Sometimes you have to find another way
We’re going to have to go to last week for this one.
Beth had a business trip last Thursday, so she brought the boy over on Wednesday night. While we were making breakfast, Beth called to tell us about the enhanced security because of that British thing. Funny how we slipped into problem-solving mode, with me looking up times for the LimoLiner and the phone numbers for the trains. Almost like we were still something. She ended up on the train, and I told her to make alternate arrangements for coming back. But did she listen? Guess.
The plan was for her to take the 7:00pm shuttle and come by and pick the boy up at 9:00ish. At 6:30 she left a message saying that everything looked OK at LGA. At 6:45 she called to say that her plane was still on the runway in DC and wasn’t likely to get to NY for hours. Clearly, she wasn’t going to make it in time to get the boy at 9:00ish. I resisted the temptation to say “I told you so.” Maybe I didn’t.
I called her when she got in at around midnight. It turns out she rented a car and drove from NYC to Boston. She asked me to bring the boy back to her house as soon as he woke up because she missed him.
“And he probably misses me, too,” she said.
“Actually,” I said, “he hardly mentioned you. He seemed happy to spend the night two nights in a row.”
“Well, still.”
In the morning, I got the boy together, had a little breakfast, and I tried to get him to put his shoes on. Beth called about then. They talked. Then he wouldn’t put his shoes on. He started getting angry.
“I don’t understand why you’re upset. Can you tell me?” I asked in my most controlled caring father tone.
“Shut up, you idiot!” (I think that means “I don’t know.”)
“Are you upset because you have to go back to Momma’s house?”
“Maybe.”
“You know, she missed you very much. She really wants to see you before she goes to work.”
At this point he started trying to punch me. I don’t know what Beth does in these casee. What I do is I grab his fist as he tries to land a punch. Then I look at him and say:
“If you want to punch me, you have to make sure that you’re faster and stronger than I am.”
I’m sure I’m going to pay for that one of these days, but it worked. He stopped trying to punch me and started kicking me. So I got up and stood very close to him so he couldn’t kick.
All of a sudden he calmed down.
“Let’s wrestle,” he said.
So we did. The rules we’ve evolved say that I can’t rise higher than my knees, but that still gives me a lot of room to pick him up and pretend to slam him down. I pin him, and smother his cheek with kisses. Then he squirms away and climbs on my back. I try to buck him off. There’s a lot of raspberries (phthhhht) in each other’s faces. A little bit of head butting. Sometimes he pins me and tries to tickle me. He’s fascinated with butts these days, so I really do have to watch my ass.
We did that for about twenty minutes. He was tired, happy, and smiling. And he was ready to go back to Beth’s house.