My tiny toddler is a 2 year old going on 10. His current favorite word is poop and I often walk into his room in the morning to find him laying in his crib, hand down the front of his diaper. The noises, the potty humor, the messes, the nose dives off every piece of furniture we own... sometimes it's a lot to deal with.
Last summer/fall my big five year old had back to back sports. Between flag football and tee ball we were at some sort of ball field two times a week. I loved watching my little guy play- especially football. He's fast and he gets the rules and truly loves the sport, which means I love watching him playing it. But the mud on his shoes. The gross wet mouth guard being spit into my hand. The dirty uniforms. The dirt and mud everywhere- the car, the house, the washing machine. All the sports practices and everything that comes along with it- the laundry, the snack prep, the getting the whole family out the door on time, on top of the astronomical number of hours we watch sports on the TV. Backyard time is all, "Mommy play football with me. Mommy throw the ball to me. Mommy tackle me!" It's like I live inside the ESPN channel. And when we are in the the backyard NOT playing sports someone is taking a nose dive off the toddler slide.
I have been caught by my son's doctor explaining to a stuffed sheep why we don't say the word poop. I have listened to my tiny toddler yell poop up and down the aisles of the local grocery store, with what felt like hundreds of witnesses. I have been trapped in a car while two of my boys (husband and oldest son) sing, "Under a shady tree, poop and pee", to Laurie Berkner. (The real words are "Under a shady tree, you and me...") When we leave school at the end of the day and I tell my tiny toddler to say "goodbye" to his friends he turns back to them and shouts "Bye Bye Pee Pee!". I have no idea if he is addressing the class as a whole or if there is one little friend worthy of the name "Pee Pee". When I ask my tiny toddler a seemingly innocent question such as "What is Daddy doing?" I get this response, "Daddy Poop!" or "Daddy ewwww!" (in our family, like every other family, we have our own little language. "Make ewww" is something we just started saying to the big five year old when he was a baby, as in "Did you make ewww? Do you need your diaper changed?")
I freeze and hold my breath countless times a day as I watch one of both of my boys fling themselves off the couch onto the floor. I may be over reacting but I swear they are going to break their necks one day somersaulting off the living room furniture. I pick them up and dust them off after they catapult themselves off the top of the sofa, dropping straight down to the floor, often head first. I watch in horror as the big five year old slides down the banister and flies down a hill on his bike. They stand up in the tub, dance on the coffee table, bounce on the bed... I can see how the momma of those bed bouncing monkeys kept letting her little monkey babies fall off the bed, one after the other. Although I doubt I would have called the doctor each time. I wonder, frequently, how I would know if they one day suffer some horrible head trauma from all this boy induced craziness. I mean, let's face it, they act pretty strange on a good day. Last week I witnessed my tiny toddler run straight into a tall glass display case at church, one that he has walked up to a thousand times. He ran right at it like a bull, bouncing off and falling backwards. Yesterday he fell off his Hot Wheels motorcycle, while it was standing still. He wasn't even riding it. Took a nose dive off the motorcycle.
Every book we read in this house is about sports, or trucks, or monster trucks, or cars, or NASCAR, or wheels, or dinosaurs, or diggers and bulldozers, or Santa. The tiny toddler has a thing for "Ho Ho". Every. Single. Book.And there is no sitting still for the reading of these books. Eventually someone takes a nose dive off the chair.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes we have tea parties. But eventually one of the stuffed animals gets tackled, tea is spilled, little tiny cups are used as weapons, cookies are smashed into the carpet. And someone takes a nose dive off the couch. Even if we are eating at the table the boys end up on the table and the food ends up on the floor. And then, one, or both, of the boys also ends up on the floor.
|yes, he was just run over by that truck. another nose dive.|
Someone always takes a nose dive.