Just a quick vignette from yesterday.
I’m standing at the kitchen counter, reading _Electric Rhetoric_ by Kathleen Welch. I’ve found that if I’m standing, I am less climb-on-able and thus less of a target for the J-baby.
Hannah has decided it’s time to practice her tap routine [so add the noise of her brand new Bloch tap shoes, for which her grandma shelled out $60. Her lovely tap instructor showed her how to take a screwdriver and loosen the taps on the shoes so that they are *louder*. Yay. Also add the noise of Louis Jordan’s “Choo Choo Cha-Boogie” over and over and over and over.]
Jack walks in, playing his Gameboy (volume up full blast, so insert the theme from Mario here), talking to me about his latest project (which is collecting bottle caps, putting nail holes in them, and stringing them into a snake) and asking me to “Watch this!” and “Can you beat this level for me mom?” and “Are we going to get me a first date* kit yet??”
Josh has his gi-normous Tonka truck (this one, it’s big enough for them to push one another around in the dump), and he’s running behind it, pushing it back and forth through the length of the house, and it’s making a rumbling racket (plus Hannah keeps yelling at him at each pass he makes to “get out of [her] way!!”).
Later on during the day, I’ve moved to the dining room table (where, since my legs are under the table, I have no visible lap as a target–though I’m still quite vulnerable). The boys have taken all the cushions from the couch and are jumping from the coffee table to the couch and back again. Hannah watches the Simpsons, full blast to hear it over the commotion the boys are generating.
I’m telling myself that it’s good that I can work amidst such distraction, that it strengthens my ability to concentrate. That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway.
*he actually wants a first AID kit. But he calls it a first date kit, which we find HIGH-larious.