Fred and I are home-bodies. Ask us and we'll tell you that our ideal weekend is loafing around the house in pajamas. Ask Elliot and he'll look up at you, cock his head to the side and say "bye bye?" in his most pathetic almost-whining voice.
Alright, alright. I get it. You don't want to stay home all day, every day.
He only had to say it 17 times before we got the picture: being home Thursday night through Saturday was too much. Bye bye? Shoos? Coat? Bye bye? Saturday night we went grocery shopping.
Around 3 on Sunday he started in again. Bye bye? Bye bye? Coat? Go? Bye bye? I headed to the gym and Fred took Elliot to Wal-Mart to cruise the aisles.
For two distinct reasons this is a bad place to be: 1) Elliot thinks he always gets his way and 2) We come home with extra stuff we didn't "need" but wanted because we were there like cookies and Christmas decorations.
To emphasize his point, he took off running at daycare this morning, yelling "Hayeeee" (Haley). Found her, hugged her, kissed her and plopped in her lap. He then gave me that snooty little look as if you to say Oh, Mom, you're still here? Aren't you supposed to be gone?
Again, son, I get it.