We had a busy--too busy--pre-Thanksgiving Wednesday, visiting Lesley and Paul, then the Gleesons, then Mom's, so it was no surprise that by the time we were driving away from Ballantine Road at dusk, Henry was cracking up. Still, the actual breakdown happened in an unexpected way.
"Mama!" he called excitedly from his car seat . "I saw two fawns!"
"Oh!" I said. I need to mention that Henry's car seat still faces backwards, so we don't really have the same view when I'm driving.
"Did you see them?" he asked.
"No, I didn't, but---" He correctly read this as the introduction to a little maternal soft-soaping, and immediately lost his shit.
"Turn around!" he shrieked. "Turn around! Turn around right now! Mommy, turn around!!" We'd driven another three or four blocks and he was already stopping between "turn" and "around" to suck his breath in hysterically.
I murmured pointless, placating things for a few more blocks. By then he was full-on screaming. "Turn around! Turn around!! My penis hurts! I have to pee! Stop this car!!!" We were half a mile from home, and I told him I was going to keep driving.
"No! No! No! Turn around! Mom-MEEEEE! I can't stop something unintelligible."
"What did you say?" I asked. "You can't stop shivering?" This seemed likely, because of his near-hysteria.
"NO!" he roared, repeating his cri de coeur. I still didn't get it. Once more, he mustered all his passion and will to make me understand.
"I (gasp) can't (gasp) stop (gasp) suffering!"
Oh, my love.
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