17, 2001 - Monday
For about 45 minutes after we got home from daycare, this was one of the absolute best times I've had with Harry waiting for his mother to come home. We didn't go to the playground. We tried to go to the library but I'd forgotten it's closed on Mondays. So, we just came home and played in the driveway. But, more than ever before, we were playing together. Harry had one of his little plastic golf clubs and I had another, and rather than getting upset that he didn't have both (that everything wasn't "mine"), Harry would hit the ball and let me hit it back. He'd laugh as he chased the rolling ball around the driveway and I'd cheer as he made contact and sent me running. When that was done we played in the yard, ending up with him climbing on top of me trying to tickle, me wrestling is little body away, and both of us laughing. And then, all of a sudden, it stopped.
Harry's mother had just driven into the driveway and some new negative thought had entered his head and the rest of the evening was disaster. It sounds rather suspect, I know, but I don't think mommy had anything to do with it. More than likely, Harry saw his new obsession, the red car mommy drives, and remembered he wanted to play in it. Perhaps, more, he remembered that yesterday he had to be physically removed from the car when it was time for dinner. He doesn't do anything bad in there; in fact, it's quite charming to see him sitting in the driver's seat, far too small for anything, but reaching around trying to touch all the buttons and knobs. It's just that Harry didn't want to leave and at this age, Harry is getting to know what he wants and apparently, remember it.