I Heart the Mall

Like, big, pink, puffy, middle-school girl-with-a-crush hearts.  And possibly flowers, too.  Which is funny, since yesterday I talked about my hatred of shopping.  And under normal circumstances, I hate the mall with the fire of a thousand burning suns.  But, on a weekday, an hour before any of the stores open, it's simply a big, open, warm place to take a walk with my crazy-busy, active toddler.

So, at nine o'clock yesterday morning, I bundled Miles into the van and drove the half mile or so to the mall.  I took the stroller in, but for most of the morning, he walked beside me, running at times to keep up with my rather rapid pace.*  We stopped at the coffee shop inside the bookstore (one of the very few stores open at that ungodly hour), where I purchased a chai for me, and a blueberry scone for us to share.  And then, we walked the mall.  Like a pair of weight-conscious baby-boomers.  Except cuter.  Every few steps, Miles would stop and ask "more, please" and I would give him another bite of scone, and he would sign "thank you" (from his ear, but whatever, his mouth was busy chewing).  And then, we would continue walking, and nibbling, sipping our respective drinks, just chatting and enjoying one another's company.

Yeah, I can totally dig on the mall.

*I try to slow down for him, I really do.  It just doesn't always work very well . . .

Cabin Fever

I hate being stuck inside.

Correction: I love being stuck inside, by myself, with an endless supply of cocoa and good books.  I hate being stuck inside with an active toddler who is easily bored.

So far, we have played with his Duplos, played in the tent, played crawling chase games and tickle wars, wrestled with his teddy bear, chased the dog, eaten breakfast, rolled and jumped on the bed, watched TV, pushed toys around in the wagon, chased the dog again, played with magnets, and loaded the dishwasher.  And he went down for his morning nap.  It's 10:00 am.  Which means I have roughly 7 more hours until Stacey gets home from work, and up to 9 hours before Patrick gets home.

How am I ever going to entertain him?

I would take him out somewhere, but the wind chill is a toe-numbing -8 degrees.    Eek.  No way do I want him out in that.  Especially since the roads are still a little yucky from all the snow.  And the drivers around here are notorious for freaking out over even the least bit of precipitation.  No, unfortunately, it's safer all around to just stay indoors.  Again.  And try not to go completely insane.