We went to church early, as I had to make coffee, but a lady that is always there in the morning had already done so, and I felt a little adrift. Jet enjoyed his church school, but when he was over, he was already asking to go home. So in the midst of church, when Peter told me that Jet was "making a big stink" in kids church, I kind of expected it.
I went to him, and it turned out he'd already gone to the toy room instead of the kids church (which Jet calls "the singing room") and he was crying and crying and crying on someone's shoulder. I took him and he cried on me a little about not being allowed to eat his food in the singing room. So we found the food that he'd gotten from Sunday School (chocolate chips, cheesed rice snacks, and Life cereal). We sat down in a quiet spot, and he ate everything in the bag, even the really awful rice snack things. He just plowed through them and then asked to go home...
When church let out, I asked him if he wanted any snacks, and when he said no, he wanted to GO HOME, I told him we had to find Daddy and ask him. Of course, that's when I discovered that there had to be another pot of coffee made, and I made it, and next thing I know, Jet's plowed through all the adults, come back and he's standing in front of me saying, "Daddy said, 'Okay.' I want to go home."
I pick him up, plow out through the crowd, find John. He has a plateful of food and a mug of coffee, and Jet's saying, "Let's go home, Dad." and John's saying, "Okay." and I finally get frustrated and say, "You know, if you say 'Okay' he means going NOW." And I see the light dawn.
A lady at the table says, "But you're always the last ones to leave."
"I know." I say, shortly, and turn on my heel and walk out to find coats and stuff.
I am mad. I don't know why. I just am. But I am very patient with a very whiny Jet, as I put his shoes and coat on him and herd him towards the car. John joins us, and we drive home, and, as I half-suspected, Jet falls asleep on the way home, which he hasn't done for nearly a month.
When I get him, because Jet's asleep anyway, I go to sleep too.
I don't get up until 2, which, sadly, is when John has a meeting at the church, so he's already late, but Jet jumps on me, and I get up and he helps me get myself put back together. He studies the paperwhite in its glass forcing vase, and admires the roots and bulb and straight, green stalk. John goes to his meeting.
Jet and I unpack my box of art materials. He tells me, "I want to use your Chinese paints." So we dig them out of the packing paper, and he gets distracted by the very flashy but very cheap calligraphy set from Borders. So he decides he wants to do water colors with that set, so I let him have it. I find my Klutz watercolor book and take that downstairs, along with the armload of packing paper, and we sit down at Jet's art table and start painting together. He works away industriously, but when he sees me painting a sunset along a desert highway, he decides to sit on my lap and watch me paint. "I want to do that," he says.
"Okay." I say, and pencil in a quick landscape. I water the paper to make a simple wash. He fills the sky with pinks, reds, purples, and tops it with blue and bottoms it with yellow in a corner, "The sun." he says, "Rainbow skies have to have pink." and he fills the watered paper with pink edged clouds.
I have to saturate the brushes with color, as he doesn't have the patience to get the colors good and strong, but when I do, he slaps it on with more vigor and assurance than I have ever had.
John arrives home at 5, with a couple of potatoes. I put them on to boil. I finish off the frozen French cut string beans in a small casserole. I toast the last of the rolls in the same oven. I reheat lots of gravy and actually put it in a gravy boat. The whole potatoes are done pretty quickly. I smash them roughly with skim milk and some butter.
We have an excellent dinner. Jet won't even look at my plate, but he eats a few noodles. Ever since the throwing-up night, he hasn't eaten much, so I figure he's recovering, carefully.