Jake, I love him to pieces, but sometimes this year of twoness can be a bit much. It was a few days of feeling like all I said to him was, "No, sir!" and, "No, sir...we don't pull Max's tail", and, "No, sir... we only color on paper" Ya know, the uje.
So, I was needing to pull out the reserves of really enjoying my boy again. Like, whoa.
We got to class early because we're still, relatively, new to the area. But, Jake? He's pumped from the word Go. I open the door to pull him out of his car seat and he's smiling like he's in on some joke. And, I? Was pretty ok with it. Totes.
He holds my hand as we walk up the sidewalk to the Kindermusik building and, as soon as we get inside the door, he's off like 3 foot rocket. He sees the teacher-- high-fives her real quick, sees the receptionist--throws her a spastically happy nod. Ya know. THE UJE.
He, literally, sprints back to the actual room where all the Kindermusikin' will be taking place and is, inordinately, thrilled about the big, colored squares that are used for kids' playrooms. They have those little bumpies on them so Jake exploded confetti all over the place. I mean, this kid was thisclose to roundhouse-kickin' his excitement all over town.
Miss Lisa puts out some toys for Jake, and the other kid/mama duo that got there early, so Jake takes a break from sprinting back and forth across his multi-colored wonderland, like he's on Baby Gap Crack, to take a look at these toys bestowed up on him. This is when my pride hit the ceiling.
The other little boy, who's much smaller than J--as most kids are, was playing with some weird learn-to-connect-stuff-to-other-stuff type toy, but Jake wanted it because obviously. All things are his. He's two. Anyway, he wanted to see it so Jake, my sweet little boy, walks up to him, very calmly, and tries to take it from him ever-so-gently. Not at all in the realm of, "GIVE IT TO ME! IT'S MINE! THIS. IS. SPARTA.!!!!" He was sweet and gentle and completely accommodating when I took the weird connector thing out of his hand and explained that we don't take things from other people's hands. For a brief moment, I considered ripping the chest of my shirt, like a bag of chips, beating my chest, and asserting my dominance in parenting. But, other people might've not taken that well. Psss, you know how 'others' can be...
More kids filtered into the room and Jake, who's not a daycare-goer or a sibling, acted like he's known these people his whole life. Other people want to play with the same toys he was? Ain't no thang. People in "his" space? The more the merrier. He was happy, and sweet, and completely fine with abundance of change around him. I fell so much deeper in love with him. I, literally, had tears in my eyes, and the biggest smile evah strapped to my cranium. It was intense happiness.
So, we spent our 45 minutes singing songs, and reading books, and learning that keys are wickedawesome instruments. It was fabulous. I'm pretty positive I imploded small puppies inside my heart.
We skipped out of there with irritating amounts of happiness, picked up a few things, and had lunch together, where he sat next to me like some big boy who's way too cool for school. It was the greatest day to ever exist. He should've asked for a pony. As for me? I cannot wait for next week's class!
But, one last interesting thing happened:
Whenever we were singing a song, or clapping in unison, or patting our thighs (to make the train sounds. Doiy), Jake needed to run around the room to participate. Doing so in my lap was too mainstream. But, the boy picked up a straggler along the way. Some little blonde girl, Sophia, followed him every place he went. I almost put this as my status on Fbeezy:
We just left Jake's first Kindermusik class of the semester and some little girl, with obviously impeccable taste, developed quite the crush on my boy and wouldn't leave his side.
So, I had to cut a bitch.
But, ya know, other people... ;-)
The point is: He got game.