Week of July 7, 2004

(when mad at us) “You no go to my house!”
(cueing me about my role in our drama, which starts when Owen the triceratops egg, hatches)
“It’s good to meet you, triceratops”
“Those are nice horns you have, triceratops”
(thereupon, he rubs his forehead against mine, in a Eskimo-like dinosaur greeting)
“Would you like some plant pie?”
(sometimes, the triceratops hatchling cries like a baby)
“Wah, wah, wah. Triceratops needs his bottle”

“I need more track, please. I said, ‘I need more track, PLEASE’”
“Thank you!”
(re-living a book on manners he likes) “I burped. Excuse me!”

For the second weekend in a row, Owen has seemed difficult. Overtired, perhaps, is a better description for the state he’s in. Difficult, changeable, in motion – he’s taxing us on every level. He’s now more verbal and negotiations are less linear, less straightforward. I thought speaking would enhance our interactions and they do, when he’s rested. When he’s overtired or hungry or crabby, they’re just another way to express his frustration and outrage. What is it that my friend Vivian says – you spend so much time yearning for them to talk, the downside is that suddenly they start expressing their opinions more vehemently.

I’m not sure what’s been up with our weekends. He’s done very well with the family visits, being adorable and laughing and completely himself. It’s more that he’s just got a constant sleep deficit, and he just has less and less stockpiled reserves to insulate him from being overtired. As the day wears on, he copes less well with everything and his crabbiness level goes up.

It doesn’t help that he’s more interested in sticking around the house in the morning lately. We’re used to being up and about fairly early, every day. Mind you, Owen is up, he just doesn’t have the same drive to run around outside, the same need to go into town. And I want my coffee, dammit! Geez. Sometimes the prospect of breakfast lures him out. We don’t mind feeding him at home (except I miss my coffee), but it’s more that he wants to stay and play AND go out. When we only have time to do one thing, he gets unhappy with his choices.

Fortunately, his love of packing up often acts as a lure to get him out the door. Especially with the nice new backpack that Vivian gave him (the newness still thrills him!). I’m embarrassed sometimes to use his love of packing against him, and a little scared that he has such a deep love that it will distract him from a power struggle, like a dog suddenly smelling a really good smell. We’ll be fussing with getting him out the door, and then one of us will suddenly bring up which trains he wants to bring, and out goes the struggle, replaced by the joy of packing.

Things to hit when I revise this page: How Owen is like me, Parade, Candy, Balloon, Pies, Worms, Sleeping later twice, Waiting for us with Ritz cracker

 

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