I'm listening

"Papa, finished?" Jackson shouted. He desperately wanted to build a "big, big" Thomas Train track with Drew. 

"Yep, I'm all finished," Drew finally said. 

And there was little Maeve over in her high chair doing sign language for "finished" or "all done." All by herself, with no one speaking to her or asking her if she was finished eating, she was doing the sign we had taught her. 

"She heard you say finished," I said, surprised. "See I think little kids hear way more than we think -- why is that?" I rhetorically asked.

"Because they never listen," Drew said. Meaning, they never do what we ask, when we ask it. 

How true. 

Bolt

"Cat and dog one, Mommy?" 

It all started with a simple request. Jackson had seen a commercial on TV for a movie; however, he must not have caught the title of the picture -- Bolt. A minor detail. In need of a late afternoon activity, I suggested we walk to Blockbuster and look for the "cat and dog one." Forty-five minutes later we came out empty-handed (well, not exactly we did rent Lady and the Tramp). Not without effort -- Jackson thoroughly  searched every corner, every shelf of that store. He even asked the young man behind the counter to look. "Cat and dog one, man?" he demanded. I'll give the Blockbuster guy credit -- he did produce a movie actually titled "Cats and Dogs." Jackpot!  But no, this was not the movie in question Jackson confirmed. 

Then I actually saw the commercial, and the mystery was solved. Which gave us another late afternoon activity the following day -- walk to the cinema and find out what times Bolt was playing. The fact he could not see the movie "now" was beyond Jackson's understanding. You can't blame the kid -- he has grown up in a TV world run by inventions like DVR and TiVo (God Bless their inventors).  So we took home a flyer with movie times, agreeing we would talk with Papa that night and decide a time Jackson could go see Bolt. 

4:40 p.m. Thursday. Jackson could not wait. I even had to find trailers online that he could watch over and over again to partially satisfy his appetite for this movie. He took an early nap, woke up, got dressed, filled his wallet with Australian coin. He couldn't have been more ready. As I watched Drew and Jackson walk into the cinema from the car, I could see him proudly holding out his wallet as he approached the ticket counter. And of course, being a mere mortal mom and tears quickly filled my eyes as my baby boy experienced this first. 

But Bolt was something Jackson wanted to do, not to watch. As Drew tells it, they never actually sat down -- just watched the previews from outside the door until the ushers had to shut the doors. Then Jackson told Drew he wanted to go  home. Maybe all he really wanted was the blue Gatorade and popcorn that he brought home. (It has been a full two weeks since we splurged on our daily serving of movie theatre quality popcorn at G&G Parker's.) 

In any case, with all "firsts," Drew and I are learning our expectations may not match our three-year old's. And sometimes it is the journey he enjoys even more than the final destination. I think it will be very easy to forever remember the title of the first movie Jackson ever "saw" at the movie theatre. Bolt. 

Hint

Along the line of resolutions, here is how Jackson clued Drew in on what his ought to be. We were setting the dinner table tonight, and I asked Jackson to ask Drew what he would like to drink. 

"Pa-PA!" Jackson yelled. "Would like some beers?" 

OK. Maybe it is time for the adults to cut back on a certain substance. 

Eight suitcases

And eight suitcases later (five more than we left with), we are back in Brisbane. That was the damage done during our one-month holiday vacation in Morton. We pretty much declared everything possible when we went through customs because we weren't actually certain of the contents of our suitcases. Drew took a dump, sit and zip approach to packing, which I was thankful for because then I didn't spend hours doing it. (I am manic about organizing my suitcases, and it takes forever.) Actually, we were sure what was in our eight suitcases -- it was all toys. Truly. Days one through five our upstairs looked like a tornado had come through -- just a kind one that left toys. Then I had the great idea to just move all of that mess downstairs into the toy room, planning we would organize it once it was done there. But days six through seven, that has yet to happen. Patience. I told Drew I feel like I am living in a toy landfill. 

So my New Year's resolution is to keep up with this blog and all other electronic communications for that matter. (I should probably add cell phone communication to the list since I am horrible at that. I'm going to say that is genetic and blame my dad.) However, in addition to Jackson and Maeve, two other resolutions may compete with the first. 1) Entourage and 2) our resolution to drink more wine on the back porch. But who are we kidding? We are so jet lagged and exhausted once the kids fall asleep so do we, and all of these resolutions are abandoned. There is always tomorrow . . .