Iain drives me a little nuts. He'll be playing quietly, and reading, and so I'll get my book and start to read.
This, naturally, triggers a crisis. Iain starts coming up with books, demanding "readit!" They're always the books we read most often, so I feel like they're concepts are drilled into my head. Concrete mixer. Dump truck. En espanol!
Today I solved this problem. Every time Iain came up I said, "You look like you need to be grabbed, squeezed, and kissed!" And I did. He giggled, then squirmed away. I kept this up every time he got near me. Eventually, when he was tired of being hugged and kissed, he stayed away, playing trains and reading to himself.
Victory is sweet, especially when it comes with kisses.
P.S. Did I mention that Iain's carnivorous instincts finally kicked in? Last night he ate roasted pork loin wrapped in bacon ("bacon!") and tonight he ate teriyaki-glazed beef tips. I personify double-extra-happiness.
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