8, 2001 - Thursday
I've been reflecting lately on the time I spend with Harry and have to concede that I've gotten into something of a rut. I still take him different places in the mornings, and that's still fun, but it's really always on my terms. If I need to run errands I turn that into something of an adventure with Harry, since most things are still new to him. (Actually, I find that going to stores is not so new now and Harry, once fascinated by the sights, is now intent on touching that which he sees. It's not such a good habit to let develop.) Or, if we play with the snow for a while, ride the escalators, go to the park, or see big trucks, it's ultimately something I've chosen to do.
It's the evenings with Harry that I've found to be more of a grind. We usually get home and eat dinner between 5:30 and 6:00, finishing by 6:15 at the latest. From there, it's another solid hour or more before Harry starts his bedtime routine and goes upstairs for a bath. Lately, that hour has seemed a long one, as Harry has claims his free reign of the living room and we, at best, play along, and minimally, guide traffic. During that hour I've often found myself waiting and looking toward the clock to watch the passage of time as much as at our son.
Of course, there's little doubt in my mind that parents around the world share this emotion: the work day is over, they're tired and ready to relax, but this organism of raw energy demands his due. And, we'd otherwise love to give it to him. When you get down to it, there are just a couple of hours a day that we're with Harry. We get up and get ready to go, we spend (admittedly tenuous) time in the car together, I have my hour of time in the morning, then he's off to daycare. It's that evening time that is really our daily time for fun with the family, yet on thin hours of sleep it can be hard for aging adults. The last couple of nights I've tried to remind myself that this is his time and it's been a lot more fun. We'll see how long that lasts.