All was relatively quiet as I cooked dinner. The monkey was in his highchair, entertaining and amusing himself with place mat activities. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, Jackson's little voice started carrying a tune. I glanced over at him, and to my surprise, he was off in his own baby world quietly babbling a bunch of mumble jumble - only, it had great rhythm and hand gestures. Since I couldn't make out any of the words, my best guess would be Eensy Weensy Spider. It was precious. He stopped immediately when we looked at him, but the moment was priceless. And, at least I know he might have some aptitude for singing now, so I can stop feeling guilty for passing on the tone deaf gene.
That scene of happiness and joy you just read happened last night. This evening was a scene of anarchy. Dad was working late. I walked over to Jack's high chair carelessly balancing dinner and a drink, and I accidentally dropped his entire bowl on the floor. Jackson came running over, grabbed a sample before I could stop him, and preceded to shove it in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in days. I managed to plop him in his highchair as quickly as possible, but I only created a monster by doing so. The rest of the evening went downhill. There was no beautiful singing tonight. There was atrocious screaming that filled the condo and all the units in our building. He was hungry, and he wanted what was on the floor. Calming him down with yogurt and allowing him to scoop it himself was my only salvation. I had a few minutes of quiet. A mess of a lifetime later - more than you can ever imagine, we made it to the tub. Shortly thereafter, bedtime. Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday.
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