Today, I decided to take the kids on a walk around our neighborhood. We’re trying to be more active, especially for my son who has a heart issue so it’s kind of a battle to keep him active.
So, I rode my bike to the post office to drop off my Ebay packages and then when I got home announced with a smile that we would be going for a walk.
The response was immediate. I could see they were really excited to go for this walk. I can see the family time must be super meaningful to them.
Gnashing of teeth, wailing, crying. Tantrums, stomping of feet.
So, after a bit of nudging and cajoling and threatening, we all set out for the walk. One big happy family.
The baby only screamed and complained, begging for me to pick her up for the first four blocks. Did I mention we walked four blocks?
My son, the 12-year-old, stopped several times, wailing for me to walk slower. The 1/2 mile per hour speed was too fast, so I slowed to a crawl. He only cried for about three blocks. The last block he spent apologizing and asking what privileges he was going to lose, as the baby was still screaming and whining. Explaining to me in a voice three octaves above her usual voice that she needed to suck on her fingers and twirl her hair and that I needed to really, really carry her.
I told her that we were on a walk, not a carry. If we went on a carry, I would be happy to carry her, but that since this was a walk, we were going to walk.
My 7-year-old, usually very teenager-y and complain-y was a dreamboat. She rode her bike and was spelling words, trying to spell things to me about the baby, but of course, with screamy-tantrum pants walking with me, I just couldn’t hear anything but a few letters here and there.
The last minute or so, with the house in sight, the baby stopped screaming, my son stopped complaining, and we had a 1/2 block of pure bliss.
I love family time. Can’t wait for tomorrow’s walk.