Gone Baby, Gone

While my parents were in town, John and I took the chance to leave for Montreal for a weekend via train. We reasoned that this would be one of the only times that we could feel secure in knowing that a set of our own parents were in charge of the little man while we made a dash for it. Admittedly we had a challenge avoiding the subject of Ivan during conversation. He’s just such a huge part of our lives, words lead us back to the marvel of our son. As much fun as we had re-living our former life as two instead of three, I don’t think I’d ever leave him for that amount of time again in the near future. Ivan seemed to do very well in the hands of his grandparents but we did notice that he experienced bouts of separation anxiety when we returned for a couple days afterwards. There were two instances where he bawled when his Dad appeared suddenly then left the room. Crying, except for during night waking, is very uncharacteristic for him. Many parents danced their children around Montreal and I found myself craning my neck in envy. At one point John said “I’m jealous of everyone here on there bikes.” To that I replied, “I’m jealous of everyone here with their kids.”

I borrowed a page from my mother’s school of list-loving and wrote a detailed manual on his schedule and manner in which he is accustomed to being cared for. Some suggestions were made on proper food combining ie. No veggies with fruit, no proteins with starchs, etc. We’ll see if the chef can convince the patron. To date it’s been a real challenge getting him to eat many vegetables except for yams and carrots. He despises all things green. The delicate trick here is to keep trying over time but make sure that meals are an enjoyable experience for him.