fair game

out of state

We left Ohio last week, high on optimism and low on reality. Through traveling, though, we were reminded that things don't have to go right to go well. We loved visiting family and celebrating another Herbert wedding, mining for Herkimer diamonds and exploring Moss Island, hiking Port Jervis and floating down the Delaware.
I want to remember the way Hank took naps in the middle of everything - in the car, in a raft, in the middle of a mine. I want to remember decorating ideas from Cooper's farmhouse, late night bourbon toasts after the rehearsal dinner, waking up to fresh fruit salad and fidget stick tournaments, an almost too-close encounter with a porcupine.
I am grateful for uncles who take the boys sight-seeing, and hotels with pools for travel weary kids.
I am super glad nobody fell into a glacial pothole. And I am glad to be home.

race car brains with bicycle brakes

Tolliver turned six and a half this summer. We made a little deal out of the day. Mostly because it seems that we can’t do much else right, and he feels compelled to complain about lots of things: The specific t-shirt he wants to wear isn’t clean. The music in the car is too loud, the television is not loud enough. I didn’t bring the right snack for him. Or the right towel! His water bottle is not cold enough. He doesn’t want to go out for dinner — he’d rather stay home and ride bikes. The tape isn't sticking right, the Legos aren't clicking right, the watermelon is cut the wrong way.

Most people who know Tolliver well also know the story, from several years ago, of the front porch flowers versus the umbrella.
We had a similar situation last week, on a day when temperatures neared ninety degrees. Tollie sat in the shade for over an hour, watching his brothers play with other children in the fountains. He could not participate because I had not packed the right swimming trunks for him, and he did not want get his clothes wet.

I wonder if he came with red hair as some sort of warning label? Of course he’s a super charming, charismatic, polite boy most of the time. And it’s really just us, his parents, who are on the receiving end of his negativity. His mood at home is still mostly analogous to a slot machine - we don't always know when we’ll be lucky enough to win cherries and cheerfulness. We are eager to learn how best to respond to his moods so that we don’t add fuel to the fire, and so we can navigate this phase with humor and understanding.

Sometimes I'm able to detect a faint shift in his face and know religiousness has overtaken him, so I try not to give him anything to push back against. He will invent arguments if he is feeling belligerent enough. Like yesterday, seriously, he DID NOT wake up Tucker at too early o'clock, he WAS JUST ASKING TUCKER A QUESTION. NOT WAKING HIM UP!

Harsh words have the predictable effect of heightening Tollie's boldness, almost in defiance of them. His voice becomes louder, laden with panic and frustration, his anger a larger revolt against the loss of control or the humiliation of being wrong or the increased pressure of responsibility. He has an underdeveloped brain, and at six years old, an overdeveloped desire to be in charge, to court danger.

Recently one grandmother explained that Tollie's brain is developing at such a quick rate, the ‘wiring’ and functionality may be temporarily defunct, the neurological workings unsettled as they adjust to the growth. She asked me to try to see my six and  half year old in the same light that I see my toddler. When my toddler is cranky, I don’t get mad at him, I try to figure out why he’s cranky. Maybe he’s tired, maybe he’s hungry, maybe he’s been in the car too long and he is restless. Maybe my school-age child is too.
There are lots of developing brains around here. Including my own.

Tolliver put together a putting green challenge in the basement the other day, and built a golf club out of Lego bricks. I helped, supplying materials and testing the course, watching him create and encouraging his ideas. I think attention might be the purest form of generosity. He thinks pizza and a consta-clean favorite shirt are. I stocked up on extra pepperoni and laundry detergent and am doing my best to keep his love tank full.

so much to say

At some point since his 6am wakeup, Hank discovered a winter hat, and squeezed into it before breakfast. Climbing up to sit at the counter, he requests double* eggies, something that may be typically relegated to a holiday menu, but has, at our house, become almost an every day thing. I mean, it's hard to resist such a reasonable request.

Recently he called me to his room in the middle of the night, telling me there had been a very large racket outside his window. He reminds himself often that Mommy and Daddy keep safe Hanky. Especially from purple snakes.

He wonders regularly whether we're hearing that sound? A lawnmower, a helicopter, the garage door, a song, a very large racket outside... You hearing that sound too?

His favorite color is cyan. We had to look up that word, when he identified the color between green and blue in the wooden rainbow he builds with. We're not really sure where he learned the term, but he notices it all over the place. He was particularly excited to discover - on the cover of a bathtub book - the letter H in the word "BATH" in his favorite shade: Look! A cyan H, a cyan H!

At bedtime, after we've read books and done big hug, little hug, he looks up from my lap, big brown eyes tired yet hopeful, and says Please sing me a song.
And again, I can't resist.

*deviled

a flamboyance of flamingos

and a LOT of really happy outdoor time at the new Franklin Park Conservatory Chidren's Garden.