Trucker has started to want to play, in earnest, with his big brother.  I get these crazy drives to get them out of the house.  We have very sensitive, annoying, downstairs neighbors.  And we have the TV.  Sometimes I just want to pull them away as fast as I can from both.  Such was the case the other day.  I got them out of the house in record time.  I had Cake’s scooter and Trucker’s cloth-covered volleyball.  We were ready for action.  And then we got downstairs.  Rain.  What was I thinking?  Why did I assume it would be any different than it had been for weeks.  But I couldn’t bring them back up to the apartment.  I just couldn’t.  Mind you, I didn’t even have a rain cover on the stroller.  I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood where the immigrants, be they from Mexico or Poland, all dress their babies in layers and layers and blankets and a rain cover on even the slightest dip below 70 degrees (I exaggerate, but you get the point).  And the older residents have no problem telling you about anything they disagree with in the way you’ve chosen to dress your child.  So I was already going rogue just by being outside.  I told Cake we could go around the block and then go home.  But by the time we got around the block, Cakie was on autopilot and headed right for the playground.  OK.  WTF?  Why not?  So we went to the big open paved area where C usually rides his bike.  Mind you,  Trucker was wearing cotton pants.  No rain boots.  No jeans.   He just had cotton pants and a jacket.  The place was covered in puddles.  But the brothers?  They didn’t care a lick.  They started kicking the ball around.  Trucker was shrieking his head off with laughter.  So was Cake.  It was as if they were both brought to this planet to play this kick-the-ball game in this puddley yard on this cold rainy day.  The ball, being covered in cloth, became a big sponge.  The cotton pants, being fulumped into puddles, also became cold, wet sponges on the baby’s little pudge legs.  But the laughter did not stop.  It was so fun for them, but a little hard for me.  At what point do I step up, be a mom, and make them go home for some warm clothes?  It sucked.  But at one point I finally gave in to my mom side and tried to get them to leave.  Oh!  The drama!  People probably thought I was beating poor Trucker as I tried to get him into the stroller, so long and mournful were his cries.  I wish I could have just let them play and play.  But I was kind of worried about how cold they were.  I was cold and I wasn’t even wet.

I’m glad I didn’t go right upstairs, though.  And I’m glad I went to the playground and not just back home after we went around the block.  I look forward to more Cakie – Trucker fun.  I feel so lucky to have these happy brothers.  So very lucky.



Filed under my second son, my son, Trucker

3 responses to “Brothers

  1. Lo

    I am a firm believer in a certain amount of puddle-stomping. I mean, not if they have to get on a train for an hour to get home….but I know the proximity of your house to that playground. So, sounds pretty awesome.

  2. sn

    we went to an awesome playground last week with a little waterfall along the sandbox from which tantalizing muddy puddles form. most parents assiduously kept their kids out, but of course our wild child plowed right in–first keeping her pants miraculously dry, then a little wet, then soaked through, then abandoned entirely. she loved it, and i love that she loved it. she now gets home and says “no! HOME! pagaan (= playground)!”

  3. nutella

    Aww, I hope there are more puddle stomping kickball games in their future!

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