I needed a diversion. A time-filler while I raced upstairs to rescue the baby bouncing around in his crib like a misguided rocket following his healthy nap this afternoon.
"Would you like to play something in your folder on my iPad?"
Eyes a-glow, "Yes!"
"OK." I served him the tiny technological wonder with his 'Reid's games' open before loping down the entry hallway and up the stairs.
"Mooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmy? Mommy?!? Mooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmy?"
"YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS..." I answered back over the upstairs banister toward the kitchen where he sat bellied up to the island. It had been ten seconds.
"How do you spell -ing?"
Remembering I gave him a tip from the Phonics Dance this spring I began singing the chant, "i-n-g. -ing, -ing, -ing..." as Grant and I bounced tread by tread toward him.
"Mommy, I can't type."
"What do you mean? If you want to type, let's open 'Notes.'" I multi-tasked while grabbing a warm bottle. (That's an affirmative -- Grant still takes a bottle before naps and sometimes after. I know.)
Two seconds later, I peeked over to find this:
"It won't go anywhere, Mommy. Where are the pictures?" he sat tapping his megaword as any remaining patience disappeared like the fickle snowfall this afternoon.
Slow on the uptake, I finally connected the dots. "If you want to look online for something, we need to go to Google. What do you want to search for, Reid?"
"Riding mowers. I want to find Daddy's."