We live in a tiny apartment. The three-year-old doesn’t mind. She can craft or pretend that she lives in a house under E’s desk.
But Baby B has just learned to walk. He is a restless soul. He does not like long mornings. He has started waking up at 4am again, and we don’t leave to take his big sister to preschool until 9.
It gets to be too much, the baby following me around at 7 holding my shoes and screaming. Then he gets his shoes. Then he starts pulling the stroller around the hallway.
The signals are so subtle, they were hard to decipher. Did he want a bath? To sleep again? Maybe to read a book?
No, it turns out he wanted to go out. Who knew?!?
So I have started walking the baby. About 6:30 we throw on some clothes and just go out the front door. It is literally us and the dog walkers, the only difference that I do not have a leash and the dogs are not picking flowers and trying to chew on cigarette butts.
We wander around. We climb stairs. Yesterday, we crossed the street about seven times.
Then we come back in, and he is satiated. For about an hour. Then he gets the shoes again.
But then he has to wait, because E has gone to school and I have to go visit my friend Shoobi in this cute little house under a desk …
Dispatches from Daddyland 