Bunlet turned three on Saturday. We gave him his own room. I suggested this to Mr. Bunny as a good idea for a birthday present and he very kindly got off his ass and made the last bits happen, including moving an ENTIRE SOFA down a flight of stairs BY HIMSELF and APOLOGIZING for the fact that it all took so long. So his status as best spouse I’ve ever had has been restored.*
Bunlet really likes having a space of his own that is not a guest room.
Bunlet is a little child now–all child shaped. I worry about expecting too much of him. Because he’s close in age to Bun Bun, it’s hard to remember that he’s just barely three, and really shouldn’t be expected to show her level of emotional control or social prowess. Partly it’s hard because he does, frequently. She’s more tantrumy, he’s more likely to offer a suggestion for solving their mutual problem. Of course, he’s also more likely to hit her and to provoke her (e.g., I’m playing with the toy you like *waves it in her face*). Sometimes I find them reading** books together in a quiet spot…that’s one of my favorite things.
I worry that I worry less about him than I do about Bun Bun. I struggle not to see her through the lens of Little Me, I struggle not to project my own fears and experiences onto her. I spend more time just enjoying him, which seems unfair. Somehow. To someone. Probably to Bun Bun.
He’s very cuddly. During bedtime I lie down with them for a bit and talk and sing, and he wants to be all wrapped up and held. And his plan for when he starts school is to put all the other children and the teacher in a closet so that he and Bun Bun can have all the activities to themselves.
So probably I don’t need to worry about him at all. I think he’s turning out reasonably well.
*At age six, I married my stuffed rabbit.
**”Reading” = saying the words if memorized, or making up a story otherwise.