The boys have been playing little games that involve health and hygiene, and in general, "feeling you better," which is their take on the sentiment of helping someone feel better.
|The multi-purpose toilet/astronaut helmet|
I've been trying half-heartedly to potty train them over the past couple weeks, but they still have not done any of their business in the toilet and they are still terrified to sit on it. But they love to play that they are going to the bathroom. They sit on a container we use for toys and pretend to go potty. Oddly, they use the same container upside-down as an astronaut's helmet when they play space, so that's nice. Today Clark “went potty” in the container on the couch. He waved goodbye to the potty and “flushed it away.” He then requested that I get into the "tub," and motioned to the floor next to the couch. As soon as I sat down, Cal ran to the bathroom to get the stool I sit on when I bathe them. He put the stool up next to me and washed my hair. Clark gave me toys he called bath toys and cleaned them up for me when I was ready to get out. Cal covered me in a pretend lizard towel (his bath towel) and then Clark covered me in a pretend duck towel (his bath towel). Clark pretended to change my diaper while Cal rubbed pretend lotion on his hands and put it on my face. It was quite a refreshing break.
A not-so-refreshing habit that Clark has picked up is attacking boogers in noses with wipes. Now, these are typically imaginary boogers, and the nose is mine or Brian’s or Cal’s and it hurts. He isn’t playing when he does it. He squints his eyes and scrunches his lips together and focuses in on the offending nose. It’s fantastic. So fantastic that even the stinging sensation of inhaling a wipe is worth it just for a second. I wish I had a video camera in my nose (Hmm, never said that before) to capture his intense focus. The other day he grabbed the bridge of Brian’s nose with his other hand for leverage and grunted, “Almost got it,” (relieved sigh), “There we go.”
They’ve also taken to pretending to put in and take out contacts. They first rub their hands with imaginary Purell “like Daddy does!” before they tell me to lay down so they can take my contact out. “Great job, Mommy! You held still!”
The most prevalent game is still the sick game. Often their stuffed animals and toys have inexplicable maladies that must remedied by little tiny doses of medicine with the baby spoons that they take out of the drawer by themselves or medicine droppers. They use their high little baby voices to say things like, “It’s okay, Little Ducky. You’ll be okay. I feel you better.” The injured animal always requires a kiss, medicine, or petting from Brian and me also. Lately they insist that I tell the patient, “Your mommy is coming soon.”
|An entire cast of zoo critters who need medical care via medicine droppers|
Today Cal is sick and Clark has been helping "feel him better" all morning. First he wanted to sing a song to him. He sang Jump Up, a Dan Zanes' favorite, only modifying a few of the lyrics, and then said he was going to make up his own song called "Farmer's Market." It was lovely-- all about a shark eating candles. (Duh! What else would a song with that title be about?) I think it actually did helped Cal feel better because he was smiling. Later, after Cal woke up from a nap, Clark propped up his guitar and played it like an upright bass and sang another song. A Jimmy Buffet song, of course. Hopefully Clark's continued nurturing care will help feel Cal better today.