Food

Picky eaters and allergy-safe cooking — the two aren’t necessarily unrelated.

Girl Gone Wonk

From policy to politics, this rant’s for you.

News

The day’s events in a family way — unless something else amuses me.

School days

From preschool to kindergarten — so far

Simple Gifts

Inexpensive homemade gifts, creative parties and low-cost projects, for Christmas and beyond. Many are easy enough for children to help.

Home » 9to5to9

The beating that’s worth it at bedtime

Submitted by on Monday, 2 June 2008 No Comment
Originally published April 20, 2008, thehive.modbee.com

A new neighbor, whose house is behind ours, was shocked during her evening walk recently to meet us and see the guys.

“There are only two? Really? It sounded like there are at least four.”

Some days it feels like it. Like today. My injury toll:
  • Mild concussion from a Little Guy head butt. Accidental, I think, resulting from a delusion on his part. “Power Rangers, Jungle Fury. Spirit of the Cheetah.” How he could enunciate that perfectly is beyond me – usually, F’s come out sounding like P’s and R’s like W’s.
  • Dislocated jaw from basketball with Big Guy, who figured out that if he couldn’t get around me he should instead shoot over. Except he doesn’t like the small basketball that came with their kiddy hoop, so he plays with a soccer ball. It hit me in the face, as visions of Rudy Tomjanovich danced in my head.
  • Sprained neck after Big Guy jumped off the back of the love seat and (almost) over me as I took too long getting Little Guy’s shoes on.
At least I got something out of it when they decided my back would make a grand drum. Those tiny fists worked all the tightness out of a chronically sore shoulder that no doubt has something to do with carrying a 30-pound purse.

After the neighbor left, I couldn’t decide if her comment was reassuring (good! it’s not just me who thinks they’re rowdy and loud) or embarrassing (if I were a better parent, they wouldn’t be such hellions.)

Not that they’re really hellions, despite that the “children should be seen, not heard, and watch lots of television” crowd would have me believe.

They’re just normal, active preschools. OK, maybe they’re a little abnormally active but, in my mind, it beats the alternative.

There were a few placid points of the day, as Little Guy chugged his Thomas trains through the kitchen and Big Guy played peacefully in his bedroom. I think they get sick of looking at each other sometimes.

And they did take a break from pummeling me to build castles out of blocks. After about a half hour, though, I wound up at the bottom of a human pyramid again. At least they’d cleaned up the blocks first.

It does get wearing at times, having to constant extricate myself from eight limbs or unwrap the guys from each other when they start getting too rough.

On the other hand, though, it was nice later this evening to be able to get most of the laundry folded as they chased each other around the house in their Christmas pajamas.

“We’re the Red Rangers from Operation Overdrive,” Big Guy explained.

It was even nicer a few hours later when they went to bed with nary a peep. “I just don’t think I can keep my eyes open any more,” Big Guy yawned.

And that made the concussion, sprain and dislocation worth it.

Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

Similar Posts:

Comments are closed.