And the Winner Is

While we are all reluctant to admit it, it is undeniably true that, at times, parenting is less of a cooperative endeavor than it is a competition.

We've been needing to cut Eli's and Nate's claws, I mean, fingernails for far too long. While I was in the other room (doing the dishes, thank you very much) Susie tried to cut E's. She begged, pleaded, offered a check ("A what?" Well, that's a separate post) a check for just one fingernail even. There was no cutting, only whining, complaining, and crying, and Eli wasn't behaving well either.

Enter daddy. I offered to cut his nails and he walked across the bed to where I was sitting, handed me the clippers, sat in my lap, and politely held out his fingers so I could cut them. Mission accomplished.

This made Susie mad, and she started to hit me. Repeatedly. On the shoulder and on the back. The hitting was more like a massage from my perspective, but that's just between you and me. But what should happen a few minutes later? Eli comes up to me and starts hitting me. Repeatedly. On the shoulder and the back.

I call this one a draw.




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Train

We've taken Eli on the muni trains a couple of times in the last few weeks, and each time it, well, it ended in tears. Started in tears, too. And the middle had more than it's share of tears.

But today, I kept talking about how awesome the train is, and when it arrived, he was excited to see it. For the entire twenty minute ride downtown, his face looked exactly like this:




Nate is now getting into wiggling, and batting at the toys hanging above his play mat. But mostly he likes to be held by his mommy, and hopefully not kicked by his brother.




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Location:Powers Ave,San Francisco,United States