Pillow talk


[So, if you want to know what a hard-drive crash looks like, it looks like not blogging for a week. Make that two weeks. While also getting a whole lot of nothing done on other projects. So much fun. Now, however, I am back with a nearly fully restored system, having pondered what it means to be simultaneously reliant on and utterly frustrated by technology. That’s for a different post, though.]

In the meantime, the weather is turning — I caved and turned on the heat on Saturday. But we’ve also been staying warm by cuddling, both at bedtime and in the early mornings before the alarm calls us to the dance of breakfast-get dressed-pack lunches-make beds-stop pinching your brother-tea-shoes shoes shoes ponytail-backpack and out the door. (Some mornings, it’s fairly well choreographed, this dance, with Rachel and I neatly sidestepping each other through the kitchen and the bathroom, each grabbing hold of a specific task and executing it to completion. Other mornings, she is constantly standing in the precise spot I need to be and vice versa, and we call to each other, "Did you…?" and "I need…" while Rowan wanders around with a hairbrush and a novel and Isaac holds an underwear revolt.)

But those cuddles. I love them, not only because of body heat but because it’s a chance to have actual, undistracted, conversations with the kids. And also because, true to form, they say some of the most candid and bizarre things when you finally get them lying still and in the dark. I’ve been jotting down snippets of conversations when I remember to. Here you go:

* * *

Rowan: Who do you think I’ve touched more in my life, you or the cat?

Susan: Um. Probably me.

Rowan: I think so, too. Because, I mean, I was, like, INSIDE you for nine months.

Susan: That’s true. And then I carried you around a lot after that.

Rowan: Yeah. [Reaches over and pats me on the shoulder five times] There. Now I’ve touched you five more times.

* * *

Isaac: You know … you know when it would be really hard for a person to walk, even with crutches?

Susan: When?

Isaac: Well, they would have to have two broken legs, AND two broken arms. And then they couldn’t hold the crutches.

Susan: No, I suppose not.

Isaac: What’s for dinner tomorrow night?

* * *

Susan: You know, you are so very, very precious to me.

Isaac: [after a medium-length pause] And I appreciate that.

* * *

[Both kids end up in our bed on Sunday morning. The usual tussling ensues.]

Rowan: Ow! [Elbows his brother across my body; ends up elbowing me]

Isaac: Ow!

Susan: Rowan! That was my body! And don’t hit!

Rowan: Well, he elbowed me first!

Susan: Well, that doesn’t mean that you should elbow him back. Remember, two wrongs…

Rowan: Yeah, yeah, yeah … don’t make a right.

Susan: [giving him a noogie] Well, you can apologize for hitting, or you can get out of bed.

Rowan: I’ll apologize to him if he apologizes to me.

Isaac: But I didn’t hit him on purpose!

Susan: Well, maybe you could say that you’re sorry that you hit him by accident?

Isaac: [like an automaton] I’msorrythatIhityoubyaccident.

Rowan: Fine. I’m sorry I hit you.

Susan: Now, you could say thank you for apologizing.

Rowan: But he hasn’t said thank you to me!

Susan: You know, you could just say thank you to be nice about it. You don’t have to do everything just because somebody else has or hasn’t done it first. You could be the bigger person.

Rowan: Fine. Thank you, Isaac.

Susan: Awesome.

Rowan: I’m the bigger person! Ha ha ha splat!

* * *

Isaac: [apropos of nothing] So, Lola works at the Copa…?