Kurt and I have spent a lot of time in the car lately, hitting the toddler hot spots around town and listening to a lot of Alanis Morisette, Bare Naked Ladies, Corey Hart, Rush (there's basically, like, a Rush station), and, strangely enough, Bon Jovi. Is there a Canadian connection to Bon Jovi I'm not aware of?
One of the reasons I was looking forward to moving to Victoria was its plethora of state-sponsored rec centers that offer a gazillion toddler classes and play groups, which promised to keep Kurt busy in his toddlerhood and me busy in my unemployment. But while the playgroups, unstructured and of various sizes, have been a positive experience on the whole, minus a tragic bouncy house accident in which Kurt basically bit through his lip, the toddler classes have been a bust. Remember that kid I had who loved the pool and couldn't wait to get into it? About a month ago, and exactly a week before his swim class was due to start, he was replaced by a toddler who is too busy sobbing miserably into my shoulder to notice the awesome wave pool and pirate ship at Saanich Commonwealth pool. Thankfully, the attendant who refunded my money was very understanding.
This morning he was all set to start a toddler percussion class, and I thought there was no way to go wrong with toddlers and percussion instruments. But alas, this was a class in which the instructor expected the toddlers to basically sit in a circle while she taught them to do dances and shake rather lame, simple percussion instruments in specific routines to the music. Most kids looked pretty blank, but Kurt was just pissed about being made to sit still. He has also retained his lifelong (thus far) habit of bursting into tears when large groups of people applaud (not born for the stage, this child), and since toddler classes are ninety percent clapping, well, you can imagine how that went. Thankfully, the attendant who refunded my money was very understanding.
However, behind the rec center was a skateboard park. I don't know why it never occurred to me before! A park that consists entirely of ramps and stairs! Kurt was in heaven.
So, anyway, Kurt's been keeping busy. His new hobbies include flushing his foam letters and numbers down the toilet, demanding to be picked up and flipped over, and finding all the iPhones in the house for the express purpose of getting them all to play the Leapfrog Letter Factory video all at once. Jeff and I could probably recite the whole thing from memory now.
Jeff has been keeping busy by working. He likes it, except for the part about getting up in the morning. And being gone all day. And having responsibility.
The cats are keeping busy by clawing the furniture and jumping up on the kitchen table like they own it. Cat discipline in this house has been shot to hell since we arrived. We briefly instigated a squirt bottle regimen against the clawing, and the cats, getting the message that we didn't want them doing it anymore, have politely started waiting until we're asleep. If I die any time soon, it will almost certainly involve me stumbling out into the living room at four am with no glasses on, trying to kill a cat.
Biddy had Kurt and me over for tea the other day, and I got a good shot of her shamelessly feeding cornflakes to the deer that our landlord despises.