The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

More Fodder for My Kids’ Shrinks in 20 Years

This morning between the big kids drop-off at 7:15 and the Jonas drop-off at 8:30 I was in our guest room frantically attempting to shovel a path through the toys from the door to the bed because my in-laws are going to be here for a visit in t-minus 24 hours and it’s not that fun to wake up in the middle of the night to pee and be impaled in the bottoms of your feet by legos. In fact, in some countries that’s considered a violation of the Geneva Convention.

Jonas was in the loft watching Ice Age until he apparently got bored and decided he wanted to come help me clean; which actually means almost instantaneously recombining all of the toy categories I’ve already separated out into one giant pile. It’s like as soon as he walks into the room a magnetic field emanates from his hair that causes the matchbox cars to jump into the Zhu-Zhu pets container which mixes with the Thomas the Train box and combines into the crate of musical instruments and I’m back to square one.

Instead of losing all of my progress I jumped into action and attempted a diversionary tactic. Before he could descend upon the room of toys, I scooped Jonas up with my right arm under his knees and my left under his arms and carried him out into the open space in the loft. He giggled and tossed his head back and said, “But Mommy, I want to HELP.” Um, please, Dude. This is not my first rodeo. I’ve fallen for that one before and learned my lesson.

I replied, “No way, Jose’! I’m going to flip you!” and because I’m sometimes that fun mom who rough-houses and has tickle wars and spins my kids around until they’re so dizzy they fall down I attempted to flip his feet over his head and drop him down on his feet. It was supposed to go like the girls at the sock hop in the poodle skirts who flip back over the boys’ arms and land effortlessly on their feet. Looking back, yes, it was a terrible idea from the start, but at the moment it sounded hilarious and awesome.

I tossed his legs up and over his head with my right arm and let go with my left. The physics seems spot on to me; how could it miss? Of course he wasn’t an active participant in the flip so instead of tucking and rolling, he went down like a rock and landed right on his face.

I gasped in horror and pulled him off the ground in a bear hug. He cried hot, indignant tears. ‘You hit me in the face!’ he sobbed.

I didn’t actually hit him in the face, obviously. I dropped him on his face. I’m not sure the distinction wins me any points, though. By the time I got him to Montessori this morning he had carpet burn on his cheek/lip area.

I just know this is how the conversation at school is going to go:

Concerned teacher: Jonas, what happened here on your face?

Jonas: My mom hit me in the face.

Even more concerned teacher: She what?

Jonas: She was trying to flip me over and my face hit the ground and it hurt.

Dialing the number for CPS teacher: I see.

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