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Date with an Angel

What happens when awesome meets opportunity
What happens when awesome meets opportunity

My Life is sick. This happens when you have 3 children and you suck the snot out of their sick little noses because you just don't trust the bubble. Me, I think this qualifies mi esposa for a Mom of the Forever Award. I also think that there is very little chance that their noses are going to find their way into my mouth. I carry a hankie, I think that's enough.

But because my wife, my Life is sick she is off to the doctor this morning with the little girl. And since the Magician is at school I get to hang with my littlest. And since I hate to waste an opportunity I am wondering what I should teach him. He has mastered scratching, he seems too young for swimsuit magazines, and I'm worried about coupling his enthusiasm for bodily processes with spitting... so I don't think I can teach Gaston here about expectorating.

Hmmm, what to do?

Let me tell you about this kid. 2 in September, and the other day he climbed the railing on his grandparents' back porch, up to the top rail, and then went for a walk. On the rail. Which, while it is flat, is only 8 inches wide and 5 feet off the ground.

Later that night he was hanging off the table, weight supported on his elbows, feet dangling in the breeze. Like kids do. Again, 2 in September. I called him over to me and he pushed himself off the table... backwards... landed on his feet, and came over to me as if he hadn't just evidenced a level of body confidence that scares me a little.

And this morning, after eating all the sausage in his bowl and what of mine I couldn't hide in my mouth before he got to it, my little Abe Froman decided to play cowboy. So he brought me a holster (he has trouble with belts) and, now armed, went off in search of boots. Boots he found in the first place he looked, which was the downstairs bathroom. And since this isn't where we generally keep our boots, I have to suspect that he remembered the boots being there. Which I will admit impresses me a little. And then after a while of shooting up the playroom he brought me, just a few moments ago, the other holster. And when I - confused - told him he was already wearing a holster he held up the other gun as if to say, "but I'm not yet wearing this one." So now I have to assume that he is emulating Kevin Costner in Silverado. And Abe Froman. And Gaston, should I decide to teach him to spit.

Oy vey.

So my Angel has supreme body confidence, which I've addressed before. And on the other end is my Magician, who started therapy yesterday to strengthen his core and work on his coordination and build endurance and this and that. And while I'm not entirely sold on the idea, I have to relate a little bit of his day. His therapist put him on a suspended platform and started spinning it. She was initially concerned with him losing his cookies (he is a puker, lost breakfast today in fact), but after spinning 10 times in each direction he showed not even a trace of eye wobble. Said he could go for some more. Got down from the platform, grabbed a yoga ball, sat that up on the platform, climbed on it, and convinced the therapist to spin him while he balanced on a ball.

And no sign of eye wobble. But man was he in a good mood after!

So he is either perfectly built to be a fighter jock... will never get vertigo... actually lacks the fluid in his inner ear that helps balance and vomits after eating because chewing has the same effect as spinning... or I am going to spend money on a swing for his bedroom because the OT suggests that it will help him build pathways in his brain that seem to be lacking. On top of the Wii that was recommended by his PT that we're hoping Santa will get him this year.

But to further convince you of his amazing powers of awesome, last week he hooked up a gardening wagon to the back of his repurposed, repainted, once-upon-a-time-Barbie jeep that cruises at about 1/3 the speed of walk and gave home-made hay rides to his siblings. My kids rock.

The Goddess, meanwhile, sings Mama Mia!, is looking forward to getting boobs when she's a big cowgirl, wants a princess kitchen for Christmas, and is in a transitional phase where she hates pink / loves pink / hates pink. Is this normal for 3?


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