"Oh, I Wish I Were an Oscar Mayer Wiener..."

As parents, we wear many hats.  We know that one day, we will have to act as counselors to the lovesick.  I thought (hoped) that this wouldn't happen until the kids are teenagers.  I need time to study this stuff, you know?  I still haven't figured out how to handle the emotional issues that come with potty training, much less a bad breakup.  Well, it's time to start cramming.  I'll order some parenting books and pull an all-nighter.  I have to figure this out, and fast.  Blake is in love, and it's going to end in a bad way.

On Tuesday, I came "home" to find the Wienermobile parked in our hotel parking lot.  I quickly ushered the kids outside, trying to explain to them what we were about to see.  Blake wanted to head to the pool ("Water, water, SPLASH!  Imming poooool!) and Hadley wanted to do laundry (seriously), but I scooped one up in each arm and headed out the door.  Little did I know that Blake was about to experience love at first sight.

Alas, it was short lived.  The hotdogger (yes, that's what they are called), hopped in the wienermobile and said she was had to go; she was late for yoga.  Blake cried as he watched the "erbile" drive away.

Tyler looks pretty upset, too.

That was Tuesday, today is Sunday.  I recently learned the days of the week from this video, so now I'm  just showing off.  Anyway, my poor son has had to endure the torture of a love lost, day, after day, after day.  Every morning, Blake wakes up crying for the "erbile."  He immediately asks to be lifted up to the window, only to find that the winermobile is gone.  However, sometime around 4:00 or 5:00 PM, it magically appears back in the parking lot.  I know that Blake loves me, but the excitement he shows when I come home from works pales in comparison to the look on his face when he sees that his beloved wienermobile has returned.  He begs to stand in the window, "erbile, look at it!"  He gets upset when he sees other people go near it.  He runs to get his shoes and asks to go outside.  He hugs it, kicks the tires, peeks inside the windows.  He cries when it's time to go inside.  He returns to the window a handful of times before going to bed.  He blows kisses, says, "goodnight erbile, lub you."  He then cries himself to sleep, begging for the wienermobile.  Rest, rewind, repeat.  

Tomorrow, we'll move back into our house, and the weinermobile will move on to the next town.  In attempts to ease Blake's pain, we've ordered wienermobile collectibles galore.  I can't wait to see his face when the box arrives on the doorstep.  Until then, I'm going to work on making my way back into his heart.  Call me selfish, but I'm just not ready to share this kid yet.  Maybe in 15 years.  

P.S.  Blake isn't the only one that's growing up too fast.  First, she starts wearing lipstick.  Then, look who we caught peeing on a downtown sidewalk late at night.  Is there a parenting book for that one?  Oy Vey!