I’ve only been at my parent’s house for approximately 12 hours and these are the events transpiring [in addition to the dancing Santa, on a musical boat, being pulled by a truck, being escorted by twelve bedazzled scooters up and down my parent’s street. Yep. I love you Florida. Don’t ever change]:
1. Waleed ran around with a toy train pretending it was a space ship that crashed loudly to earth. Every ten seconds.
2. He ran up the stairs. And down the stairs. Twenty-five times.
2. He found my childhood Casio piano and banged out several new original musical compositions.
3. And then rushed out to the fenced backyard pulling oranges and inspecting grapefruits while I sat under the covered porch and read a book.
4. He stood in the center of the family room and belted out the ABCs [incomprehensible to anyone but the well versed in Waleedism] in full opera dramatic grandeur. I swear the walls might have shook.
5. He then proceeded to pretend with his stuffed animals about what appeared to be very loud, very angry middle east peace talk negotiations. There was clashing of stuffed heads of state.
6. He turned a chair into a shopping cart and pushed it around the house adding books and pens that might come along the way. [He also appears immune to the noise that wood scraping against tiles makes which I sadly, am not]
7. We called Baba and proceeded to have a speakerphone conversation complete with wild gesticulations and leaping from sofas to emphasize certain necessary points.
And each time these things happened, I instincitively cringed. Instinctively went to tell him to stop because of the neighbors. They might hear. And then ofcourse I realized, no one can hear. It’s us. And he can scream as loudly as he wants with wild abandon. He can jump from sofas. He can toss his train. Because it’s a house and it’s just us and it’s okay.
And while small-living has its benefits such as less to clean, and no yard to mow, and lower heating bills [and I am sure there are times you do want someone to hear you if you are screaming] my is it nice to let my son let out his full on boyish giddy self. It’s nicer than I can put into words. I’m sure Bob is happy too.
Really hope we find a house we love soon.