Swinging
We are experiencing a swinging renaissance of late. Isaac figured out how to swing in a big-boy swing last week and simply cannot get enough.
He doesn't have the patience to listen to me when I tell him how to pump his legs, so he requires a pusher. At least half of his swinging enjoyment comes from describing to his swing facilitator how he wants to be swung. He does this in an almost nonstop drone of repurposed Einsteins-ese. For the uninitiated, the Little Einsteins enjoy recklessly throwing around cumbersome Italian musical terminology as though everyone should be using such language while ordering a pizza. It actually translates perfectly to swinging.
Verbatim Isaac Swinging Orders:
"Uh-oh, Mommy, I'm going adagio. Can you push me allegro?"
"This is moderato. I need to go PRESTO!"
I sent him outside with the babysitter on Wednesday. When I came to claim him, he was barking his Einsteinian instructions to her from his swing. "Is he saying what I think he's saying?" she asked. "Presto? Where'd he learn that?" Lucky for Isaac, Meghan comes from a musical family.
Jacob has taken in kind to the baby swing. "'Eeeee!" he will softly squeal as he goes back and forth, in imitation of me saying "whee". There was quite a while there where Jacob wanted nothing to do with the swing at all. I wonder, with his insane tooth eruption and then head-cold troubles during the winter, if his stuffed-up head may have played its part to decrease his swing enjoyment. Not that it matters now, because all that is behind us. Here he is combining his new love with his old love, Mama's iced tea.
The boys and I took Dada to a playground this evening, and at one point we had the two boys in the baby swings side-by-side. They enjoyed watching each other, how high the other one was going, whether the other one was shrieking with delight. After about 5 minutes with no sign of disinterest from either miniature human, Dada asked me, "How long can this go on?" Not at all exaggerating, I said, "Oh, about forever."
He doesn't have the patience to listen to me when I tell him how to pump his legs, so he requires a pusher. At least half of his swinging enjoyment comes from describing to his swing facilitator how he wants to be swung. He does this in an almost nonstop drone of repurposed Einsteins-ese. For the uninitiated, the Little Einsteins enjoy recklessly throwing around cumbersome Italian musical terminology as though everyone should be using such language while ordering a pizza. It actually translates perfectly to swinging.
Verbatim Isaac Swinging Orders:
"Uh-oh, Mommy, I'm going adagio. Can you push me allegro?"
"This is moderato. I need to go PRESTO!"
I sent him outside with the babysitter on Wednesday. When I came to claim him, he was barking his Einsteinian instructions to her from his swing. "Is he saying what I think he's saying?" she asked. "Presto? Where'd he learn that?" Lucky for Isaac, Meghan comes from a musical family.
Jacob has taken in kind to the baby swing. "'Eeeee!" he will softly squeal as he goes back and forth, in imitation of me saying "whee". There was quite a while there where Jacob wanted nothing to do with the swing at all. I wonder, with his insane tooth eruption and then head-cold troubles during the winter, if his stuffed-up head may have played its part to decrease his swing enjoyment. Not that it matters now, because all that is behind us. Here he is combining his new love with his old love, Mama's iced tea.
The boys and I took Dada to a playground this evening, and at one point we had the two boys in the baby swings side-by-side. They enjoyed watching each other, how high the other one was going, whether the other one was shrieking with delight. After about 5 minutes with no sign of disinterest from either miniature human, Dada asked me, "How long can this go on?" Not at all exaggerating, I said, "Oh, about forever."
posted by Claire at 1:09 AM
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