I noticed recently that Jackson has developed an affinity for balls. He will play with any shape or size ball, but really the bigger the better. So Monday I was waiting for a perscription in RiteAid and saw one of those tall wire baskets full of rubber balls I remember from when I was kid. I bought 2, convinced Lola would pretty much ignore hers and Jackson would absolutely love his. I was far more right than I wanted to be.
Jackson carried one of those balls around all afternoon. At one point he even tried to carry both of them. The impossibility of the feat frustrated him greatly. If his sister approached him he would run away panicking that he couldn't get away from her fast enough; she might steal his ball. Of course this made for a game and she enjoyed tormenting him throughout the afternoon. In one particularly frightened escape his feet couldn't keep up with his desire to flee and he fell. Rather than drop the ball and catch himself with his hands he fell forward onto the ball and bounced right on to his face. Of course I consoled him as he cried, holding him tight as he held on tightly to his ball. I drew the line at taking the ball into the bathtub. That night, exhausted by my tourmented Jackson, I threw both balls outside of the deck where they remain. When I get the guts to bring them back into play I will have a nice icy cup of gin in my hand.