One: Eli continues his habit of becoming distraught over all kinds of random things. He’s like a Victorian maiden who just so happens to have brought her fainting couch with her. Earlier this week, Misty wouldn’t let him get in bed with her early in the morning. This is not cruelty, it’s self-protection. When Eli says, “I want to get in bed and snuggle with you!” what he means is that he wants to get in bed and then flail around madly. He’s like a bag of ocelots that someone just hit with a stick.
I was getting ready for work, so the first I knew about it was when Eli stumbled past me, shoulders slumped, blanket dragging behind him. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Mom won’t let me snuggle,” he said through his tears.
I picked him up and hugged him, getting my shirt all damp. “You going to be okay?” I asked.
“I’ll try,” he sniffed. “It’s hard.”
Two: When I pulled my new-to-me first-gen XBox apart, turned it into a media player, and put it back together, I got several XBox games to go with it. Nothing says “I am a gamer and I am into your gaming culture” quite like getting a bunch of last-gen console games and playing them. Unless it’s playing them with my good friend Jack Thompson.
Anyway, one of the games I got is Psychonauts, and if you have an XBox or PS2 and haven’t played it, it’s because you hate things that are good. I started playing it while Eli was napping, and after the first hour told Misty, “You know, if Eli sees me playing this, he’s going to want to play it, too.”
Wouldn’t you know it, he saw me playing it. Now it is in the rotation along with Super Paper Mario and Lego Indiana Jones. The other day I heard him making up a story involving Peach, Mario, and Bowser collecting Psychonautsish luggage tags and pairing them with mental baggage. What can I say? He’s a wee little fanfic generator. Just wait until he discovers Torchwood.
Three: Yesterday morning, Eli came bopping into our bathroom while Misty and I were getting ready. He picked up three of Misty’s lipstick tubes and asked, “Which one can I put on?”
Misty calmly looked at them and popped one open. “Here,” she said. “Don’t twist it out any more.” I watched as Eli calmly painted his lips. He looked a little like a toddler Joker by the time he was done.
“Here you go,” he said, handing the lipstick back to Misty. He grabbed some toilet paper, wiped all of the lipstick off, and went back for a second tube. I was surprised to hear Misty say, “Oh, not that one. You tried that one yesterday.”
He’s awfully young to be getting into lipstick. I at least waited until I was 18 before I started with the makeup. But Eli is awfully precocious, and I suppose it’s true that children are growing up faster than ever these days. I can’t help but think, though, that with his lipstick and his singing and dancing he reminds me of someone.