Uphill

One more story from the library: we're in the "under-3" area, where kids can crawl around and "read" (chew on) board books. There's a little slide in the corner with four steps. At home, we can't keep Samson off the stairs. Here, he only wanted to climb up the slide. And so we let him try; he'd get halfway there and slide down. But each time, he'd pull himself up and start again.

This went on for a bit, and I figured he'd tire out eventually, but thought the other child in the section might want to try the slide. So I said, good-naturedly, "come on, Sisyphus, let's give someone else a turn."

I think the other child's mother thought I'd called him a sissy because she kind of looked at me strangely. And on the next try, Samson did in fact get up to the top of the slide. A miracle of persistence (and physics) that made me very proud. But I also felt uncomfortable and kind of Great Santini-esque hanging around there since this woman thought I was living vicariously through my 11-month-old's ability to climb a 45-degree incline.

What I wish I had was a pop-up window explaining 1) who Sisyphus is; 2) that I'm not a jerk [usually]; 3) that I love my son very much, and 4) that I am hoping to speak with him --- when possible --- like I speak to other people because I think baby talk is silly (and a little demeaning, to him as much as me). Instead Sam, Vicki, and I sat and checked out a board book on ducks. It was pretty good.