Mundane here…
My daughter, in her crib for various offenses, decided to make the great escape. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t know about Gravity.
One thud later, she has learned Gravity is not too friendly. Rick, her older brother, said “Uh-oh” and pointed to her, with all the wisdom a 2.5 year old can muster.
Everything is fine now, I’m just sleep deprived and bored.
Its a welcome lesson. Physics of daily life.
The chemistry in making toast is the next step.
Soon there will be the opprtunity to learn all about ballistics.
Feeding time can be such fun!
Ballistics. That would be Rick, the aspiring Major league Pitcher. At age two he’s got a evil sidearm and good fastball.
Aim, however, is not one of his strong points. 
You have a 2.5-year-old son who pitches for the Cardinals?
As a baby, just learning to climb, I managed to throw myself headfirst out of the crib on several occasions, once knocking myself out for a few seconds. I scared my poor mom half to death. Now she jokes that she didn’t have to drop me on my head, I did it myself.
snicker Heck No! If he’s going to play for anybody, it’ll be someone I can tolerate to watch. That leaves the Braves, Yankees, Mets, and Cubs right out, also.
So then you don’t like to watch teams win a lot or lose a lot, do you?
I dunno…I can think of a Rick with the Cards whose aim in the playoffs was real questionable…
Yankees/Mets: From New Yawk. Who cares?
Cubs: the unlovable losers. Besides, Harry Carrey is dead.
Braves: Win a lot, but choke and die when it gets important. They don’t want to win the big games.
So… I’m kinda stuck.
Didi, gravity sucks in a big way. Luckily, that’s what Daddy’s there for. Many Happy Catches, Saint Z!
I spent 3 hours in the pediatric emergency room Tuesday night after my middle daughter (the Playground Queen) decided to see if see had a prehensile face. See does not. Two stitches on her upper lip, just below the nose. We call them her whiskers.
Nothing like watching election returns and facial stitching simultaneously. Does all that blood mean she voted for Gore?
Well, it was about four years ago now, but my wife was out and my (then) 3 year old daughter starting choking on piece of a sucker. I grabbed her and did the heimlich(sp?) and spent the next couple of hours chain-smoking and shaking. That’s pretty damn scary.
MY daughter did something like that. She found a can tab that had come off a can and tried chewing on it. Kept chewing and chewing, but it got stuck in her mouth and she started coughing. I finally clued in that she didn’t have a cold, she had something in her mouth stuck. I fished it out, and she doesn’t do that anymore.
Kids.
(Note to self:)
Lobby Congress for Warning Labels to be placed on all kids at time of manufacture.
This child is an accident looking for a place to happen. Suggest you keep in padded room until at least 21 years of age to avoid (A) the sudden arrival of premature gray hair (B) loosing much needed sleep for 20 years © consuming large amounts of alcohol (D) consuming large amounts of tranquilizers (E) needing psychiatric therapy (F) divorce or (G) running screaming down the street ripping hair out of head.
Let’s see. Both these are about me. When I was in second grade, I was removing the cap from the toothpaste one morning when I inhaled at an inopportune time. This was pre-Heimlick, or at least before it was widely known. My mom JUST BARELY managed to reach the toothpaste cap with the tips of her fingernails and pull it out.
Second, when I was 2 1/2, my parents brought my newborn baby sister home for the first time. She was in a baby carrier, and they put it on the end of the table. I was so excited to see her that I ran over, reached up, grabbed the end of the baby carrier, and pulled.
FLIP
She never even woke up until she hit the floor. Somehow, that moment had defined our relationship ever since…
Not long after my son learned how to roll, I had him on the couch, and I was desperately trying to change his diaper (once they get that rolling thing down, they do not stop). I had to reach for the baby wipes, and while I was doing this, I unfortunately had to take my hand off him for a split second. He chose that second to flip himself right off the couch, and landed on his back, on our hardwood floor. Ow. He wasn’t hurt, but he was scared, and very surprised. My daughter totally freaked. She was screaming & crying her head off. So now I’ve got this shrieking four-month-old, and a completely unglued three-year-old. It was pretty loud for a little while. After I got both of them calmed down, I went in to the bathroom and had my own minor nervous breakdown.
Me: (Budding gymnast, hanging by his knees from a branch in the backyard crabapple tree)
Wheee!
Byron: (Best friend who I think never really liked me)
Betcha can’t let go with your legs and grab that branch right below you with your hands.
Me: (Setting aside any modicum or common sense, like I often did)
Can, too!
:::lets go of branch with knees, misses grip on lower branch, proceeding to rotate body wildly:::
Ground: THUMP!
Me: (Nothing. You can’t talk when the wind is knocked out of you.)
-a few minutes later-
Me: (Seeing my forearm is no longer straight and getting bigger by the moment)
I’d better go show my mom.
(Then walking inside the house.)
Mother: What was that…oh Jesus!
And that’s how I got a cast on my arm for my eighth birthday.
Gravity. It’s the law.
I want a show of hands please.
How many got ‘tinkled’ on by that darling little boy who held enough back to get you when you changed his diaper?
(Raises hand.)
I think they do this on purpose. Notice how they giggle their butts off afterwards?
I still have a scar right on my hairline from when I smacked the corner of the coffee table as a young’un. Evidently, I tripped over the blanket I used to drag everywhere.
Now, of course, the scar is just a handy indicator of how far my hairline has receded. sigh…