They are both asleep this very moment. By saying this, I am in severe risk of jinxing my good luck. As I wrote the last sentence, Elliott started crying, so I had to run to his crib and see if he'd take the pacifier. He did. Score!
This morning, I took both of the boys to the park. It was my good fortune that they were having a picnic for thirty or forty severely retarded people and their ornery caretakers. Ben could have played in the muddy, gnat-ridden field with a bunch of kids flying a kite. But what did he want to do? Mingle with the retarded people, who were moaning and convulsing and spitting while the appetizing scent of grilled hamburger swirled through the air. One of the few who could walk approached Ben and did a gun pantomime with his hand, then placed a heavy hand on Ben's head. Ben did not like this, and he ran down a dangerously steep hill (me carrying Elliott, who was peacefully asleep in the baby carrier, behind him), then tried to jump into a muddy puddle with a jagged pipe in it that was marked with a caution sign. I barely managed to stop him, and, as a result, he burst into tears. I told him we were going home if he couldn't stop crying. "Want to play with Jason?" I asked him. "Want to play with the kite?" He didn't and he kept crying, so I dragged him up through the retarded picnic and placed him in his car seat, screaming, his feet covered in mud and water.
Yesterday, I tried to take him to get his hair cut and as the barber ran the clippers through his hair, he panicked and writhed away, even though he's had his hair cut several times before. The barber and I had to pin him down to do the other side, just to make it even, so now he has sort of a mullet. I'm too scared to take him back today, and Ryan is at work until 5, so I think I'll just wait until tomorrow.
In short, Ben loves being a big brother.
Last night, Ryan and I went on our first date (thank you, Bridget), and I had my first beer since I got pregnant last year. Trust me, I deserved it.