Andy let it slip (though I don't really think it was a slip as much as a total lack of thinking about the consequences) that we are getting on an airplane soon. Turner's eyes lit up as though it was finally his birthday again (read the previous post about singing the birthday song; he sings it at least once a day now and then follows it up with "Chi birthday soon. Turner birthday far away").
He heard the news and took off running naked down our hallway, and rushing to my legs in the kitchen, he slams into me from pure adrenaline. "Airplane Mommy. Going up in the air Mommy. Airplane!" I tried to explain that yes we are going on an airplane but not until Thursday and that today was only Monday. Then I counted on my hands the number of days to pass before we would be sailing up in the air toward the beach. Never fear, if I didn't handle it correctly the first time I have practiced at least ten other ways of explaining to my two year old that the airplane ride does not happen today. We get in the car to go the gym and he asks about the airplane. He leave the gym to go to the book store, and he persistently tells me it is now time for the airplane. We walk out of the bookstore and Turner admonishes me to run as he pulls his knees high into his chest and yells, "We go on the airplane." Notice a pattern? Most people find this endearing. I would too, if I were Andy, the one who got to experience the full excitement of the news and then leaves for work. I've considered telling Turner we can't go on the airplane until Daddy does the dishes, just to see if Turner's persistence is more influential than mine. At moments today I've been tempted to look into those helicopter tours. I'm counting on my hands too and three more days of disappointing Turner seems tortuous.
He heard the news and took off running naked down our hallway, and rushing to my legs in the kitchen, he slams into me from pure adrenaline. "Airplane Mommy. Going up in the air Mommy. Airplane!" I tried to explain that yes we are going on an airplane but not until Thursday and that today was only Monday. Then I counted on my hands the number of days to pass before we would be sailing up in the air toward the beach. Never fear, if I didn't handle it correctly the first time I have practiced at least ten other ways of explaining to my two year old that the airplane ride does not happen today. We get in the car to go the gym and he asks about the airplane. He leave the gym to go to the book store, and he persistently tells me it is now time for the airplane. We walk out of the bookstore and Turner admonishes me to run as he pulls his knees high into his chest and yells, "We go on the airplane." Notice a pattern? Most people find this endearing. I would too, if I were Andy, the one who got to experience the full excitement of the news and then leaves for work. I've considered telling Turner we can't go on the airplane until Daddy does the dishes, just to see if Turner's persistence is more influential than mine. At moments today I've been tempted to look into those helicopter tours. I'm counting on my hands too and three more days of disappointing Turner seems tortuous.
1 comment:
This blog is great, and will be even better when y'all are far, far away. I'm looking forward to spending a few days with y'all at the beach. See you Thursday!!
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