Every day, we go for a walk down our street to the paper boxes on the corner. Finn has progressed from riding in the wagon to pulling it down the street himself. Dylan taught him to pull his wagon to the roadside if a car comes -- no sidewalks on our street. Is this an Ottawa thing? An Ontario deal? Something particular to the 'burbs? -- and then he has to make eye contact with the driver and wave.
He's very diligent about this. It's especially exciting if the person waves back. The whole neighbourhood must think we are that "very tall but very friendly family from Alberta."
Sometimes we run the wagon there. Mostly, we meander.
He gets the paper himself from the box. We put it in the wagon and head back to the house. It's a little troublesome if the boxes are empty, but Finn takes it in stride.
This trip is only two blocks both ways, but it takes about 45 minutes. There are bugs to squish, garbage to look at, street signs to inspect, sewers to poke stuff into, manhole covers to run the wagon over: all very important and exciting.
The other day, back home, I was reading Finn's free paper while he fiddled around with his wagon in the garage.
Rosemary was in my lap, and she started playing with the paper. It made her happy, so I let her rip it up. The whole teething thing has made for a grumpy baby, and at this point, anything that makes her happy is good. Finn stopped to watch her. She ripped and crumpled. He watched and watched. She got very excited. He got very quiet. It seemed cute for about a minute, and then he got very, very upset.
Rose was ripping up HIS paper. The paper HE walked to the box to get and that HE brought back in his wagon. The one HE so thoughtfully handed me to read.
After a lot of tears and a distractionary cookie, we got past the paper problem, but suddenly, I can see the future tears and hear the inevitable wails over Finn's block towers carefully built and then knocked down by little Rosemary, the macaroni art lovingly created and then ripped up, the Lego masterpiece carefully constructed and then unceremoniously taken apart. Finn has a little sister.