What a Difference Two Half-Days Make!

Whew!  I am definitely thanking God it's Friday more than usual today!  Yes, I have survived Spring Break, Toddler Style.  When you think about it, Sam's preschool is only a measly six hours a week, even then minus a few minutes here and there for pick-up/drop-off time.  Oh, Lordy, though, that time sure does make all the difference in the world, especially since every babysitter in the county seems to be spending spring break somewhere more exciting than at home.  It's tough not having any reinforcements at all.  Reinforcements are good for the soul, the battery recharger if you will.

It's not that it was bad or awful, just harder and more draining to not get some sort of break somewhere in there.  It sure is  hard to believe that I did it for two whole years and three months before he started preschool, not that I'm counting or anything.  Thankfully the weather was amazingly balmy, so we had a great time going to the park and discovering a couple of new gems in the area.  We also got to branch out a bit and have a few play dates and picnics.  I had a great time.  Oh, and he did, too!  In fact, I don't know who had a better time -- him or me.  It's always a guaranteed great time if he really likes his Lilliputian friend, and I enjoy hanging out with the mommy.  It's like a double date, and it's only really a success if he plays well with the kiddo and I enjoy gabbing the time away with the mommy.  When it works, it's awesome.  When it doesn't, it is downright painful.

Sam is still all-firetruck-all-the-time, so he was happy pretty much anywhere.  You see, he can turn just about anything into fire equipment, like a big long stick as a hose and an ash-covered grill as his pumper truck.  (Some adults would be locked up for harboring such fantasies not based on reality, but for a two-year-old it is good stuff.)  And since he ALWAYS has his red plastic fire hat on ALL THE TIME, he is ready to spring into action with his hair soaken with sweat and plastic hat warm from his body heat.  Hopefully his hat won't catch on fire one of these days from long-term exposure to low-grade heat.  

His fire fighting activities sure do monopolize his time.  Now he picks up the phone and announces, "It's the fire station.  Sam needs to go fight a fire."  At the library the other day, he was trying to activate the fire extinguisher himself and then enlisting my support when he couldn't get the glass case to spring open on his own.  Mom's good for something sometime.  So there is another good reason for a securely locked case -- well-intentioned yet delusional junior firefighters like Sam Macky trying to save Midlothian from going up in flames, a very worthy cause, in his own mind, of course.

The highlight of the week was yesterday when he picked some flowering weeds from our yard, a testament to our nonexistent gardening skills.  After gathering them all together, he extended the weedy little arrangement out to me with a coy smile, announcing, "These are for you, Mommy."  Let me tell you, Fort Lauderdale ain't got nothing on  suburban Richmond.  There is no place better to be.

LibbY