Sometimes something so incredibly
ridiculous happens that I can't process it without writing about it.
I'm putting this on facebook (bc that's where I put things), but if
you are a parent of one of my kids' friends, please don't share this
story with your kids. Scout and Timber would be embarrassed. Also,
this is a puke story so don't read unless you're cool with puke
stories.
Last night, I told the boys it was
bedtime at 8:10 but they asked for “just one more minute,
pleeeeeease” to finish their game. I said I would be back at 8:12
for bedtime. I got caught up in folding laundry and didn't look at
the clock until 8:14. As I walked down the hallway toward their room
I heard a soft *thud and
opened the door just in time to see Scout start scream-crying and pointing
accusingly at Timber, who is sitting wide-eyed across the room.
“HE
THREW THE BASEBALL AND HIT ME IN THE EARRRRRR!”
“HE
TOLD ME TO THROW THE BALL! HE TOLD ME TO THROW IT HARD!”
“IT
HUUUURRRRRRTS!!!”
At
this point, Timber starts scream-crying too. They're both
hysterical, both irrational, and, honestly, both should've been
asleep half an hour ago . . .
“HE
HIT ME IN THE EAR!”
“HE
TOLD ME TO!”
“HE
HIT ME!!!”
“I
DIDN'T MEAN TO!”
I
feel like I've passed on some admirable traits to my kids, but one
quality I wish they hadn't inherited is my strong gag reflex.
Sometimes just the THOUGHT that something MIGHT'VE touched his food will trigger Timber's gag reflex. They've all been sick with colds this week. Colds mean lots of snot.
Crying also means lots of snot.
Conditions were favorable for The
Perfect Storm.
First Scout's scream-crying morphed into
cry-gagging. “TRASH CAN!” I yelled, as I lunged across the room
for their trash can. I shoved it under Scout's face just in time . .
. just in time to hear Timber's scream-crying turn to cry-gagging
behind me. “TRASH CAN, TIMBER! OVER HERE!” I yelled, but there was only one
trash can. Sometime during these 30 seconds Chris had come to gawk at
us. In his defense, I imagine we were quite a spectacle – all three
of us gagging on the floor with me desperately trying to rally both boys over one trash
can. I yelled, “TRASH CAN! WIPES! PAPER TOWELS!” at him and couldn't
help laughing at how outrageous this moment was as I continued trying
to get Timber to join Scout snotting and gagging over the single trash can. He almost made
it. Chris had just thrown me a package of wipes and that package of
wipes became my only line of defense between what was coming out of
Timber and one of the few carpeted areas of our house. (At this point,
the doorbell rang -- of course someone would show up at our house right at this moment. But that was not my concern. I was at
battle.) The wipes held up just long enough for another trash can to
appear, along with paper towels and more wipes.
Whew! So now that the
frantic PROTECT THE CARPET push was over I concentrated my efforts on
calming the boys down. They were both still crying-gagging-puking into
their respective trash cans and again I found myself laughing. I
think that surprised them a little and they looked at me, looked at
each other, and then started laughing too. For a few more minutes
they alternated between crying and gagging and laughing and it was
all complete and utter ridiculousness.
The
life lessons here are 1) Don't ask people to throw baseballs at your
head, 2) Don't throw a baseball at someone's head, even if he asks
for it, and 3) If you say you're coming back at 8:12, DO NOT WAIT
UNTIL 8:14 to show up. It might be fine . . . or it might result in a snot-gag-cry-a-thon that could've been prevented if you'd JUST SHOWN UP AT THE DOOR 10 SECONDS EARLIER!
