Kicked Out

My son is having a rough day. Being sick, short nap, carted around in the car this afternoon, then being rudely awoken when we got home after only 30 minutes worth of nap, then not being allowed to play with all the fun instruments daddy has laying all over the house.

So maybe he is just trying to get back at me for not letting him play the piano.

Mommy left to run some stuff out to church tonight, so we get a little daddy and son time. I thought, no problem. We'll play trains, watch some barney, play some guitar, we're all set. But then Aiden hears the word "drums" and wants to go down to the basement to play. Ok, so daddy son time is still on, we can play drums and sing downstairs. So we get the drumsticks, get the drums all situated.

"stairs" Aiden points toward the stairs.

"You want to go upstairs now buddy?"

"No."

"Ok, what do you want?"

At this point, he comes over and grabs my hand pulling me toward the stairs.
"You want to go take a bath?" I ask.

He pushes me toward the stairs and points up them. "Stairs" he says again.

"You want daddy to go upstairs?"

"Uh-huh."

"You mean daddy can't listen to you play drums?"

"Bye"

Subtle. He gets his subtlety from me, I think.
So what's the deal? Am I suddenly an embarassment? Are we suddenly afriad to play in front of other people? The kid is two for crying out loud. And now I'm upstairs, and I can hear him downstairs banging on drums.

It's actually not a bad system. as long as I hear drums, I know he is still breathing and not getting into trouble. When the drums stop, I go check on him. Of course, he usually just repeats the "stairs" directive for me to go elsewhere. such is life