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Will has apparently decided he wants to be an only child. He's expressed this desire by whacking his father in a rather sensitive area with a maraca twice in the past week or so. Not his father's favorite new habit, to be sure.
He's going through this rather unintentionally violent phase right now. Hitting people in the face, pulling hair, shoving his thumb so far up the Husband's nose that a nose bleed ensued. And when we look at him and say no, he laughs.
Sigh.
If he starts torturing the teddy bears, I'll worry.
I know that all of these things are normal, and that he'll grow out of them. I know he isn't being hurtful on purpose. But that means very little when you've just been whacked in the face--HARD--by a telephone in a little hand.
In other news, I had my balance test yesterday. Most of it, anyway. THe last portion of the test involved my lying back with my eyes closed while the tech ran cold water in each of my ears to induce a dizzy response. The right ear made me a little nauseous. The left ear made me so nauseous I cried and couldn't move for 15 minutes. She was supposed to continue on and repeat the process with a stream of warm water, but I declined. Vomiting on the table just wasn't on my agenda for the day.
Even without the last round, she could tell me that my responses (even the nausea) were "normal and healthy." This of course means that I am back at square "I don't have any idea what's wrong with you." Or, at least I will be when I head back to the doctor's office next Thursday. The only good part of the whole affair is that the dizziness is slowly fading, but that still doesn't give me any clue as to what causes it or if it will happen again, two years or two months down the road.
I think that if I had to choose, I prefer getting hit in the face with the telephone. At least the cause and effect there are clear.
On a happier note, the plumbers have finished the rough work in my mom's house, so we're one step closer to separate living. THe insulation and drywall come in next. Yahoo! Won't be done by Easter, but perhaps by Memorial Day she'll be in her own space. Memorial Day is a nice goal. Only six months past the original one...
Quiet moment is over--Will is done reading his books to the fish, so I'm off. Good weekend, everyone.
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