Enjoying the routine

When I put Dash down for his nap each afternoon, we take a FiFi (soy milk in a sippy cup) upstairs, change into his pajamas (because his clothes are always dirt-covered) and read a story or two.  This week, we've been reading and re-reading "Percy's Chocolate Crunch" -- a Thomas the Tank Engine story about a water shortage forcing the engines only to get one wash-down each day, and Percy, who hates to get dirty, doesn't like the new "usefuless before cleanliness" policy.  [Insert any number of jokes about the Guv authoring this policy as it reflects his constant attempts to avoid bathing kids more than he deems necessary, which, of course, is 'round 'bout never.] 

In any event, I have started looking forward to this naptime ritual immensely for a few reasons.  It starts with the pajama change, for which Dash sticks his little arms high up in the air -- as in "Stick 'em up!" -- for both the removal of his old shirt and the putting on of the new one.  His little arms in the air help a great deal with getting his shirt off, but not so much with putting the new one on -- yet he insists on dressing this way, and he will remain in that "hands high" position for as long as it takes me to get him dressed.  Once, he waited several minutes as I retrieved the forgotten FiFi and found clean PJs.  His arms must've been tired, but he was frozen in position.  My enjoyment of this is twofold: One, it's just funny, as he's so skinny and little, and he looks like he's being robbed -- especially the solemn face with these perfectly-still toothpick arms held straight up.  Two, he is perfectly still as he waits in this position.  This may be the only time in the day when he is perfectly still.  He doesn't sleep still, doesn't eat still, doesn't watch TV still, doesn't try to use the potty still (so potty training is going to be taking a looooong time).

Then, there's the Percy story.  No one warned me that having a boy meant having dirt around everywhere, all of the time.  I don't mean sand falling out of his shoes -- I mean real, actual, dirt that he's dug out of the yard, placed in a dump truck and brought in to add some realism to his train table.  (That's one of many examples.)  So there is no story that this boy likes more than the story of a train who gets covered in coal dust, cinders, and, ultimately chocolate.  As he squeals with delight and asks if Percy has to have a bath, he looks sad when I tell him that yes, Percy finally gets to have a washdown, despite the water shortage.  Of course, Dash would rather not wash off all of that delicious dirt-infused chocolate; he'd rather scrape it off, put it in a dump truck, mix in some rocks, and dump it on my kitchen floor, probably test-licking some until he's caught and the mess is cleaned up. 

Here, I bought the book because I thought "water shortage" education might come in useful for our California move, and it seemed timely with Earth Day and all... and the boy takes away a lesson about good, dirty fun and the sad, bad bath that follows.  And I couldn't be happier, because this is the joy of having a boy -- and when he's entertained, happy, dirty, and especially nap-bound, life is good and peaceful, for an hour or so at least.  Sometimes I even fall asleep too, overwhelmed with the wonder of it all.