"Fut and Walk"

It is Friday evening, the end of a long day and an even longer week. My toddler stands next to me, endlessly repeating the phrase "Fut and walk!" (run and walk), letting me know just what he wants to do as he charmingly mixes the two languages he knows. It is so darn charming, even after I am forced to listen to it over and over again, repeated about 50 times, and watch his eyes gaze pointedly at the deck door, beckoning me to lead him outside. Each time, my repeated answer is a variation of "No, not today, sweetie, Mommy is very tired." It has been a very long day. Repeating the same answer 50 times isn't helping.

He doesn't seem to comprehend my negative answer. He is not used to being refused on this simple, easily executable request, to go play in the backyard. I am not used to denying him this basic childhood need/wish to go outdoors once a day and exercise his limbs. My resolve to deny his request wanes; he is quickly wearing me down. Mommy guilt is kicking in. My mind cries, I just cannot.

His 51st request grants him his wish.

With resignation I give in at last, asking: "You really want to go outside?" His brightening face and elated reply is my reward: "Yeah! Fut and walk!"

Before we head out, I make it clear that this time, Mommy is neither going to fut, nor walk. She is going to sit under the deck with a book and watch Caleb do all the running and walking. He is fine with that: "Okay, Mommy." He grabs his own book. I try telling him that he will not need that for the running and walking he'll be doing, but he insists.

When the running and walking is all done and he's gotten some kind of yucky worms on his toy truck he threw into the wheelbarrow that filled up with rain in last night's thunderstorm, which wormy things also somehow got crushed on his truck, but not before they tried to crawl all over me... he is all ready to go back inside.

I carry the wormy toy truck with two careful fingers upstairs and spend the next ten minutes washing it. Then spend the next twenty minutes washing Caleb. After the bath, he quickly, contentedly falls asleep. And then, blissfully, so does his mother.

The End.

Tell me, who could refuse this face?

And who could deny this one?