Oh How the Mighty Have Fallen

A few minutes ago, I realized just how little Gabe likes me these days.

As Libby has been home these last ten days (and usually a day or two a week since the beginning of June), Gabe has come to rely on her being around. If he had his drothers, Mama would take him to bed (when she went to bed, of course, and not a minute before), get him up in the morning (when he got up, of course, and not a minute later), spend the entire day with him, then put him to bed again the next night. He is, quite literally, obsessed with her these days. If she leaves the room, even just to go to the bathroom, he starts whimpering and sobbing for "Mama! Mama!" then he'll bury his head into his arms in utter anguish while he weeps bitter tears. Then Libby comes back into the room and he runs up and hugs her.

The depth of his obsession is what has progressed these last few months--noticeably, I think, even in the last week that she's been home. Libby has always been his favorite--but until recently, I was at least a passable substitute. Today, though, I finally realized just how low I've sunk in his esteem thanks to three specific instances.

The first happened this afternoon. Gabe snagged a toe on one of the many toys that he MUST have strewn across the floor in the living room. "Owie! Owie!" he wailed--though he mostly does this for the attention, when he actually hurts himself, he often doesn't make a noise--wanting us to give him a hug and kiss his boo boo. I'm sitting less than two steps away from him, so I lean over and pull him onto my lap to give him a hug, and I kiss his smelly little boy foot. Because I'm a great guy.

The second instance of Daddy Dissing happened when we went over to Kris and Jess' so the boys could play together. Gabe wanted to do some coloring on the floor in the living room, so he wanted the little tupperware filled with crayons opened. At the time, Libby was in the other room looking up houses on the internet (because that's one of her hobbies), and Jessica was looking over her shoulder. I was sitting in the chair, right next to Gabe, so close that, had he not picked up the container of crayons and moved it, I could have picked it up first. Once he picked it up and started asking for it to be opened, I said, "Here you go, Gabe, I can open it." But, instead of simply handing it to me--an action he wouldn't have even had to get up to do--he carried the tupperware into the other room and asked Jessica to open it. So, not only was I lower on the totem pole than Libby, but now Jessica ranked higher.

Finally, tonight, when we put him to bed, came the final blow to my self esteem. We put him up to bed at 8:00--his normal bed time, but tonight he was definitely not interested in going to bed. Once upstairs, he started whining almost immediately. It started with cries for "Mama." After a few minutes of that, he decided it was time to open up the field to see what he could get. So he started calling something new: "Mama! Baby! Daddy!"

Yes, I was included in the list, and I suppose at this point I should be happy to be thought of as an option at all, but to be next on the list after THE BABY, who clearly couldn't navigate the stairs, much less help him get out of bed, is a real slam, I think. And the worst part is, I don't even have an owie that Mama can kiss and make better since my owies are all inside. Boo hoo.

And, as promised, I checked the videos on the camera, but there wasn't much on there. Libby did get some video of him in his new shark flotation device that we're taking on our vacation to the water park next week (stay tuned for what I'm sure will be an epic description of how that goes later next week). It's kind of funny.

But first, here's a picture of Button, since I haven't posted any new pictures of her lately.

Not her best picture. She looks like an angry little old lady. But she's definitely getting bigger! Funny how that works.

I'm not sure whether I should correct him or not concerning the noises sharks make--not for the sake of accuracy, more to make sure he doesn't anger some shark somewhere down the line. Even though they are the "bear of the sea," I'm pretty sure sharks don't actually growl. If they say anything, it's probably closer to "I'm going to eat your legs! I'm going to eat your legs!" But, then, that wouldn't even be audible to the human ear without some sort of amplifier or something. Might be worth teaching Gabe to say "I'm going to eat your legs," though, just for the hilariousness that would ensue.