A Very Good Question

Tonight Oliver and I got together with three very good friends, Colleen, Kara, and Cindy. He was privy to what girls who have known each other for 20-some odd years talk about over wine and cheesecake. Those days are numbered, as he is a boy; but for now, he can come with. He was very much looking forward to seeing Colleen in particular, who took care of him for the first two months of my return to work. Here's a picture of everyone in Colleen's household, which includes her hubby Chris, and their two very inquisitive and bright young boys, Braden and Noah.

Tonight, Colleen told us about the many questions Braden has been posing as of late. He's just so curious about how the world around him is working. And today, he posed one of the best questions of all: "Mom, why is my head attached?" Like he was just walking around and thinking about his head, and suddenly realized, "huh, it doesn't come off!"

Oh, but it does. I loose my head every day. So does Michael. It happens when Oliver is put in his carseat. The carseat used to be our friend. It lulled Ollie to sleep in a matter of seconds, whether or not he was tired. And during the rare times when he was awake in our moving vehicle, he turned his head left, right, left, right, looking at the cars, the trucks, and the raindrops. But now when we put him in the car, we have about T-minus 3 minutes until he starts to fuss. Then the fuss turns into a cry, which turns into a wail. A blood-curdling scream, actually, which sends him into coughing and wretching, which leads to a few seconds of unwelcomed silence as we wait for him to breathe again. And he does, thankfully. Breathe and scream.

Yes, we have tried putting the nuk back in. He spits it back out. He has a mirror to see himself in. We try stroking his head, which is hot from all of the crying. We try taking off his hat, pulling over to show our faces, playing music, being silent, singing songs, sh-sh-sh-sh-shhhhhh-ing. Any other tips are welcome and will be attempted with great fervor. In the meantime, we are practicing some deep breathing behind the wheel and dreading our noisy little commutes.

And Mr. Braden, in response to your question: the reason we keep our heads attached is because some days, that is all that we can claim as accomplished.