Another Grafton!

The man in front of us in the GBO airport security line turned around after the security check and asked, "Did I hear correctly that your son's name is Grafton?" We replied that indeed it was, expecting him to comment on the uniqueness of the name (a common response). He then confirmed the spelling with us and then with a look of disbelief shared the nature of his surprise. Namely that one of his three sons too was named GRAFTON!

Shellfish Allergy: Confirmed

We suspected Grafton had an allergy to shrimp, after a Christmas night incident where he purged his dinner. Last night we had scallops. By 10:30pm we knew that shellfish would no longer be on the Kid's Menu at our house. He's doing fine this morning, but had a rough few hours last night. His parents are a little weary as well.

Leather Parchment

Grafton has been practicing his writing a lot lately. He has a minor obsession with pens and paper. Every piece of paper he sees lying around, he asks, "Can I write on that?" Which is nice, because he didn't always ask initially, believing all paper was specifically intended for him (including bills, and such). Similarly with pens, he picks up any one that he sees and walks around with it, looking for paper to write on. (Though we decided to put an end to this practice, to keep him safe from pointy pen tips during high rates of translocation.)

So a few mornings ago, Mom had headed off to work, while Dad continued to get ready. Grafton was sitting in the living room, and requested to watch cartoons. But Dad encouraged him to listen to music instead, and Grafton agreed to some Johnny Cash. With Grafton occupied, Dad headed upstairs to finish getting ready. A little while later, Grafton called up and announced, "I did my letters!" To which Dad responded encouragingly, "That's great! Can I see them?" I headed downstairs to see what he had written, but Grafton was still sitting on the couch. "Where did you write your letters?," I asked my proud son. I was confused when he pointed to the leather couch he was still sitting on. And when he looked up at me to see whether his father was proud of him, he must have been equally surprised by my dropped jaw and gaze of horror. "WHAT DID YOU DO, GRAFTON!?," I yelled out. And instantly he realized that he had done something rather bad. I immediately sent him to his room for a timeout (mostly so that I could calm down myself), and he was already crying as he went up the stairs. I looked down at the couch one more time to read his fingernail-etched glyphs: "AHL".

We had our talk a few minutes later, and we left it at that.  I told Mom about the transgression after Grafton went to bed that night, to save him from another act of parental retribution.

The next day, Grafton sat on the couch once more. This time he got to watch cartoons. And he wore gloves. Interestingly, this was his idea, not mine, and he noted that with these on he wouldn't be able to scratch the couch again!

Written Identity

Grafton has taken the first step towards writing his autobiography. Namely, the ability to write his own name, without guidance, prompting, or copying.

Restaurant Ruse

The last couple of nights, Grafton has enjoyed playing the role of waiter during dinner time. He prepares a menu, takes orders from his customer, brings out the food to the table when the cook yells "Order Up!", and even provides the bill at the end of the meal.  Mom has played the role of diner, while Dad has played the role of cook. Now that we've been through this a couple of times, Dad finally realized he's been tricked into cooking dinner all by himself, while Mom sits at the table waiting to be served! We're switching roles tomorrow!

Powder Play

Two snow storms this week left a nice snow cover over South Hadley. So here's what we did:

• After breakfast, Grafton and Dad suited up in their worker snow gear and headed out to the garage, grabbing our snow shovels.
• We spent about half an hour clearing the snow from the driveway (2nd time this week).
• Headed back inside for a snack.
• Suited up for 20-something degree weather and packed the cross country skis in the car.
• Drove to the Ledges Golf Course, 5 minutes away.
• Took Neva's skis out of the car.
• Decided it was too windy and cold at this spot and drove to the nearby Orchards Golf course instead.
• Put on our ski boots, realized Neva's skis were still at the Ledges course.
• Neva drove back to retrieve her skis, while the boys got suited up and hit the trails.
• Grafton and Dad made it about 1/10th of a mile before Mom showed up.
• Grafton and Dad skied together for about 45 min, then Mom took over watching Grafton.
• Back at the car, headed home.
• Back at home, unpacked the skis, ate lunch, suited up and packed the car for afternoon sledding.
• Drove to nearby hill.
• Got out of the car, started to unbuckle Grafton, realized we forgot his winter coat.
• Drove home, got his coat, drove back to the sledding hill.
• Met up with Landon and his family.
• Grafton and Landon sledded for over an hour, catching air off jumps, wiping out, and diving out of the way of other sledders as they re-ascended the hill (Mom and Dad got a few runs in themselves).
• Grafton throws major tantrum at the bottom of the hill on what would be his final run (due to absolute exhaustion, no doubt). 
• Back at home, had snack, then watched out our photos and videos from the day.

Further Practical Considerations Regarding Holiday Gift Delivery

As a follow up to Mom's recent post, I'll add that Grafton really is giving a lot of thought to the practicality of Santa Claus and his gift delivery duties.

A few days ago, he asked me if Santa Claus came to my house when I was a boy. I said he did, and Grafton followed up with, "Did you have a chimney in your house when you were a boy?". I had to say no, and of course he was curious how Santa could have delivered the gifts. I explained Santa had many tricks for getting his gifts inside houses, including knowing how to open doors!

This morning, Grafton and I were sitting by the fireplace, and he was asking about how Santa can climb up and down a chimney, asking about ladders and such. I explained that he must keep his hands and feet pushed against the inner sides of the chimney as he descends and ascends. Grafton was concerned that he would wear out his boots shuffling along the bricks. I quickly explained that Santa replaces his boot every year.

I think Grafton is on the cusp of an epiphany about the realities of the man from the North Pole...