Thursday, February 01, 2007

The Boy Thespian

Yesterday around 3 PM the phone rang. It wasn't WOTF; it was the shoe repair place telling me that Mark's shoes were ready for pick-up. Why are they calling me? I wondered. Why aren't they calling Mark?

This morning around 10 PM the phone rang. It wasn't WOTF; it was Candee Cole giving me a heads-up that the Unitarian Church wouldn't mind having a budget for next year's CUUPs activities. We exchanged other pleasantries, and she ended the call with "Well, I'd better get off the phone because you're probably worried that WOTF is trying to call you right now." She must know other writers.

In other news, Arthur woke up around 7:15 this morning. Whew, what a relief. It really makes a difference to my day if I can have about twenty to thirty minutes lead-time without having to worry about him. I think, though, that his "boy gene" has turned on or something; he's been in "destructo-mode" or "science is figuring nature out by breaking it" mode. Flip books in general are in peril right now, so is my harp, the kalimba, windows, and probably Muriel the Needy Irritant.

But the most troubling is that he'll say, "bonk" and then hit his head against something. This was fine when it was the futon mat in his room, but he's generalized to things like the hardwood floor, doorknobs, and his highchair tray. About half the time he'll hit his head and then start to cry. And then he'll say "bonk" again. About half the time that he's crying, you can point to him and say, "Faker!" and he'll smile.

In other thespian events, Arthur and I have a schtick where I'll say to him, "Oh my page boy, what have you brought Cleopatria, your queen? What message from Mark Anthony?" and he'll grab his fabric toy snake and bring it up to my neck. I'll fake shriek, and maybe add something like, "Oh, how sharper than a serpant's tooth!" or "Oh, come to my happy bosom." We've been doing this a while, and now Arthur can almost say 'Cleopatria.' I suppose that we're going to have trouble if we ever visit a reptile house or the Egyptian wing of the MET.

Oh, and before I forget; Arthur seems to have a much stronger preference for using his left hand when he draws with crayons or the aqua-doodle pen. Now if I can just keep him from putting them into his mouth...
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