The Monkey on My Back
Abbie has a horse. His name is Walter. Walter isn’t a real horse in the sense that he eats, breathes, or possesses limbs. Walter is a plush horse head on a stick, suitable for riding about the house like a broom handle, or whacking her family members in the head as she haphazardly turns.
Ellie bought Walter for her a couple months ago. She thought Abbie enjoyed looking at horses in her books so much that she might enjoy riding one, and since we couldn’t fit a gargantuan bouncy horse or even a modest-sized rocking horse in our home, Walter was the closest she would get. Abbie had no experience riding things, and I wasn’t sure what she’d do with Walter. Kiss him? Drag him around the house? Run away in terror?
Abbie hopped on Walter and rode him around the store at first sight. Apparently children have an innate desire to ride things, just like they have an innate desire to throw food and tear important papers. We brought him home, and ever since, Abbie has ridden him several times a week, often to the sounds of her parents singing the theme song from Bonanza.*
I was happy with Abbie’s riding options, but about a week ago, Ellie encouraged her to expand her options. I was sitting on the floor engaging in a little escapism from my life as a parent by reading my latest issue of Parents. Ellie noticed the easy access to my back, and prodded Abbie to climb aboard for a piggyback ride. I helped her climb on my shoulders, gave her a ride around the house, and a good time was had by everyone except my back.
I light turned on in her head that day as she discovered that people can ride other people.** Ever since then she’s been obsessed with piggyback rides, taking every opportunity to climb on our backs. Sometimes I oblige her and hoist her onto my shoulders. Other times I ignore her and she climbs onto my shoulders anyway. This is especially hazardous when I’m hunched over the newspaper trying to read it while the kids run/crawl around the yard hopefully not sticking things in their mouths. I do my best to ignore her until I’ve finished Doonesbury, but she has a knack for finding tender spots in my back to use as footholds. To find these soft spots, she lifts the back of my shirt to use my pant line as a stepstool. Eventually she works her way onto my shoulders and bounces, making Dear Abby very hard to read. At this point I flip her forward onto the ground, she runs around to my back, and the process restarts.
She’s also experimenting with different riding partners. She’s tried climbing onto mommy on several occasions, and has found varying experiences depending on whether or not she’s trying to nap. She tried climbing onto Ian’s back last night, but quickly discovered he couldn’t/wouldn’t support her weight. Then she tried Tory and found the same thing. She’s even tried giving me a ride, or at least I think that’s what she’s doing when she holds onto my legs while I’m trying to walk. This sounds cute, and it is as long as there aren’t any screaming babies that I’m trying to address. If I do have a wailing little man, I keep with me until I can divert her attention to something else, such as riding Walter. Walter is usually easy to find; Abbie usually drops him when she notices her brother is crying after Walter whacked him in the head.
* “Dum da-da-dum da-da-dum da-da ridin’ Walter. Dum da-da-dum da-da-dum da-da-dum, gonna ride all night.”
** I’m hoping a similar light turns on soon to help her discover that just because she can put something in her mouth, it doesn’t mean that she should.
Ellie bought Walter for her a couple months ago. She thought Abbie enjoyed looking at horses in her books so much that she might enjoy riding one, and since we couldn’t fit a gargantuan bouncy horse or even a modest-sized rocking horse in our home, Walter was the closest she would get. Abbie had no experience riding things, and I wasn’t sure what she’d do with Walter. Kiss him? Drag him around the house? Run away in terror?
Abbie hopped on Walter and rode him around the store at first sight. Apparently children have an innate desire to ride things, just like they have an innate desire to throw food and tear important papers. We brought him home, and ever since, Abbie has ridden him several times a week, often to the sounds of her parents singing the theme song from Bonanza.*
I was happy with Abbie’s riding options, but about a week ago, Ellie encouraged her to expand her options. I was sitting on the floor engaging in a little escapism from my life as a parent by reading my latest issue of Parents. Ellie noticed the easy access to my back, and prodded Abbie to climb aboard for a piggyback ride. I helped her climb on my shoulders, gave her a ride around the house, and a good time was had by everyone except my back.
I light turned on in her head that day as she discovered that people can ride other people.** Ever since then she’s been obsessed with piggyback rides, taking every opportunity to climb on our backs. Sometimes I oblige her and hoist her onto my shoulders. Other times I ignore her and she climbs onto my shoulders anyway. This is especially hazardous when I’m hunched over the newspaper trying to read it while the kids run/crawl around the yard hopefully not sticking things in their mouths. I do my best to ignore her until I’ve finished Doonesbury, but she has a knack for finding tender spots in my back to use as footholds. To find these soft spots, she lifts the back of my shirt to use my pant line as a stepstool. Eventually she works her way onto my shoulders and bounces, making Dear Abby very hard to read. At this point I flip her forward onto the ground, she runs around to my back, and the process restarts.
She’s also experimenting with different riding partners. She’s tried climbing onto mommy on several occasions, and has found varying experiences depending on whether or not she’s trying to nap. She tried climbing onto Ian’s back last night, but quickly discovered he couldn’t/wouldn’t support her weight. Then she tried Tory and found the same thing. She’s even tried giving me a ride, or at least I think that’s what she’s doing when she holds onto my legs while I’m trying to walk. This sounds cute, and it is as long as there aren’t any screaming babies that I’m trying to address. If I do have a wailing little man, I keep with me until I can divert her attention to something else, such as riding Walter. Walter is usually easy to find; Abbie usually drops him when she notices her brother is crying after Walter whacked him in the head.
* “Dum da-da-dum da-da-dum da-da ridin’ Walter. Dum da-da-dum da-da-dum da-da-dum, gonna ride all night.”
** I’m hoping a similar light turns on soon to help her discover that just because she can put something in her mouth, it doesn’t mean that she should.
posted by Matt at
11:27 PM
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