Picnic

We’ve all been terribly grumpy around here for the past week or two. I fully acknowledge that I’m the source of the grumpitude. The hurry-up-and-wait of preparing for a homebirth is really getting to me in a way that it didn’t last time…not to mention all the little signs my body is giving that itcouldbeanyminute! or not. But it’s rubbing off on JC and Silas, especially Silas. He’s just been an unfocused, dismal mess; not that I’ve been any better, but at least I don’t expect anyone else to fix it for me. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s cutting his second-year molars. He surprised me by doing really well at our small group meal on Friday night. He loves playing with the other kids, and even just a different set of toys makes life a little more fun. I had almost decided to stay home with him, since he had had insufficient naptime that day. I didn’t want to bring our whiny fussiness out in public. I remarked to one of the other parents there that his behavior was a pleasant surprise, and not at all in keeping with how he’d been just hours before. She’s a more experienced parent than I am; her kids are 8 and 10. She said, “I often found that a change of venue did more for shaking my kids out of a funk than anything.”

The next day, Silas was, once again, super grouchy. I was in the middle of making lunch for all of us, and I suddenly had an inspiration. We would have a picnic in the Eeyore House. JC was skeptical (and, let’s be clear, he was probably right, given that I was making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup…not the best picnic food), but he went along with it.

Silas seemed a bit confused at first. Why were we eating in the Eeyore house? We really haven’t done this much, although we have had a few picnics at parks recently. We hadn’t ever just hung out in the Eeyore house together, though.

Once he got over how weird it was, Silas had a great time. He wore his tiger ears (thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!) and got totally covered in tomato soup. That shirt will never be the same again.

The abatement of the fussing was worth it, though. I think we had a solid two or three hours after the picnic that were just filled with happy, mellow play.

I know he’s very young, but I can’t help but hope that he will remember this.