I am rarely that type of parent.
More often that not if I am crying about something one of my children has done it is with laughter.
The most recent example is too freakin' funny to keep to ourselves.
For Christmas my cousin and her husband gave Big Girl a bike lock.
For some reason they had come into a whole bunch of them (something to do with his job?) and they knew
|Check out the loot! Two bikes for two kids - how freakin' great!|
When she got the lock she was very excited. We set the "magic code" to a number she wouldn't forget. If you see us at the park - the only ones with a bike locked up - don't try our house number, it would never be that. She immediately started locking things up and then unlocking them.
We are talking pot holders locked to my Mom's kitchen chairs. Pacifiers to Little Man's middle. The wheels to the frame of her bike. It was funny, but not pretty.
|Imagine this around the middle of a 13 month old. Photo from dicksportinggoods.com.|
A few days ago she remembered the lock that we had placed out of sight - but apparently not out of mind - and asked my wonderful husband if she could use it.
He, having witnessed the past lock entertainment and not being as amused as myself asked what for.
- This is the part that gets me laughing and crying -
She wanted to lock her bike up. She wanted to chain it to the workbench. In the garage. Inside. In front of the cars. Next to the tool box.
"To keep it safe."
Just get me some tissues. I am laughing right now sitting at the computer. My mascara is running and I just can't help it.
But kids cry too. For certain young ladies a little too often. For babies tears are almost a daily occurrence meaning anything from "I want candy," to "I don't want my diaper changed," to "you fool why did you let me hit myself in the head with that toy?"
Last night was one of - or maybe even the - first real tears of sadness for Little Man.
To understand this story, you first have to understand that one of his favorite toys for the last several months has been a wooden spoon. Its been a constant favorite since before Halloween (its in the pumpkin carving pictures, so it was around for awhile if we were having it in photos.) He loves the spoon. Uses it as a drum stick, a teether, an instrument of torture when his sister is doing something he isn't and wants to be included. Sometimes it hides for a few days at a time, but it always comes back.
Well. It used to always come back.
Yesterday during a routie jam session the spoon broke. I wasn't there. The sitter was. She sweetly saved it for us on the kitchen counter (its been on countless car rides and even play dates with her, so she knows how much it is/was loved).
When I came in and started making dinner I found the spoon. In two pieces. Sharp and unfit for little hands.
When my Little Man (who was in my arms) saw his spoon he leaned in for it. I had to say no and said that it was all done.
My poor little guy cried. It was so sad. I offered him a newer spoon (provided by Santa in his stocking) but it wasn't the same.
The new ones (good 'ol Santa brought two) aren't seasoned and loved quite enough. Over the next few days, we'll just have to put them through the ringer to get him back to normal.
Perhaps some good chili is in order to season the spoons....