worn out by the sutton boys - part one

It's not what you think, unfortunately.

The other day I volunteered to help a friend out. Amelie Sutton, an attorney friend of mine and all-around superwoman, has two lovely little boys. Nicholas, at six "and a half" is classically handsome, current girl magnet and future heartbreaker. Mannerly, intelligent, sweet, mostly. I am quite fond of Nicholas. But I am helplessly in love with his younger brother, Jackson. Jackson is simply the most adorable child on the planet. Really. I don't exaggerate. He's three and a half, even though his birthday is in May. Curly hair, dimples, kind of chubby, but his body is so thick Amelie didn't have a babysitter so, between jobs as I am, I volunteered to watch the most adorable child on the planet, and his older brother.

I come prepared with Legos and Play-Doh. They greet me in their jammies. We have Lucky Charms together. A bonding moment, I think. We settle down to Legos. I gotta tell ya, little kids: cute, but not so great with organization skills. They just dumped out blocks from different kits and started sticking pieces together. However, they also wanted the helicopters and fire trucks featured on the box. Nicholas wanted a fire truck. Jackson was attempting I don't even know what. I don't remember Legos being so complex. They oughta come with schematics. Jackson tells me that he had a Lego police car somewhere but he didn't know where. I suggested that it was out chasing Lego criminals. Jackson fixes me with this quizzical look. I can't decipher it. Finally he says, with adorable three-and-a-half-year-old contempt, "It can't move." Point taken. One does not talk down to Jackson. Well, you know what happened. I get stuck making the toys, which iss fun, but mentally fatiguing.

Jackson tires of Legos so I get the Dora the Explorer edition of Candyland out and tell him I'll play it with him as soon as I finish Nicholas' fire truck. He sets it up all by himself. By the time Nick and I are ready to join him his token has managed to make it's way to the finish line. Sweetly, he has a chosen a girl token to represent me. She's still at start. Nicholas makes to move J's token back to start and Jackson yells his fury. "I won," he stamps his foot. "I won." Well, we ask, against whom did he play. "Myself," he says, wondering why he has to state the obvious. At this he turns and wanders off, apparently bored with the issue. I need a break. To occupy them I let them watch their Scooby-Doo dvd early and make their lunch. By this time they're both down to their underwear. Turns out they find clothes confining. So be it.

After lunch it's Jackson's nap time. He resists. I cajole. He exhibits surprisingly good negotiation skills, maybe because both of his parents are lawyers. We broker a five-minute delay as compromise. After an interval, maybe it's been five minutes, who knows, he can't tell time, I re-approach, determined to get my way. He protests. I threaten. I eye him, thinking I can just carry him if he won't cooperate. He reads my mind. "You can't pick me up. I'm too heavy," he informs me neutrally. Turns out he's right. The kid is filled with rocks. Nicholas lends his support and somehow we both convince Jackson that nap time is inevitable. Maybe it was the threat to call his mommy. Little boys are always scared of mommy trouble.