This morning it was 39 degrees. I really, really, really love fall, so part of me is rejoicing in the cool-down. Bryan is busy helping my uncle with harvest, which is yet another sign that fall is truly here. Of course, the influx of Asian beetles that will soon invade my house is a sign I could definitely go without this year, given the choice. I'd like to say that as I write this, I am sipping a cup of hot apple cider. But I'd be lying. I do, however, have cold apple cider in the fridge. Pardon me while I go warm up a mug.
Ok, I'm back. Hot apple cider. Check. I overheated it in the microwave, though, so it will be another couple of paragraphs before I can enjoy it. As I was saying, it is brisk this morning. The house is just a tad chilly, as the sun has not yet had a chance to warm it up. So, the question of the morning: Do I dare turn on the heat? We live in an old farmhouse that has electric baseboard heaters throughout. Kyla, who will be 8 months old next week, has yet to learn the meaning of the word HOT. Once I turn on the heaters, though, she will be forced to learn. So I decided to start small. I brought our little bathroom space heater into the living room and plugged it in. Sure enough, Kyla immediately crawled to it with every intention of checking it out. I firmly told her no. She did it again. And again. This time I accentuated my "no" with a slap on her beautiful little hand. She was devastated. Tears poured down her cheeks, and snot ran out her nose. She gave me the "Don't you love me, Mommy?" look. Here she goes again. I will report.
Ok, here's how it went. Reach. Touch. "Kyla, no." Two beautiful brown eyes look up to meet mine. Reach. Touch. "Kyla, no!" No response at all this time. "Kyla, no!" Hand slap. Kyla sits back on her butt and immediately bursts into tears. But...she quit trying to touch the heater...for now. Ahh, sometimes it hurts to be the Mommy.
Last night Kyla and I went to visit my aunt Kathy for the evening who was watching three grandchildren. My cousin Nikki was also there with her two children. So, between us three adults, we six children to watch, ages 5, 2, 1, almost-8-months, 4-months, and 3-months. Supper time, bath time, snack time, bed time. Hilarious...sorta. The 1-year-old, who had just gotten out of the bath, ate her root beer float with her hands and had to be washed from head to toe again. The 2-year-old sat as quietly as a sleeping infant watching the chaos around her. When everything had finally quieted and most of the kids were in bed, she very quietly announced to her mother, "I'm ready to go to bed now." What a kid! The 5-year-old and 1-year-old sisters were put in the same bed. The 1-year-old has a favorite singing glowworm that must accompany her to bed. When checked on later, her 5-year-old sister had fallen asleep with hands over her hears and eyes scrunched tight. When I was ready to leave, Kathy and Nikki stated that they were keeping Kyla and sending one of the crying children home with me. I believe Kyla only stayed quiet because there were enough other children to handle the noise-making responsibility for the evening. As soon as we were in the car, Kyla began to cry incessantly...until she fell asleep from the sheer exhaustion of it all. Favorite quote from the evening: I brought along Kyla's little chair that attaches to the side of the table or island counter. Kathy looked at the chair and asked me "What holds that chair on there?" Without missing a beat, Nikki promptly replied, "Prayer."
An update on the heater situation. We are making process. Kyla crawls to the heater. I firmly say, "Kyla, no." She skips right to the bursting into tears part without even getting her hand slapped. But, as soon as I say no, she pulls her hand away from the heater. Of course, I won't leave this heater here without supervision, so eventually we are going to have to move on to the baseboard heaters.
Perhaps tonight.
0 comments:
Post a Comment