Now that Fred seems to have an opinion about every thing from what shirt he wears to The Hill to the proper way to stack the growing legions of stuffed animals (Baby Bear, Baby Bunny, Goofy, Mickey, Poo Bear, Eeyore, Dolphin, Pablo, Tasha, Tyrone, Blanket Bear, Frog, Tad...all of which must be in his bed before he can go to sleep) as a control freak myself, we seem to be having a constant battle as to just who's way is the right way and who's way things are going to get done. I feel for poor Lucy in that it's a common joke between women that their husband is simply another child to take care of, yet at times it's like I've fallen asleep and woken up in the middle of a round of "This is the way this gets done/This is the way I do it/But that's not the right way to do it/But this is the way I get it done" and I can't seem to find an end to it. A game which is started at a moments notice and involves such trivial things as getting into the car properly, the right way to play with a Slinky, and how to brush your teeth.
Only many times what I consider to be trivial, is actually a major deal with Fred in that it's important to him to learn to do things himself. In some ways I miss the little baby we once had that required our constant attention to survive, then again as I meet him on the couch every afternoon at 5:30 for a half hour of The Mickey Mouse Club House I can't help but smile as my little boy decides that eating a Pop-Tart sideways is exactly the way it should be done. In fact as I join the masses headed for work at the Cube Farm every morning, part of me screams for a chance to be different from those surrounding me from 8-5.
Who knows....maybe they taste better sideways.
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