Morning Fuss

As I've previously noted, there's a mappable arc to his obsessions.
My responses track that arc in an equally predictable way.
Mild annoyance (or not so mild annoyance, depending) and indulgence initially, followed by acceptance, anticipation and amusement, and finally grief.

Not operatic old Sicilian lady rending her garments in the town square grief, but a definite sadness. Right around when you pick up the rhythm and start enjoying whatever his deal is, he drops it like its hot and leaves you confused and sputtering.

"But...but, you LOVE playing with the little motorized airplane suckers at the grocery store!", you whine, presenting a bouquet of them while he fixes you with the stare of a busy CEO exiting a limo and finding a mangy hippy at the curb selling handwoven hemp friendship bracelets and wildcrafted sage for gas money to fill up the van.

Kids evolve fast.

This morning's unhappy discovery was finding 'help dada make coffee' and 'stir the eggs', two pillars of our morning routine, have suddenly become déclassé. He almost literally turned up his nose at the previously coveted job of stirring the eggs, in favor of digging through the silverware drawer and making sculptures from the various tea steepers therein.

This streamlined the whole process; breakfast was served in about half the usual time, which would've been a cause for celebration a month or so back, but which on this gray raining morning germinated a seed of melancholy in my breast.

In no time I had him installed in his chair with eggs, toast, apple and sippy cup, happily noshing away.

I started grinding the coffee, anticipating his cries of TOO LOUD, but he just sat there looking at me, face smeared with piddy butter from his toast, and the seed began to sprout. Was I to lose all our morning rituals on the same day? On the heels of a time change, in the rain? With a tenacious headcold living behind my eyes like an octopus in a reef?

But he eventually took pity, breaking his deadpan with a huge smile and a shouted TOO LOUD, DADA! TOO LOUD!

So today, I'm giving thanks for the little things.