We had an excellent extended Christmas holiday and an easy drive home yesterday. For the first two hours of the drive, Paolo played with his new Star Wars figurines. Then he ate lunch, went to sleep, and woke in good cheer. About five hours into the trip, I asked him if he'd like to watch a video, in case he'd forgotten about that screen two feet in front of his face. He declined, citing his preference for "sitting back and relaxing." Once it got dark outside, he watched a couple 30-minute videos, and then we sang and talked and laughed until we got home. He was so good it almost made me want to let him keep all of his new toys. Almost. Paolo removed his pants within five minutes of entering the house, and put up a colossal fight over every single bite of his dinner, so everything is pretty well back to normal. This weekend we are looking forward to a massive toy reorganization and deaccessioning. It's either that or adopt twelve children just so all the toys get played with.
For a certain pair of readers who may be missing the pitter-patter of little feet (and the floor-shaking THUD of those feet jumping off of the furniture), here's a transcript of my bedtime conversation with Paolo last night:
Paolo, with a great sigh: I just really want to go to Grandma and Grandpa's house.
Me: We'll go back again, honey, but we had to come back to our house.
Me: Because this is where we live.
Paolo: I don't like Arkansas. I like Florida.
Me: Florida is where your other grandparents live. You mean Nebraska.
Paolo: I want to live in Abraska.