Hard headed children

My son has always been a bit hard headed. I blame it on Killer Baby Ball.

When he was a toddler we lived in a duplex in a very small town. It was a two bedroom, small kitchen and even smaller bathroom. When we first moved in my foot went through the bathroom floor and the landlord had to replace it. The floor, not my foot. I didn't use the dryer in the summer, I would just hang the clothes outside. I'd like to live in a place where that was possible again. I love the smell of air dried clothes. I still dream about that house, that I move back in there. Sometimes the house is in better shape, sometimes far worse. I wonder it that house is symbolic of my internal state somehow?

But back to Killer Baby Ball.
The duplex had a long-ish hall way. Hubby and I would sit on the floor at opposite ends with The Boy in between us. We would play a bastardized version of Monkey in the Middle/Dodge ball. We would bounce the ball off his his head to each other. I know! Looking back at that know, I can't believe it either. But, Man, that boy loved it! He would laugh and laugh as he ran back and forth trying to catch the ball. And in our defense, we would do just about anything to hear that wonderful laugh.

Once when he was about three we were talking about apples. He told me there were only red apples. Insisted really. I tried to explain, but to no avail. I knew what I had to do. We went to the store and bought one of every apple they had. He wasn't impressed, but he enjoyed the apples.