Little League Psychic Blacksmiths

Little Thumper had quite the busy weekend. Judging by the number of hours he spent sleeping yesterday, I think we may have overstimulated the boy on Saturday. Either that, or the sleep, combined with the vast quantities of breastmilk and formula he's consuming, mean that he's going to be four feet tall by next weekend.

First, Grandma and Grandpa stopped by Friday night to lay eyes and hands upon him. They seemed satisfied by his progress so far and generally agreed with me that he is the cutest baby ever.

Then Thumper and I gave Mrs. Rodius a chance to get some work done in preparation for her return to the office next week. We began by spectating at his cousin's baseball game. Grandma immediately declared that I was holding him wrong so that she could take possession of him. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the enthusiasm of the superfan sitting next to her, but he was delighted to see Auntie SWSIL again. She makes intriguing and unpredictable noises that sometimes make him laugh and sometimes make him ponder their subtler nuances of meaning. All in all, he was an excellent sports fan and caused Big Brother to comment on his remarkable portability.

After lunch, we accompanied Grandma and Grandpa to the Body, Mind, Spirit Expo. He fell asleep on the way over, and slept through the entire experience, despite what Grandma described as the dissonant energy filling the space. It made her sweat, but Thumper was undisturbed. As he slept, he had a brief chat with Grandma's coach and book collaborator. He told her that he has a lot of energy in his hands that he doesn't know what to do with, he sometimes gets headaches and finds it soothing to have his hair stroked, and he doesn't like for people to mess with his feet. We three adults also had photos taken of our auras; not surprisingly, mine was burnt orange. Coincidentally, we then went home to watch the Red River Shootout, which is no longer a Shootout because that's too violent in this age of terrorism. I think now it's just a Rivalry.

Grandpa, Thumper, and I watched the game while Grandma forced Mrs. Rodius to take a break and actually do the clothes shopping she wanted to do before returning to the office. This was the first Texas-OU game in four or five years that I didn't actually attend, but I didn't really miss it. I've done it enough now that the anticipation is outweighed by the dread of the drive, and the parking, and the jamming myself into the undersized and antiquated stadium with all those other folks, not to mention enduring the brutal ridicule of those nasty, nasty OU fans after a loss.

Watching the game was fun, but a little exhausting. I have a whole new respect for what Mrs. Rodius has accomplished by staying home with him all day every day these past two weeks. I didn't realize how much energy it takes to keep a tiny, relatively immobile lump entertained like that. When I mentioned to Mrs. Rodius on her return that Thumper had been a little fussy, Grandpa commented that oh, he wasn't that bad; he only fussed for a half hour or so. Yeah, he only fussed for a half hour or so because I spent the entire three hours or more walking, bouncing, shifting, singing, playing, making faces, and otherwise accomodating his five-minute attention span. Mrs. Rodius and I have decided that he gets bored very quickly and frustrated very easily by his lack of control over his own body. We have also decided that this is evidence of his remarkable intelligence. But man, I'll be glad when the boy can hold a rattle and shove it in his mouth for five minutes without demanding that I dance for him! Dance for him now!

So Thumper conked out later that evening and slept all night again. And slept on the way to breakfast, and then through breakfast. And then most of the rest of the morning. In the afternoon, we went to a birthday party out in the heat at Pioneer Farms, a volunteer-staffed working farm that operates as it would have in 1851 (excepting the hay ride driven by the Kubota front-loader, and the more-or-less working toilets in the main house). We thought it was an odd choice for a nine-year-old girl's birthday party, but another of Thumper's cousins tore through the entire Laura Ingalls Wilder collection and decided Pioneer Farms was the place for her. The blacksmith was a big hit with the kids, but Thumper gleaned no educational value from the experience, as he slept through almost all of it. On the way home, he did cry out his indignation at waking and finding himself in the car yet again, but he soon wore himself out and slept the rest of the way home. He stayed awake through most of the evening, but was rather more subdued than he had been the day before. He went to bed around 1am, and was still asleep when I left at 7 this morning. I think Mrs. Rodius is in for it today.

So good luck, Mrs. Rodius! Here's hoping that his motor skills take a quantum leap this week before I become Chief Operating Officer of the Childcare Division!