Hurricane Robin
July 31st, 2008
Last night, we dug out some foam alphabet blocks that had been stashed somewhere last time we cleaned Robin’s room. And we learned a new facet of his personality.
We would stack the blocks up.
Robin would knock them down.
We’d make a neat pyramid.
He’d scatter it.
We’d stuff all the blocks in a container and he’d stomp over (and somehow it was stomping despite being on all fours) and pull them all out.
From across the room, he’d charge a four-block tower like it was an affront to God, or at least him, and whack it over, and then pick up the individual blocks and toss them aside.
He didn’t laugh. He stuck out his little jaw in an expression of grim determination.
Later, he was on his back on the floor drinking his bedtime bottle. I stacked all the blocks into a mega-tower. He looked at it, and waved his feet toward it, as if he could kick it over from the other side of the room. When that didn’t work, he took his bottle out of his mouth, and stared meaningfully at the tower. Then he popped the bottle back in again, as if to say, “I’ll be coming for you later.”
And he did. He scattered those blocks far and wide. Then he threw them, for good measure.
Are you really sure you want to get him ‘wooden’ blocks for his birthday?