My family came up for our yearly pilgrimmage to Plum Island and, for the fist time since we move here, I am able to spend the Friday of the trip with them. I could feel myself start o relax as I drove away from Lawrence. By the time I crossed the bridge onto Plum Island, the rest of the world was far from my mind. Until I walked into the house.
There is a small loft area that overlooks the living room that has a slatted railing and a slanted roof. It’s the perfect play area for someone pushing 33 inches. Alledgedly, Robbie had been happily playing up there for an hour. I, however, have seen no proof of that.
As soon as I walked through the door, I heard him screaming. He seems to be getting a little too good at that. We went upstairs to get him, and he didn’t want to come out. But he continued screaming… I’m actually not too sure what to do about the screaming. I honestly can’t tell if he’s in some sort of pain from teething or growing or if he’s just being a brat.
We had the problem partially solved when I opened a bottle of water for him to drink. He nearly downed the whole thing. And at dinner, he practiced tossing penne pasta in the air with a fork. He’s a very adept food handler. And to think the server looked at me like I was crazy when I asked for the pasta without and sauce or butter. Could you imagine the disaster that would have been?