Handling George

This is my George. I just love him. He is too lovable to be real, sometimes. And sometimes he is totally awful. I have been watching him closely since Aurora got here, trying to see how he is taking it. So far, there hasn't been any change in his behavior, except the over-the-top adorable way he loves his baby sister.

He kisses her gently every time he walks into the room. He is forever taking the socks off her feet and hands so he can hold them. He apparently cares deeply about her choice of baby hats, because he swaps them out (or rather, insists that I swap them out) whenever she is sporting one he doesn't approve of.

Once, they both needed a bum change at the same time, so I laid them down on my bed, side by side, and changed them both in short order. He held her hand the whole time. He hovers nearby during many of our nursing sessions, looking for a chance to hold her and cuddle with us both.

The past several afternoons, he has sought Aurora and me out in my bed as we convalesce, and crawled into bed next to us, snuggled up and put himself down for a nap.

I love this boy. He is so fun and sweet and loving. His laugh is contagious, and he charms the socks right off me on a regular basis. He will hug and kiss any one of us randomly, and says "thank you much!" when we do even the simplest thing for him. He sings, and dances and reads books to himself as often as he asks us to read them to him. He is helpful and funny, and laughs at our jokes. He tells his own jokes, but we don't understand 80% of what he says.

George is also a super kinetic adrenaline junkie and high-octane aggressive, frequently crossing the line into downright violent. This is not a recent development. He was like that waaaay before the arrival of Baby No. Seven.

It is not uncommon for him to walk up to any one of his loving siblings and just whack them upside the head. Any item he happens to be holding - a table knife, a basketball, a shoe - is liable to be used as a weapon without any advance notice. He will bite, hit, kick, punch, pull hair, and head-butt with little or no provocation.

During the last three months of pregnancy, I relied so heavily on Hyrum and Mark to occupy and care for George's needs. I couldn't chase him down, I couldn't hold him while he kicked, and I wasn't very effective at defending myself from his aggression, let alone pulling him off of Eliza or Yvette when he tackled them out of the blue and started pummeling them. I am so very grateful for how much they worked with him to keep him occupied and happy, and to meet his insatiable need for roughhousing. I'm telling you, this kid...you could be darned near abusive in your play with him, and he will laugh his head off and come back begging for more!

I was honestly worried about the safety of my baby, because George does not discriminate... whether he is kissing or kicking. I am so glad he loves her so much, and is careful around her. We've had a few misses, mind you, when George has been roughhousing with his daddy, or throwing something without warning, and it whizzed just past or landed near Aurora. He is always sorry, and rushes over to kiss her, just in case. But it's small comfort to me that he doesn't think of it until after the fact.

As I said before, he has not changed in the days since Aurora arrived. Well, I take that back. He has less supervision than usual, so he has managed considerable more mischief. Yesterday was rough. He started the morning by gutting seventeen chapters out of Mark's copy of the Book of Mormon while I was in the shower, shredding the pages or crumpling them up and throwing them like ping pong balls. Later, he pulled some pictures off the wall, and broke one of the frames. The evening before, he dipped Mark's flashlight in the fish tank...not long after he conked Yvette in the head with a ratchet Hyrum left lying around. When he picked up the pipe wrench, I panicked. (Mark! Hyrum! WHY are there tools left out where George can get them!?!?) Even as I type, he is climbing on the computer desk, picking up disks, examining them carefully, and then chucking them out into the room as Frisbees.

Today, Mark and Hyrum went to a roofing service project, and the girls were all at a Primary activity. George and Aurora and I were home alone. George did not know how to handle that at all. He wandered around the house, opening doors, looking for everyone. He called, "Huhn! Huhn?" as he looked for his Hyrum (that's as close as he can get to saying his brother's name). "Guys! Guys?" He shouted out the back door, just in case someone was in the yard. When, finally, the back door opened to let the girls in from being dropped off, he looked at me with pure joy and said, "Home!!" and greeted his sisters with open arms and ardent hugs. Three hours later, when Mark and Hyrum got home, George was incapable of existing unless he was in physical contact with one of them.

I promise I am not whining. I am merely observing and assessing, and maybe venting a little. We're going to be OK. I love my George. And a lot of who he is right now is just age-appropriate. He is really lucky to have Hyrum for an older brother. No one is more patient with George than Hyrum is. Even when George punches him directly in the eye, Hyrum calmly counts to 10, picks the kid up, and takes him to go play catch, or to get a fruit snack, or to put on a movie for George to watch. And in turn, George worships Hyrum. Even as he attacks him with the stick he brought in from the yard.