December 3, 2008

Thank Goodness for Gravity

My two-year-old has tiny little legs. He's all torso with these powerful little stumpy legs and he's very strong. Last night he tried to lock me in the bathroom by throwing himself at the door and pushing it shut as I was pulling it open. It was not a pretty sight and I was certain someone was going to get something amputated.

He hops a lot and runs in circles. He jumps off chairs, off the couch, onto his brother, onto his parents. Once he jumped on me when I wasn't expecting it and it cost me two trips to the chiropractor. Lately he has been running across rooms and slamming into people so that he bounces off and falls to the floor. He likes to pretend he falls off things. He loves flying through the air, but much to my dismay he likes landing as well. I don't even understand how this is possible.

He was walking at nine months and climbing before that. He is fearless and I am fearful. He's a runner and in the mornings I have to hold his hand when we walk to the car (which he hates) because he likes to take off running and he almost runs faster than I do. This morning was one of those mornings... he wanted to go see the school buses that park near our house and he took off running. There we were, half the city's traffic going past our house with him running so fast flames were shooting off his backside and me behind him trying to close the gap before he can hit the street. We looked like Tom and Jerry complete with his silly, gleeful grin and my own mask of rage and frustration. It's a small town and I'm sure a daily event to drive by our house in the morning with people taking bets on what they'll see when they pass by. Fresh spectacles daily!

Often gravity is in my favor and probably the only thing that saves me. More often than not he tips forward and skips across the dirt like a smooth stone across water. That's when I make my move, snatching him up and hauling him across the yard under my arm like an angry bagpiper marching to war. "No-o-o! No-o-oh!" shrieks the bagpipe, his little legs flailing. It's good to be bigger. Okay, maybe slow, but when I catch him I'm good.

For now anyway.


  1. Aw! My youngest is 6 and this sounds
    *exactly* like him. My eldest has been to the ER once for shoving something up his nose (and we tried the clinic first!) My youngest has been 4 times (twice for allergic reactions, once for a split chin the week after the nose incident and once for a broken arm). I'm the mom at the playground yelling 'don't do that, I don't want to have to take you to the ER, you won't be with me!'

    Fun, eh?

  2. Well, so far we've not made the trips to the ER you've made. Whew! The worst we've had so far (knock wood) is a bloody mouth when he ran into a door frame. Whew.

    It's just so strange because our first son is pretty placid by comparison. Our mantra these days is, "We should have had them younger... we should have had them younger..." :)

  3. Hahah! I was pretty young, 21 (almost 22) with my first and 24 with the second. And I'm still pooped. This summer, the younger one decided to spend most of his time in trees. The one in our yard isn't really a tree (which didn't stop him), but we'd often find him in neighbor's tree.

    I've always had some gray in my hair, but every few days he make my heart race and I get a whole new batch of gray hairs. LOL.

  4. I think you youngest, Wendy, is ready for FOOTBALL!

  5. Well, I feel better that it's not just cause I'm getting old and out of shape. Whew.

    Hey, Ginny, are you ready for babysitting? :) MUAHAHAHA!


Tell me what's on your mind!