Kelly and I have an ongoing joke about how if Cole got plopped down in someone else's house he would not thrive. And that while we really enjoy some of our friends' children we are glad they are not ours. We would not be good at parenting them. I am good at parenting my children. Call it some sort of weird cosmic wavelength we're all on where I understand my own DNA and my own DNA "gets" me.
Yesterday, Cole finally got out of the house for a few minutes of play while the temperature was briefly above freezing. I took two soccer balls into the sideyard which he did not want. He mostly amused himself with a brick. And trying to climb through the bars in the fence to get to the front of the building.
So after taking the dog in I opened the gate and we walked. Not that crazy toddler manic run. We casually strolled down the sidewalk. Never pausing. Just a constant, slow, purposeful exploration. Across the alley holding dad's hand. Down to the diner at the corner. I carried him across the busy main street.
Where he quickly became interested in the steam coming up from the pipes at a construction site next to the hospital. Figures.
Muddy. Fan of standing on chairs. Never once considering the independence involved with wandering down the street virtually without me. I'm pretty much convinced that if I hadn't been watching him he'd have ended up in the underground garage of the senior citizens home down the block.
He's that kind of kid.
Yesterday, Cole finally got out of the house for a few minutes of play while the temperature was briefly above freezing. I took two soccer balls into the sideyard which he did not want. He mostly amused himself with a brick. And trying to climb through the bars in the fence to get to the front of the building.
So after taking the dog in I opened the gate and we walked. Not that crazy toddler manic run. We casually strolled down the sidewalk. Never pausing. Just a constant, slow, purposeful exploration. Across the alley holding dad's hand. Down to the diner at the corner. I carried him across the busy main street.
Where he quickly became interested in the steam coming up from the pipes at a construction site next to the hospital. Figures.
Muddy. Fan of standing on chairs. Never once considering the independence involved with wandering down the street virtually without me. I'm pretty much convinced that if I hadn't been watching him he'd have ended up in the underground garage of the senior citizens home down the block.
He's that kind of kid.