Play With Me.

We’ve got a precious few days left of staycation before school starts next week and I woke up this morning wondering what we should do. We’ve got plans tomorrow to go to the museum, Thursday and Friday are shore days (crossing our fingers for no rain) and the weekend is…well…it’s the weekend. And although Family Days are nice, they’re not the same as staycation days. The rhythm is different.

I am an excellent list-maker. I could make a to-do list and let this be a to-do day. It would certainly make the coming days easier if we had groceries and a clean car. It would be a good idea to make a meal plan and weed the old t-shirts out of The Who’s drawers. It would probably be really smart and useful to make a list and start checking things off, but I’m having a hard time getting behind that plan.

I started this post while The Who was watching a show. He got bored with it within 15 minutes and started wreaking havoc. That’s what happens when he gets bored. At least that’s my experience of it. He starts touching all. the. things. Just touching them. Moving the clickers. Pushing on the ottoman with his knees. Tossing pillows around. Holding the straw of his cup between his teeth and swinging it around. Havoc.

So, knowing that the brief respite of show-watching was over, I asked him if he wanted to keep watching a show or do something else. “Do something else,” he quickly answered. “Play with you.”

Play with you. This is not on my list of things to do today. This did not even make it onto the string of possibilities. It never does, actually. I do not like the open-ended “play with you” business. I am glad to take him places and interact there (the playground, the museum, restaurants, the library) but “play with you” is the kiss of death. I just don’t want to. I wish I could round up some kids to sate his playing needs, but the fact is that that won’t even do it. It’s not that he wants to play. He wants to play with me.

I told him I needed a few minutes to finish what I was writing and I suggested that he go draw or play Legos in the meantime, but he insisted that he wanted to “relax” with me, which mostly consists of him doing small things to draw attention to himself. Big sighs. Humming songs. None of this does anything to endear himself to me or make playing with him seem any more appealing, yet all of it is indicative of what he really needs, which is more of my attention.

I’ve got no end to this post. I am just continuing to write in order to stave off the inevitable. I’m sure the day won’t end up to be as unbearable as I am fearing. I’ll keep you posted; I know you’re on the edge of your seats…

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