Sunday, October 19, 2014

A Lego airplane and an hour of quiet

When Milo stopped napping (sooooooo long ago), we instituted something new around here, and we like to call it "feet off the floor time." Don't give me any credit for this. It was all Jen's idea. You know this is true because if I had developed this concept it would have been called "leave me the h*** alone time" and you just can't have that when little people are involved. But I digress...

Milo spends a while in his bed every afternoon with a few designated toys, books, whatever. He can, of course, lie down and take a nap (this has happened maybe two times ever, but I still cling to the possibility), but most often he just gets some down time (and by default, and only in theory, so do I). He's been super into regular-sized legos lately, and he has a little airplane set with a pilot that someone gave him. I have never put this airplane together - Nate has done it until today when Milo figured it out. He was thrilled with it and decided that it was the only thing he wanted to take for feet off the floor time.

Nate and I were catching up on a tv show in the living room, and after about 30 minutes I heard, "Mommy! Mommy," growing in volume until I finally went in to check out what Milo was doing. Well, he had broken apart his plane and couldn't remember how he put it together in the first place. I decided that this was the perfect teaching moment and geared up for an encouraging pep talk.

"Milo, it doesn't matter how you put that plane together. What matters is that you never give up, you keep trying. And what you end up with will be just right because it will be exactly what you imagined. I can't wait to see what it is, and I am so proud of you for doing this building all by yourself! Just remember - it won't be wrong no matter how you do it because it will be your creativity..." That's the gist of it. If you're a parent, I'm sure you've done this one before...

Milo looked at me with the hugest, most sincere eyes and a bright smile, shook his head, and answered, "Sure, Mommy." I hugged him and felt incredibly successful for one brief second. And then, as I walked out the door...

"Oh, could you send Daddy in here?'

At least I tried, right?

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