Friday, January 23, 2009

Lukey's Friday Eve Adventures. . .

aka. . . how much fun can a little boy have before a Mama breaks down. . .

Busy day yesterday. Luke started back to his Play Pals classes. . . aka school with Miss Lynn. He has progressed so far since we started these classes. The little boy who would cling to my legs and cry if another child looked at him. Who was afraid to interact with other children. Who wouldn't sit and do anything without having a meltdown. . .

He actually sat in one of those little tykes cars and drove around (something I have been trying to get him to do at home for over a year). And, when the clean-up bell rang, he got right out of the car and helped Mama push it over to the corner and hopped over to the carpet for circle time. Who's child is this?

We sang songs (and he lay sleepily in my lap for the beginning. Mama, I snuggle down. He said . . . which is what we say at bedtime. . .).

Made a cute little snowman (and made signs with the leftover bits of paper, of course). Played with sparkely play-doh (cutting out stars and making numbers).

And had cake. How much of a good day can a little boy have?

Came home in time for some lunch. And then a Mama thought, you know, we never paint anymore. Hmmm...

So I pulled out those little crayola paint brushes that have the paint inside. And we happily made balloons. . . and signs. . . and I ran downstairs to put in some laundry (precariously leaving my Picasso alone for just a minute). And returned upstairs to see that grin. You know the one. That guilty one. The one that instantly tells you the child has been up to no good.

You see I did, Mama. And I walk into the dining room, fearful. Knowing the world will have been painted the crayola blue that he is clenching in his little innocent boy fist. And walk in to find that he created his own traffic light and a few rectangles on the easel. Oh, Mama, so easy to jump to the wrong conclusions.


Only to find later in the day one carpeted step painted blue. (the same steps that I cleaned this morning from the dirty Maxey pawprints he tracked in from outside).

And, as I was making dinner, I looked down at little Max. He looked back at me looking like the dog from Braveheart. How did I miss this? Half of his face streaked with blue (I'm thinking marker was responsible for this one). Looking at me forlorn.

So, wee Luke and I had another conversation about where colors go. . . on paper . . . and not on steps and dogs and such. (I color Maxey. Nice.).

All to fall asleep on my shoulder last night as Dada and Jack and I raced on the Wii. .. So sweet.

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