The last few weeks have been like boot camp for the boy.
He's been running, jumping, swimming, bike riding, ball kicking, swinging, kite flying and doing calisthenics.
No, he hasn't been invited to join the army.*
This new regimen of all action! all the time! is a last-ditch effort by Bear and I before we break down and start writing to boarding schools in the Northern Territories. (And his father won't let me go all Monks of New Skete and run him behind the car.)
Cass, you see, has decided that he need never sleep again.
And we are strenously protesting, hence the go baby go! marathon of sports and play.
So far, it's worked reasonably well. So today, there was a lot of running and jumping, and then a lot of this:
And we went for a walk. And then he showed me how he can snorkel in the tub. And then bed. Three stories, a pee, a drink of water, lots of kisses, his nightlight on, his fan going. Beau and Charlie snuggled in. Prayers.
Ahhhh, I think, exhaling. There is silence. Girlie is sacked out, boyo is headed off to dreamland. Mentally high-fiving myself, I flip on the taps for a shower.
But I'm wrong.
I'm decidedly too old for this.
* PLEASE click on that link if you have kids. PLEASE. Incredibly scary stuff.