Yesterday Clark had a nap. He was falling apart completely over - actually, I can't remember: something minor like the inability of his spiderman figure to bend at the waist, and he wanted his blankie, which was momentarily missing. I went to find the blankie and when I came back he was in his bed under the covers. "I'm just resting, Mama," he said.
The nap was lovely. I slept with him, a warm and cozy afternoon rest, and in the background through the cloud of sleep I heard Frances from her room singing Coming Round the Mountain, Itsy Bitsy Spider, and Simon and Garfunkel. She apparently was performing; the crowd cheered after every song.
Because of the nap, Clark was not at all tired at bedtime. So very not at all tired that after the presidential debate was fully under way, around 9:30, he appeared in our family room. Mitch and I were too engrossed in the debate to take him back upstairs, so we let him sit with us while we watched. Among other things, Clark decided he's going to be a president for Halloween. He wants a suit and shirt and tie, and a little american flag pin on the lapel.
The rule in our house is that after 8pm is grown up time, which means if you happen to still be up, it's not playtime. You have to sit on your bottom rather than fling yourself over the back of the couch, and no toys. Clark was left with studying Obama and Romney, which he found pretty interesting. Here's some of his running commentary:
Does everyone get to be president when they grow up? I want to be a president.
I'm already a kind of president because I almost know everything. Do presidents know everything?
I might not do what they're doing. Because they're fighting.
I might want it to stay the same president. Til I die.
Mommy? I might be on Barak Obama's side.
The nap was lovely. I slept with him, a warm and cozy afternoon rest, and in the background through the cloud of sleep I heard Frances from her room singing Coming Round the Mountain, Itsy Bitsy Spider, and Simon and Garfunkel. She apparently was performing; the crowd cheered after every song.
Because of the nap, Clark was not at all tired at bedtime. So very not at all tired that after the presidential debate was fully under way, around 9:30, he appeared in our family room. Mitch and I were too engrossed in the debate to take him back upstairs, so we let him sit with us while we watched. Among other things, Clark decided he's going to be a president for Halloween. He wants a suit and shirt and tie, and a little american flag pin on the lapel.
The rule in our house is that after 8pm is grown up time, which means if you happen to still be up, it's not playtime. You have to sit on your bottom rather than fling yourself over the back of the couch, and no toys. Clark was left with studying Obama and Romney, which he found pretty interesting. Here's some of his running commentary:
Does everyone get to be president when they grow up? I want to be a president.
I'm already a kind of president because I almost know everything. Do presidents know everything?
I might not do what they're doing. Because they're fighting.
I might want it to stay the same president. Til I die.
Mommy? I might be on Barak Obama's side.
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