Turtle can walk now.
Horray for Turtle!
Turtle can now climb onto the couch.
He can open the toddler-proof containers. He broke the child-locks on my cabinets. He adores cleaning the toilet with the toilet brush and his head. He goes on his tippy-toes to empty the silverware onto the floor and he broke all of my favorite mugs.
He smiles and snuggles and then pulls all of the wires out of their sockets. He broke my cellphone and got stuck under the bunkbed. He tries to climb up the ladder to the top bunk. He climbs into the bathtub and turns on the water.
I have never sent a child to gan until they were three years old. I have always worked around this, around having them home. I have catered from home, babysat, directed plays with an infant on my lap, tutored with the baby between my knees, Typed stories with one finger while feeding a toddler with the other hand.
Outdoorsman watched Turtle for two hours on Shabbas while I napped. I slept so soundly, I did not hear the noise that a toddler makes when he pulls the sandwhich maker out of the cabinet and pulls the milk pitcher off the counter.
I woke up and stumbled into the living room. "Thanks so much. That was great," I said to my beloved helpmeet.
My beloved helpmeet met my eyes. "Send him to gan," he uttered.
"There is no gan on shabbas," I laughed. Silly husbands.
"No, really. How do you do this every day? No wonder you're all frazzled lately."
I bristled. I am not all frazzled lately. "I am not all frazzled lately," I countered. I am totally all frazzled lately.
"Seriously, D. You should send him out. A few times a week. He'll love it, you know he will."
And you know what the problem is? He will. He will love it. He loves other babies. He is just so bored at home with me, and I can't take him out because he keeps getting colds and it's freezing out now, so I try to play with him but he needs more than that. He needs friends.
It's another expense, though. It's a lot of money. I was happy calculating how much money I was saving by having him home and counting it as money that I was earning by not spending it. If that makes sense. I do the same for my lack of cleaning help, and low-cost dinners. I'm proud of being a low maintanance wife. But how can I know which corners I'm not supposed to cut?
Well, let's look at this logically.
He would love it. And he would.
We'd find the money. Outdoorsman said it's feasable.
What else is left, that I'm still fighting this?
Me. I'm left.
I keep my kids home until they're three.
It makes me cry to think that no matter how altruistic I think I'm being, everything boils down to this.