While Sleepwalking has not produced the desired effect of a nap, I march on for my own health – only I’ve recently been carrying Farrah AND pushing Arlo.
I’m nearly dead.
On a recent high heat index day, Arlo was very rosy-cheeked and moving slowly. What was most troubling is that he was quiet. It was really hot so I offered him a ride in the buggy and he took it.
He has never looked back.
I didn’t use a stroller in Bermuda. Unless you’re in the tiny “downtown” there are no sidewalks on which to stroll. I wore Arlo until he could walk and then he walked. Toddled. Ambled. Dawdled. The beauty of being a Stay At Home Mom was that I had nowhere to be and was in no hurry to get there. This is also the curse.
Fast forward to Sleepwalking and Arlo has gotten very comfortable in that stroller, hot or not. I am grateful for the extra calories burned, but . . . no. The stroller or buggy is brought as a back-up for the baby/for rain/to carry a lunch bag/transport a sprained ankle — it is not for Arlo’s highly energetic and able body.
Then this happened:
That’s my 3-1/2-year-old in the stroller with his balance bike in back. Here’s me carrying Farrah and pushing all that nonsense at the same time:
In order to woo him out of the stroller I’ve been walking his bike to school so that he can ride it home. Fabulous! Fun! Fast! It has been for the most part a pleasant time spent together. The other day however I asked Arlo to bike on my right side (curb side) for safety. He insisted on left. Repeat. I finally used my body and stroller to contain him to the right and with that maneuver he took off – straight ahead. I thought “Great!” but then he didn’t stop. I reminded him to stop at the top of the sidewalk. He didn’t stop. I shouted “STOP!” twice more. He didn’t stop and was now out of sight. This is the area he was approaching:
I pushed the stroller into the grass and took off running with an already frazzled Farrah in the Bjorn. I caught him, got him off the bike and carried it back to the stroller. He followed, bathed in tears and screams. “I wanted to be far AWAY from youuuuuu!” It didn’t stop there and to spare my child embarrassment, lets just say what he did next was both physically aggressive, demeaning towards me and frightening for Farrah. I revoked his bike privileges and assigned him the stroller seat which he was only too happy to accommodate. I cursed myself thinking he should MOST DEFINITELY BE WALKING but it was more important to get Farrah moving and get home. I was fuming having to push him and his bike all the way home. Livid. Talk about insult to injury.
Silence the whole way home. His act of contrition is always silence.
When cooler heads prevailed we talked about the bike, about safety and about EVEN IF YOU ARE MAD you still need listen to Mom or Dad – you can still be mad. Look at me for example.
Carry on my wayward son.