Wiggles
A few years ago, Colleen and I went to visit our friends in Kansas City. At one point in the morning, Marc asked his son if he would like go watch the Wiggles, without hesitation his son looks up at him and says, “No, the Wiggles steal my soul.” We’ve recently discovered the Wiggles at the Beesley household, and I know, now, exactly what Marc’s son meant.
Last Friday, we had the opportunity to take Violet and one of her friends to see the Wiggles. Let me say that they are definitely better in person than they are on television.
Violet wasn’t too sure about the whole thing, at first. She sat on Colleen’s lap for the first half of the show with that look on her face. She seemed, almost, confused. Then, one of the songs that she likes a lot came on and she started dancing.
See the guy in the yellow shirt? That’s not Greg, it’s Sam. It used to be Greg, but Greg got cancer and had to drop out of the Wiggles, so now there’s Sam. The girl that came with us noticed that it wasn’t Greg. Sam was on stage, and she looks at Colleen and says, “Where’s Greg?” What, exactly, do you say to someone else’s kid when a question like that is asked? We just told her that Greg couldn’t be here tonight, so Sam is filling in for him. The kid turns to Colleen and says, “We’ll just call him Greg.” Crazy how those little minds work.
The Mason squeal has become unbearable. The pitch of the squeal has gone up, at least, an octave, if that was even possible. Soon, only dogs will be able to hear it, and that will be good. The terrible two’s have really kicked in. He’s been kind of mean lately. We used to hear him cry and we’d go in the living room and say, “Violet! Stop!” really loud. Now, it’s probably him instigating instead of her.
He’s definitely a little boy, no longer a baby. The only time I see the baby in him anymore is when I take him to bed at night and I’m holding him in my arms. He’s got a pretty sweet face.