Gavin took his first dump in the yard the other day. I did not witness this event because I was inside, so I am relying on Stacy, who was outside with him during his evening balls out time, for an eye witness account. My first question was, "Did he, like, notice or acknowledge that this was going on?" Nope, according to Stacy. He was just standing at his water table, splashing about when all of a sudden he was soiling our lawn (which hardly deserves to be called a lawn, but it's all we've got). Stacy immediately brought him inside for a bath and then left for dance class.
The question I should have asked, it turns out, was, "Did you clean it up?" Which would have gotten the same response as the first question: Nope. But I did not ask this question. For one thing, it didn't occur to me. I guess I'd just taken it as a given. So when we all headed out to the backyard again the next evening I was momentarily confused by the unknown object on the ground next to Gavin's water table. From afar I thought it might be a pine cone, though we have no pine trees in or near our yard. Upon closer inspection it appeared that a dog considerably larger than our 13 lb. poodle had relieved himself in our yard. But that thought was but a flicker as I soon realized what I was looking at: my son's poop. "Honey, you didn't pick this up?!" I yelled, slightly hysterically but not angrily as Stacy and Gavin emerged from the house. To which, of course, she responded, "I thought you were going to do that." To which I could only respond with complete bewilderment. I mean, it's not that I would have been opposed to be the HazMat team on this one, but
I simply didn't know it was still there. And I'm not sure how or why Stacy thought I would or could know. Clearly there was a communication breakdown somewhere in there. But worry not, it's gone now.
Gavin's molars are coming in and he is super crab-faced about it. Not that I blame him. Poor dude's mouth hurts. But there has definitely been an uptick in the shares of Crabster stock around here for the past few days. We're giving him Tylenol and teething tablets and cold/cool things to chew on (though he totally popped his water-filled foot-shaped teether this afternoon, so that's now trash), and that's really all we can do. You can see the angry little land mines in his gums where teeth will soon explode from. It looks very painful.
Marilyn, Gavin's granny, Stacy's mom, and my mother-in-law (really mother-if-there-was-a-law) is in town from Florida. She'll be staying with us for the next two weeks or so. She is super excited to play with Gavin. I think they'll have a lot of fun together. And hopefully Stacy and I will be able to take advantage of her time here and go on some dates. Tonight we actually do have a date in that there's an orientation meeting for Gavin's day care. Which he starts the 31st. Which is just too, too close. I am in denial. I hope he does okay (in day care, not at the meeting. He isn't invited to the meeting. Sorry, Gavin, grown-ups only. Get used to it for the next 18 years). He hasn't been in day care for so long. He's been home all summer with me and Stacy and is still in major Koala bear clingy mode with Stacy. So I can see the adjustment period maybe being a little rocky. Before he went to day care for the very first time, which was a couple months before I got laid off and started staying home with him full time, I was a nervous wreck. But the orientation meeting helped set my mind at ease. I am hoping that tonight's meeting will have a similar effect. Especially since last night I dreamed there was a terrible shooting at my old elementary school/junior high. Did I mention that his day care is inside an elementary school? Anxiety dream, you think?
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