Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The Green-Eyed Monster


Ptolemy is a jealous little beast, and he has a dozen ways to show it.  Spitting, screaming, waking up Tizzy, talking loudly, barking, coloring on things, throwing things, having accidents...

The other day I sighed and said, "My friends are the best!"
Ptolemy immediately reacted.  "No, I'M the best.  Your friends are not the best.  I"M the best."

I quickly reassured him that he is, indeed, the best, and that he is my favorite Ptolemy in the whole world.   Just don't tell him that I have a favorite Tziporah, too.  And a favorite Golda, Ruby, Araceli, Freestone, Xanthe, Scott...

Ptolemy is a glorious age, but a hard one.  Yesterday I was chagrined because Tolly and Abe didn't want to play outside and let me do my projects.  Why would they want to hang out with me?  I'm boring!  I have a bunch of chores to do!  Go have fun!  But they wanted to be right next to me, shrieking with delight, fighting over who has the cutest baby sister and begging for more chocolate chips.

So I sprawled out on the carpet in the sun and told stories about baby kitties named Abe and Tolly, baby cheetahs named Abe and Tolly, baby puppies named Abe and Tolly...you get the idea.  When I ran out of baby animals to tell stories about, the boys scattered.  And I missed them as I did my dumb chores.  I love that Ptolemy wants to be the center of my universe, my North Star, my muse, the apple of my eye.  For ten minutes today, we played a game where Tolly closes his eyes and asks me if I can see the inside of his eyes.  Then he opens them and says, "Now can you?"

Ten minutes of
"Now can you?"
Yes.
Now can you?
No.
Now can you?
Yes.
Now can you?
No.
Now can you?
Yes.
Now can you? 
silence
Mom?  Mom!!!  Don't leave me!  Now can you?

I'm going to miss him so much when he doesn't wonder whether I can see the inside of his eyes.  For now, he's going to make sure I don't have any opportunities to miss him.  I might not be able to see the inside of his eyelids, but I can sure see him...right there, in my face.  All the time.  Truly, I wouldn't have it any other way.  He says he's not my little snugglebug, but he is.  My little green-eyed snugglebug.

2 comments:

Nate said...

Sigh...I can really relate to this post. Such a good mother to play that game with him and tell Abe and Tolly animal stories when I know you have plenty of other pressing things to do.

laurel said...

Maylin is that way too! Unfortunetly, I usually don't handle it as well as you did. YOu are awesome.