Usually when we shop, you're fine for the first 20 minutes or so. About 20 minutes in, though, you have some sort of epileptic fit for which the only cure is going home or a box of cookies (which I never give you...I mean who would do that...cough, cough...stop looking at me like that). And that's just grocery shopping. When we go to the mall, it's like I'm taking you to get a lobotomy. You.hate.it. So, I was a little wary to take you out on the coldest day of man's existence, during lunch time, knowing you would miss your nap and you would be in a mall. However, this time I had my mom to run interference, I packed enough snacks to keep your sugar levels at satisfactory levels, I brought your cars (a necessary item any time we leave the house now), along with a partridge in a pear tree.
My dear Elijah, you were an angel. There were a couple times here and there where we would go in a direction you didn't want to go, and you simply just lay down to show your protest. You didn't throw yourself down or pound your fists and kick when you lay down. You didn't even scream. You would just lie down and say very matter-of-factly, "no". It seemed as if you were taking a little rest on the I-don't-even-want-to-think-how-disgusting floor of Briarwood. And it was pretty easy to lure you away from your awake nap. It usually just took showing you your me-me (pacifier in Eli) or one of your trucks.
It.was.awesome. Thank you.
You've got a little something on your face there.
(juice break with your bestie, Ben)