Saturday, May 4, 2013

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit

We have reached the time of much scribbling and writing. Benjamin is ferreting out every pen, pencil, marker, and crayon we have in the house. And I think he has go-go gadget capabilities, because no matter how far back or out of reach I place the writing utensils he always seems to get them. There is a lovely abstract drawing on our fireplace screen presently. Sigh. Thank goodness for the magic eraser.

Every now and then I find myself wandering around trying to decide what to do. I never seem to remember that crayon needs to be cleaned off the fireplace or the kitchen floor or wall....

The lovely thing about this new phase is Benjamin is currently standing at his little activity table, using my pen to mark on every page of my shopping list notepad. Those things are a dollar a dozen, so I'm okay with it- and I love his intent. He chatters while he draws. He is creating, or at least imagining he is creating, a masterpiece. Or he is marking up plans for a new building, or drawing a landscaping idea. I know the picture of cartoon bunnies on the bottom of the page are significant. We have bunnies in our yard constantly. They're everywhere here on the West Mesa. On of my flowerbeds is being slowly consumed by them, and there's patches in the grass where they've nibbled away. Not to mention the rabbit pellets! We pray the boys never notice them. They look like raisins. Enough said.

Benjamin, of course, is obsessed with the rabbits. Some may recall the incident recently when he saw a rabbit through the window. He dashed outside, and became immediately heartbroken when the rabbit ran away.  Deep, choking, sobs heartbroken. Since then he chases them whenever he is free. When he's strapped down to the stroller he contents himself with saying 'hi, rabbit!' or 'rabbit, where are you? oh! there he is' as we pass by on our walks. Cracks me up.

Regardless of his affection for the little pests, the rabbits gotta go. My poor little flowers don't stand a chance if they stay. I see chicken wire in my near future...

Monday, April 29, 2013

Sunday morning/Monday evening

Let it be known that the rule of law in the Ochoa household is the later the boys stay up and the busier they are before bedtime, the EARLIER they will wake in the morning. Unbelievable. Peter came down at 12:45? Not sure. I didn't really lay down after that. I was trying to give him a drink which he rejected over and over and we both passed out with the effort of resisting each other-Peter laying on my arm splayed to my side, me propped up on pillows I wish I had moved before resting my head. My neck is killing me this morning. Then, at dawn, about 6am, Benjamin came bounding down with all his bounding energy and Peter and I, bleary-eyed and groggy from being woken from that deep morning sleep, had no choice but to become conscious or risk injury from the pointed affections of my 2 year old bulldozer. Benjamin gives kisses and then he will press his head against your head and apply pressure. I think he wants to see how hard he can push before you cry out in pain. Then he lays down perpendicular to his intended target and straightens his legs, stretching his toes so his legs are as long as possible. I dont know if his intent is to move the person he's pushing against or see if he can insert his toes into their stomach.

professional rascal. works for smoothies, goldfish, and crackers of any kind.

Ah, well. Such is life with a toddler. We've had an idyllic couple of days. The weather, late afternoon winds notwithstanding, has been perfect. This morning, when I began my ritual of sipping my coffee in the sun after watering the daisies, wildflowers and lavender plants, Benjamin came up to me and said 'Ben chair, mommy.' He pulled on my hand, trying to get me out of 'his' chair. I replied, 'no, there's Ben's chair', and I pointed to a chair in the middle of the lawn, left there the day before. It was about 3 feet away from mine. He climbed up and settled himself in with a butt wiggle. Then he sat forward put his hands on the armrests, and started talking to me. At first I couldn't understand a word he said, aside from some names. But the more I really listened, the more I discerned different words- 'going', 'school', and 'not yet' among them. Shocked my shorts off. I just stared at him in wonder, my brilliant child, as he chattered away. I asked him questions when the opportune pauses occurred. I have no idea if I was on-topic or not, but he seemed to find my responses appropriate.

Now, Benjamin talks all the time. He talks to me all the time, he talks to the tv, and he talks to his dad and brother, anyone who will listen (or look like they're listening). What killed me in this moment was the way he was postured in his chair, leaning forward, intent on our conversation. Every now and then he paused and stared off into the clouds. Then he would say something, grin, and fake laugh, complete with a 'ha ha ha' and wrinkled nose and clapping his hands and slapping his leg in glee. Whatever he said must have been hysterical.

This magic moment lasted about 10 minutes. I didn't take a picture. I didn't want to break the spell. I will never forget his serious little face, and the way his shoulders would shake when he forced himself to laugh. I half expected him to ask me for his own mug of coffee (wouldn't be the first time, come to think of it).