondent:
Zack, commenting on the appearance of his Indian friend Arin, "He is color brown. I'm color gray."
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