Brian and I were talking last night about how Aiden uses the word 'work'. Every morning he wakes up and sometime in those first few minutes he will listen to the quiet house and then ask "Dad work?" Lately the questions have been phrased more like statements and he doesn't cry any more that dad is gone for the day. Well, at dinner last night Aiden could tell I was getting ready for something (a friend to come over) so he asked "Mama work?" to see if his interpretation that I was doing something different and might leave was correct. It made us laugh! Looking back on it, I wish I would have explained myself a bit further to him instead of simply saying no, I was staying here. His interpretation of my behaviors was correct, it was his anticipated outcome that was different, but I should have pointed out he was right so he wouldn't doubt himself in the future. Brian and I mused that he must think the word work means you disappear mysteriously but you always come back later.
This morning I traded Aiden his breakfast for his blanket that he loves and snuck it in to the washer. I had a doll as a child so I am compassionate when it comes to objects of attachment and I always run the washer on it's shortest cycle and dry the blanket first by itself so Aiden isn't without it for long. Irregardless, the washer hadn't quite finished the rinse cycle when he noticed it was gone. He whimpered 'blanket' as he rushed through the house, checking his crib, the playroom and the kitchen while I quickly slipped the now-washed blanket into the dryer. I tried to comfort him, knowing a meltdown was fast approaching and wondering if there was any way to hurry the drying along. All of a sudden, Aiden ran crying to the front door, pulled back the blinds and silently stared out. With more sadness in his voice than I have ever heard he simply and defeatedly stated "Blanket Work" as he watched the gray storm clouds pass outside. After a minute he calmly put the blinds back in place and sulked up to me. He stopped at my feet, gave me the saddest, most pleading look and with complete faith that I could deliver, said "Mama, want blanket." I scooped him up and was in the laundry room getting his dry-enough blanket so quickly that he didn't realize what had happened until he felt the familiar fleecy texture in is hands. His laugh and the way he clutched his blanket and snuggled in to me totally made my day! I just hope tomorrow he doesn't expect me to magically pull daddy out of the dryer...
Monday, November 10, 2008
Ask for the impossible and you just might get it! I knew what I wanted. I knew exactly what I wanted. Bright, cheerful, vibrant & playful with artistic angles, candid shots, a handsome photo of Brian by himself smiling (good luck) and a couple family shots for christmas cards. I wanted the impossible. The photos we recieved stunned us both, me gasping in delight at every single one while Brian looked over my shoulder, grinning widely in awe:
Sorry, no sneak peeks of Aiden's best shots! I want to be there when our moms first see the prints to hear their gasps and see the look on their faces. Can you tell we had fun at this shoot? Saturday morning was gorgeous, everyone was in a great mood and it shows. Now I have to pick which ones I want to print and buy a slew of new frames because I simply can't part with the pictures we took three months ago, either!
Kelsey, thank you. That word isn't even enough. Thank you for giving me everything I wanted and more. You captured the playfulness of our family perfectly and the candids of Aiden take my breath away. Had I known this is what was going to be on the disk, I would have tipped you another hundred. Seriously.