Leo is not pleased that his dad remained up North when the two of us came back home. Seymour is a primary component of Leo's usual night-time routine: Daddy comes home, we all eat dinner together (usually Leo's second dinner, his meal frequency is Hobbity), Daddy goes on the trampoline with Leo, and then Daddy gives Leo his bath while I laugh and chat with them from the adjacent laundry room. Afterward I play Leo a few tunes on the pennywhistle, and our boy drops off -- by 9:15, at the latest.
With Daddy away, Leo's night-time routine makes no sense, and has steadily deteriorated -- first he stopped tolerating the pennywhistle, then he refused to go to bed on time and insisted on snuggling on the couch with me while I worked, then last night he refused to go to bed entirely until well past midnight -- and played with his iPad obsessively. (So that would be a not-good iPad aspect for our boy.)
But our days have remained fun, and I have enjoyed spending so much one-on-one time with my boy in this calm, quiet, chatterbox-free house, and during excursions. Today (after a lovely lunch with dear friends Jen, Descartes, Lucy, Jake, Susan, and Isaac) we headed to our favorite beach and spent nearly an hour burying each other's limbs in the colorful pebbles:
I could spend hours at this beach looking at individual pebbles. They're even more beautiful when they're wet. I recommend clicking on the photo so you can see them close up.
Digging digging and even more digging. This is the best beach in the world for a sensory-seeking child. No tools needed.
Still working on 1:1 correspondence whenever we can.
Seymour and the girls return in the AM. And our boy's routine will resume. And he'll be happy. But I'll also be a little bit sad to give up our intense, pleasant daytime camaraderie, even though it will mean our three missing pieces have returned.