“I tayant (can’t)!” he bellowed to me, pouty lip protruding.
“Yes you can, baby. You aren’t going to fall today. You can hold my hand, see?”
Except holding his hand was more like dragging him from street-to-street while he clippity-clopped in his “Buzz Wite-Year” sneakers with no socks. He resisted every step he took, holding his feet back in fear of falling during our walk again.
Today’s walk was considerably slower than the day before, even after yesterday’s fall, he continued running and trying to “beat me.” But it wasn’t until I pointed out the scuff on his knee was bleeding, about three-quarters of the way home, that he instantaneously stopped, and our walk ceased to be fun and playful anymore. (Please remind me never, ever to notice if he’s bleeding before we finish? Okay?) The second I pointed out his boo-boo, he stopped and hobbled as he sluggishly scuffed his sneakers against the sidewalk, holding his shorts up to avoid touching his now-suddenly-aching boo-boo.
“Mommy, tarry me!” he proclaimed desperately.
“You’re fine, Dude. You’ve just got a scratch. Mommy will put a band-aid on it when we get home.”
“NO! NO, MOMMY, YOU TAYANT (can’t)! IT WILL HOIT (hurt)!”
Sigh.
And so, the last mile of our walk was grueling, and today’s walk was even more-so. My husband is home for the long weekend, too, wanting to take our walk with us. Unfortunately, the only sweat we experienced while getting fresh air today was due to the sun beating down on us, barely moving, and my constant toddler-dragging.
So much for family exercise. (And THIS is why strollers were invented.)
But damn, he’s cute, huh?
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