Zack was scheduled to have school pictures taken last week. We realized that perhaps we should have his hair cut so that he didn't look like a ragamuffin. Given his past reluctance to have his hair cut, we figured we should start talking it up. His first reaction when we said he might get his hair cut?
And that was his primary concern for the next couple days. He marched into the shop, sa on the seat all by himself, sat completely still while she cut away, and all in all acted like he got his hair cut every day while Rob and I wondered what alien had possessed our son. He didn't even want a second piece of candy--just a lollipop.
And then we were told he wouldn't smile for his pictures.
We went for a walk this past Sunday. I'm not sure why we bother with the stroller anymore. After about 10 minutes of that, Zack announces "out!" and he runs the rest of the way. Literally. He's already training for cross-country, as best I can tell. Of course we stopped at the playground. My boys had fun.
Zack rediscovered his pull toy dog. He was treating it like a real dog, pulling it around, saying "Come on." He had it lie under his chair while he was eating dinner. I asked him what the dog's name was. Without missing a beat he answered "Placido." I recalled that a few days before we'd been watching a Sesame Street episode with a character named Placido who then met and sang with Placido Domingo. I guess he recalled the same thing.
We were lucky enough to be visited by our dear friend Kristen one night last week. Zack asked numerous times to go for a walk, and I had told him numerous times that we couldn't because we had to be there when Kristen arrived. After asking for the umpteenth time, I responded by saying "What did I say?"
"No, that's what you say. What did I say about going for a walk?"
Trouble does not even begin to describe what we're in for.