June 11, 2012 by Marj Hatzell
I’m the first to admit I don’t always understand my kids.
And I don’t mean understand, in a communication way. I mean understand, as in “what the heck are they thinking and how do I get inside that brain?”
Bugaboo’s collections. As long as this child has been mobile he has had little “collections.” He’ll pick up odds and ends from around the house and take them back to his “home base.” Home base is wherever he decides he is hanging out that day. For example, the trampoline. Daddy’s closet. The basement playrooom and/or swing. The Living Room couch. And now that the floors are torn up and there’s no furniture except in the Family Room, he hangs out there. Now, we have this GIGANTIC sectional. HUGE. It’s bigger than two full-sized couches put together. We bought it a few years ago because, well, large family. Family gatherings. ‘Nuff said.
Anywho, Bugaboo can fill the entire couch with his “collections.” And lately, since he’s been in that fantastic mood, he’s got days worth of stuff surrounding him.
But this isn’t good for him. I know that. I KNOW he needs to get out and play. I KNOW he shouldn’t be sitting at home with a blanket over his head, playing the ipad for hours. We’re really struggling. But when he jumps around the house and has his little collections going? I know he’s doing better.
Because if he’s making a holy mess? Eating lotion? Stealing my utensils? He’s back to being Bugaboo.