practicing

Hank asks me to retrieve the cradle from the mantel, the one that is at least 200 years old, promising to just rock it gently with one little finger. 
I spend the better part of most days following him around, convincing myself this must be the work that I need to do now, before all that other work I have written down and want to cross off.

His sock drawer is a disaster, because he insists on wearing mismatched sets, pulling pairs apart and bringing me one of each, argyle and stripes, red and purple.
The sock drawer situation has been exacerbated by all the recent "sock races," in which all four boys run from one end of the house to the other, sliding at a specified spot. When Hank is not complaining about a sock being loose, he is commanding brothers to scoot even backer at the starting line.
This game leads to inevitable injuries. Hank stumbles often, and usually yells, before he's even hit the ground Oh no, I forgot to watch out! But I'm okay! Good thing I'm tough!

He enjoys doing work on the computer. I want to do a document. I want them to be super big letters. Can you please spell my name for me with your words, and I will push the buttons?

He is obsessed with patterns, talking about them incessantly. Except he calls them "patterings."
He jumps and spreads his legs and then scissors them together, out, in, out, in.
He lines up cucumber slices and carrot sticks across his plate, green, green, orange, green, green, orange.
He arranges foam shapes in the bath tub, big square, small circle, big square.

He has a small circle-shaped scratch near his left wrist, which hasn't healed quickly because he rubs it when he's tired.  He calls it his "new watch" and checks it all the time. Wait! My watch doesn't say it's time to brush teeth yet! Wait, let me set my watch to say it's time to pee! Oh wait, it's Grant calling!

He loves to paint. After crafts - and meals, and restroom breaks - he likes to stand at the sink.
I need to practicing washing my hands.

I know that he'll tip toe up to my room bright and early again tomorrow, with an agenda that does not match my own, but I want to practicing clearing space for his plans even if they clash with my own, to live by the pretend clock on his arm, to paint and do patterings and refold socks, to remember how lucky I am to follow his lead.