If I understand the concepts correctly, this will be my second post of the day and in my blogging history. dear wife, dear son, dear daughter and I live in York, PA. I work in Baltimore and this weekend we are visiting my dw's immediate family who also live in Baltimore. We were all very tired last night due to my dear daughter choosing to have an hour long emotional melt down at three o'clock Friday morning so when bedtime for the children arrived at eight o'clock we (dw and I) had commiserated to join them in sleep shortly there after. My dear son became adamant that he could not sleep here in "Grandmama's house" because as he put it, "I can't sleep in my airplane bed, its at my house. I can't sleep in this bed, its not my airplane bed. I can't sleep in the guest bed, its mommy and daddy's bed. I can't sleep in Grandmama and Abu's bed. I can't sleep on the floor, its not a bed. I can't sleep downstairs, its too cold. I can't sleep in the crib, its Jillian's bed and its too small." My son is only three years old and he put into this one breath string of arguments an intensity and drama that was worthy of his father (me) and my father (ddr). My line of the family is nothing if not dramatic and given to something of a passion for going off on tangents. At any rate, we were so tired and so amazed at the extreme passion and indeed conviction behind the rant that on its third cycle we all (Grandmama, dw, and I) burst out laughing. We asked ds if he would like to go sit for a minute with Grandmama to which he agreed, but he started the cycle again immediately to her. It reminded me honestly of my childhood visitations to the Church Of God Of Prophecy during a Sunday night revival when a guest preacher was in full swing. There might have been only a bare thread connecting the rant to reality, but no one could question the conviction and passion for which it was presented. Grandmama shus'd him softly then asked if he would like to pick a special stuffed animal from her table to sleep with. Grandmama has nearly all her stuffed animal's piled together on a single table in the room where we topically lay dd and ds when visiting. This complete change of subject and rather over dramatic reference to the toys caught me as strange as my ds's current rants, but it was all that was needed to remedy the situation. A joyous, "yes", from ds and he was up the stairs to pick an old elephant and crawling into bed.
So often I find a part of me that is excited by experience just because it is new; something I've never experienced before. I find that more often then not, my experiences with my children are events my entire self rejoices in not just that one small part of me.