Dancing Without Rhythm

I just sat on the floor for an hour putting together this puzzle with Benjamin. It was NOT an easy task. I was overly ambitious in purchasing it, but I was only thinking of Ben's future at Harvard Medical school. Every three-year-old should have a mother so conscientious.

There were at least 8 times I wanted to chuck a handful of solid blue edges across the room because none of them fit with another. The baby nailed my bladder 12 times. I turned it into a teaching moment and showed Ben exactly where the baby was nailing me. My back ached 10 minutes into it.

Avery woke up from her nap halfway through and kept kicking the puzzle because it was keeping the attention from her. Ben kept trying to shove scapulas where scapulas just
don't go and I cursed my motherly teach-my-child-in-fun-bonding-ways lapse no less than 17 times. In my head of course. It was bad enough that Ben was already repeating
everything Dr. Phil said. "Where does this go mom? Lady, you can take a hike if you don't like what I have to say! I know! I'll put it here!" His own flavor of afternoon talk-show tourette's.

Anyway, in the end, it was all worth it when Ben jumped around and clapped for what we'd accomplished and pointed at different parts on the puzzle saying, "I can totally feel that part inside me!"

But the cake for me was, "Fyoosh, I'm sho sweaty from all this puzzling!"
That's my boy.

Posted by Angela on Tuesday, May 15, 2007 at 5/15/2007 | Permalink