Somebody call Child Protection Services
The DragonMonkey tugs at my knees, whining.
"Meeeeh! MEEEhhhhhbwaaaat bwaaaaat MEEEH!" He doesn't exactly say words yet, but the face and the tone say it all. Pick me up! Play with me! I'm bored!
Sighing, I push away from the computer desk, taking care not to trip over the Expensive Toy #37 that he never actually plays with, frowning at the explosion of torn paper, kitchen utensils and clean diapers that now coat my floor. Maybe I should just give up and buy diapers as toys? What's the point of buying all the brightly-colored, bilingual, brain-building toys if he never actually touches them?
"Upsy-daisy!" I cry in a falsely cheerful voice as I swoop him into the air. I may be bored of playing toss-the-baby but he doesn't need to know that.
The DragonMonkey immediately giggles.
"Upsy-daisy! Whoop! Up-Up! Arriba! Yip!" I throw him in the air time after time, smiling as his giggles turn into deep belly laughter. He could do this all day and never get tired of it.
Me? My arms are screaming at me to put him down, triceps doing their tell-tale tremble that lets me know I'll pay for this tomorrow morning.
I try to lower him to the ground, and his good mood vanishes instantly. Laughter turns to a high-pitched squeal, and he draws his knees up to his chest, avoiding the ground.
I sigh, and lift him back up to my hip. I know I'm probably creating a whiny little brat, but it's been a long day and I'm just too tired to deal with disciplining him at the moment.
I make a couple of faces at him, and he stares back at me blandly.
Tough crowd.
"DragonMonkey, Mama can't toss you all day. She's got flabby old lady arms. It hurts."
He stares at me pointedly, lip trembling.
This is going south, fast.
On a whim I hold him close to my body and spin in a tight circle, stopping to watch his reaction.
He grins widely, then flaps his arms in excitement.
"Baaat! BWAAT!" Apparently "bwat" is toddler-ese for "Yes, mother, that was a very enjoyable experience. Please, shall we do it again? I would be ever so thankful."
Obediently, I tuck him close to my body and spin in several circles. This time even I get a little dizzy. As soon as I stop I place him on his hands and knees to watch his reaction.
He's grinning widely, eyes wide in wonder. I laugh out loud as I watch him swivel his head around in a vague circle as he does his best to follow the spinning room. When his own personal roller coaster stops he stands up slowly, waits to regain his balance, and then dashes to me as fast as his chubby legs will toddle him. "BWAT. BWAAAAT," he orders imperiously, tugging at my pants again.
Ever obedient, I pick him up, tuck him in, and proceed to spin. I decide to push things a little further this time, spinning faster and longer, until I'm almost too dizzy to stand. Grinning in anticipation, I place him carefully on his hands and knees.
"MwaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH!" He bursts into terrified tears, head spinning wildly on his scrawny neck.
Ooops. Too much. I've spun the baby too much.
Before I can reach down to grab him, he pushes himself into a standing position and (still howling) bolts straight into the corner of the fridge. He knocks himself so hard on his forehead that his feet fly out from underneath him and he hits the back of his head on the linoleum floor.
Oh yeah. It's mine. Don't even argue about this one.
"Meeeeh! MEEEhhhhhbwaaaat bwaaaaat MEEEH!" He doesn't exactly say words yet, but the face and the tone say it all. Pick me up! Play with me! I'm bored!
Sighing, I push away from the computer desk, taking care not to trip over the Expensive Toy #37 that he never actually plays with, frowning at the explosion of torn paper, kitchen utensils and clean diapers that now coat my floor. Maybe I should just give up and buy diapers as toys? What's the point of buying all the brightly-colored, bilingual, brain-building toys if he never actually touches them?
"Upsy-daisy!" I cry in a falsely cheerful voice as I swoop him into the air. I may be bored of playing toss-the-baby but he doesn't need to know that.
The DragonMonkey immediately giggles.
"Upsy-daisy! Whoop! Up-Up! Arriba! Yip!" I throw him in the air time after time, smiling as his giggles turn into deep belly laughter. He could do this all day and never get tired of it.
Me? My arms are screaming at me to put him down, triceps doing their tell-tale tremble that lets me know I'll pay for this tomorrow morning.
I try to lower him to the ground, and his good mood vanishes instantly. Laughter turns to a high-pitched squeal, and he draws his knees up to his chest, avoiding the ground.
I sigh, and lift him back up to my hip. I know I'm probably creating a whiny little brat, but it's been a long day and I'm just too tired to deal with disciplining him at the moment.
I make a couple of faces at him, and he stares back at me blandly.
Tough crowd.
"DragonMonkey, Mama can't toss you all day. She's got flabby old lady arms. It hurts."
He stares at me pointedly, lip trembling.
This is going south, fast.
On a whim I hold him close to my body and spin in a tight circle, stopping to watch his reaction.
He grins widely, then flaps his arms in excitement.
"Baaat! BWAAT!" Apparently "bwat" is toddler-ese for "Yes, mother, that was a very enjoyable experience. Please, shall we do it again? I would be ever so thankful."
Obediently, I tuck him close to my body and spin in several circles. This time even I get a little dizzy. As soon as I stop I place him on his hands and knees to watch his reaction.
He's grinning widely, eyes wide in wonder. I laugh out loud as I watch him swivel his head around in a vague circle as he does his best to follow the spinning room. When his own personal roller coaster stops he stands up slowly, waits to regain his balance, and then dashes to me as fast as his chubby legs will toddle him. "BWAT. BWAAAAT," he orders imperiously, tugging at my pants again.
Ever obedient, I pick him up, tuck him in, and proceed to spin. I decide to push things a little further this time, spinning faster and longer, until I'm almost too dizzy to stand. Grinning in anticipation, I place him carefully on his hands and knees.
"MwaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH!" He bursts into terrified tears, head spinning wildly on his scrawny neck.
Ooops. Too much. I've spun the baby too much.
Before I can reach down to grab him, he pushes himself into a standing position and (still howling) bolts straight into the corner of the fridge. He knocks himself so hard on his forehead that his feet fly out from underneath him and he hits the back of his head on the linoleum floor.
Oh yeah. It's mine. Don't even argue about this one.
Labels: Embarrassing Stories, Kids
posted by Becky at
6:10 PM
5 Comments:
Gah! I hope he's okay. o_o
But, I expect him to be romping about...based on my [limited] babysitting experience, I find toddlers bounce back rather quickly.
And-- I completely agree with the baby-toys-idea. They never actually play with those things that supposedly 'stimulate their brains'.
Yeah, there is a fine line between not enough and too much. Unfortuantely, the kid always wants you to err on the side of too much.
Eek! Hope he's ok! I've done similar to both my boys... you'd think I'd have learned first time round, right? ;)
LMAO...that was awesome. Been there; done that! Love your honesty.
Is it wrong that I found that hilariously funny. Look at that bright girl Veronica that comments here.I chased her into a door once.Her brother paid me back though when he gave me a black eye as we were playing chasings through the house on a wet day.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home