I'm sorry it's been a week since my last update, but I really have no news worth sharing and certainly nothing that could justify displacing the adorable picture of Yoda. Nonetheless, I thought I should check-in and reassure everyone that we are all doing well: no news is, indeed, good news.
However, I don't want to waste your time, so I'll share some observations from the week that you may find entertaining:
Now, you may or may not know that Jeff was a bit fastidious. Actually, he was a lot fastidious. And that may be too charitable a characterization because when I say "fastidious" I mean "obsessive-compulsive about cleaning things." (I say it with love). I am beginning to believe this trait is the product of nature and not nurture; one attributable to genetics and not environment. Here are my elements of proof: If you have spent any appreciable amount of time with Finn, you know that he loves to use the Swiffer. Some babies need a pacifier; some need a bottle; some need to cuddle their mommies; but, when Finn is in a bad mood, he can be instantly distracted and soothed by pushing the Swiffer around the kitchen. He also likes to vacuum and sweep. He is offended by is own runny nose and wants to wipe it himself with a Kleenex (which he then dutifully and instinctively throws away in the trash). He is also very diligent in disposing of anything else he finds on the floor that his sixth sense of "clean" tells him should not be there: wrappers, pieces of paper, etc. He picks them up, shows them to me as if to emphasize "you missed one" and throws them away. He played for 30 minutes today with a bottle of hand-sanitizer--and actually used it the correct way, alternately pumping it into his hands and rubbing them together until they were so clean he could have performed surgery. But the real eye-opener came when Finn and I were in the living room having a "dance party" yesterday.
Now, "Dance Party" probably deserves a blog entry of its own, but I'll reserve full-disclosure for another day and give you the abridged version tonight: the kids and I turn on music and dance until we are tired and out of breath. It usually lasts at least an hour or two and is non-stop fun. (The music changes all the time, but these days we have been listening to what some may consider "classic rock": .38 Special, REO Speedwagon, the Pretenders, etc.) While Regan and Jack were getting "dressed" (sometimes "Dance Party" requires costume changes . . .) Finn and I were warming up to some Beatles. I had a glass of water sitting on the coffee table and he had a sippy cup full of water. And then, as if guided by Jeff's heavenly hand, Finn walked over to the end table, took out a coaster, and put his sippy cup on the coaster. I said out-loud to him, "well, aren't you Daddy's boy?" He was very proud of himself. Meanwhile, I'm ashamed to admit I was negligently using a library book as a "coaster" for my glass of water. And I know he has never witnessed me use a Swiffer--nor has anyone. That kind of sighting is right up there with unicorns, leprechauns, and the Loch Ness Monster.
So, the long and short of it is: I know he doesn't get it from me. And even though I used to sometimes get annoyed at Jeff's fastidiousness, it was somehow both sweet and reassuring to see it come through so loud and clear in Finn. It was a neat reminder of all the ways Jeff will reveal himself through our children in the many years to come.
Until next time, take care and thanks for reading!