Thursday, August 16, 2012

Looking for a Meal and a Fight

Gavi....Gavi Gavi Gavi...

He is my medium child.  When he was born some 12 years ago, he came out looking for a meal and a fight.  He knew how to nurse, and was happy to do so.  He hit 20 pounds in six months only on a natural diet.  He has slimmed down quite a bit since then, but is still willing to take a risk with his food.  I am teaching him the barbecue.  I said to a waitress today that he should only have a tiny bit of hot sauce on his sandwich.  He demanded to know why.

As he learned to move, he decided he really liked wrestling.  I used to wrestle with Jesse.  Suddenly, this baby would be in the middle of it.  That part has not left him.

He is also my comedian.  Almost seven years ago, my then five-year old came into the kitchen.  He stuck his head in the cabinet and GENTLY closed the door.  He then yelled at the top of his lungs: "the cabinet is eating my head."  He removed his head from the cabinet, pulled his shirt up over his head, and then started walking around the kitchen yelling: "I have no head.  The cabinet ate my head."

He has left whoopee cushions in dark places where he knew I would walk.  Even now, I risk ambush from a flying stuffed animal if I walk too close to his bedroom door.

He likes tools.  I once had to put something away in his night table drawer.  I opened it up to find several screwdrivers.

And his love of tools combined this week with his ongoing need to wrestle me into submission.  I was sitting on a tree stump earlier this week.  Gavi came over and sat on my shoulders.  Then, he grabbed my head, and said "lefty-loosy righty-tighty", and started twisting my head back and forth.

I am offering him

Good night all.


1 comment:

  1. I would take you up on your offer. After all, he's pretty cute, and mine often talks about wanting a brother. Then again, on any given day, I'm glad to offer her up, also cheap, so that might defeat the purpose of taking yours. Oh, well.