There was a crane here yesterday, and the construction crew lifted the walls and roof of the garage in place. I invited my friend Kathy over, she has 4 children, so that they could watch with us. I took plenty of pictures but I’ll have to post them some other day.
After a while, Kathy and I went back in the house. She was sitting in Rich’s recliner, reading, and I was in the kitchen. I happened to glance out the window just in time to see Davy-do climbing up on the porch railing with Rich’s big blue and white umbrella, which was open. “DON’T EVEN TELL ME” I said, and Kathy and I ran out to the porch just in time to watch David leap from the railing and to the ground below. I wasn’t fearing for his life, but I was afraid he would land wrong. Imagine if you had David standing straight and tall, and other David standing on his shoulders. . .that would be the height that he jumped. The thing was, he didn’t even hesitate! He jumped, landed in a shrub, and got up absolutely thrilled with himself. I asked him what he would have done if he had a stick go in his bottom, he looked at me like I was crazy. Of course that would not happen to HIM. He mentioned trying to jump from the landing in the house, which is a much greater distance. . . .I said to him, “no way”. .with fear in my heart, what WILL this boy do next?
Then, later in the day, he found a small gingerbread man cookie cutter. Do you know the story of the Gingerbread boy? A little old woman bakes him in the oven, and when she takes him out he jumps down and runs away. The whole story is about the various animals that he runs away from. . and he eventually is consumed by a fox. David LOVES that story and when he found the cookie cutter he simply HAD to make gingerbread men for himself. I wasn’t able to make him any dough so he took matters into his own hands. He found some tortilla wraps from the bread drawer and sat on the kitchen floor. He placed the cookie cutter on the wrap and then get up and STOMP STOMP STOMP until he got it through the **tough** tortilla wrap. He had to wear his sandels in order to do that. He managed to make about 5 of them and then I promised that I would make him dough. . “in the morning”. . . .
So, right now, he is sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table, carefully and quietly decorating his gingerbread men with sprinkles. Yes, Davy and I mixed up a giant fiesta bowl of sugar cookie dough and the kids each cut out one tray of cookies (we will save the rest of the dough for another day).
David will be the type of man who just has to take risks in order to feel alive. He will probably climb mountains, fly airplanes, and hang-glide. And I’ll have to let him. That’s the scary part! In the meantime, while he is only five, I have to try to keep him from maiming himself with his “ideas”. . . . . .
David, when he was three.
He’s like trying to keep track of. . .I don’t know. . something slippery. You think you have a hold on him, and the next thing you know, he’s gone and you’re looking for him. If we go for a walk, I have to keep my eye on him the whole time or he leaves and sneaks back to the house. He’s the kind of boy that drives you crazy, but when he looks at you with all that fun and charm shining in his eyes, you just can’t help but give him a squeeze.
Every night, when I tuck him into bed, he talks my ear off ~and the things he says to me shock me into laughter. He had to tell me all about his poopie yesterday. I’m sorry, I won’t get into details, but he sure did (go into details, that is). He ended up pausing dramatically at the end of his monologue and saying soberly, “Mom. I think I’m SICK.” I thought I was, too, but I didn’t tell him that. I just said, “Yes, you probably are. We better get you to bed right away.” LOL
So, I just now got up to help him get a drink of milk and he gave me a big hug. (He loves to hug me) I squealed and said, “I’ll tell you what, you are COVERED in flour!!” “That’s because I’m going to be a baker when I grow up” he said. Boy, he sure is proud of his cookies. He’s going to just eat one, and save the rest for a party.
“I sure was a busy baker!” he sighed, brushing the flour of his clothes, all content-like.