Every once in a while something happens that makes we laugh so hard that I cry. It used to happen more often. When Big Girl was in preschool there were times when I was crying and trying to parent at the same time about once a week. With tears streaming down my face, squashing the giggles, I would pull of fantastic feats of parenting.
The day we were at the playground and she unwrapped her snack and buried it in the ground.... I looked at her, and having watched Curious George earlier that morning, knowing that she was saving the snack for later, just like George and Jumpy the Squirrel. (Season 1, Episode 9) I tried to talk through it with her. I think I got as far as, "what are you doing honey?" before I had to turn around and stop the giggles and tears.
That day I just let her bury her snack bar. I talked to her later and explained that while it worked out for squirrels, people should really not put snacks in the ground.... because you know, bugs live there, and while she is great at sharing, its probably not the best idea to share food with bugs.
Looking back I ask myself what I was thinking. We don't put food in the ground because its not a good idea to share with bugs. Seriously. Not it will spoil, or it will be full of germs. Nope. I covered sharing with bugs.
... Now Little Man is getting to that age.
The other night we were distracted by the missing library book discovery (P.S. I forgot to turn it in, so now its overdue anyway!) that we left the door to the garage open.
The next thing I knew Little Man had the huge flying disk inside.
He learned how to throw the Frisbee outside earlier this summer - and has become quite successful at it. and, thus far avoided disaster. No trees. No injuries. Good times. Thus far.
Back to the other night.
He grabbed the disk from the toy boy, ran up the few stairs and into the playroom. Very happy and very giggly. He got to the middle of the room, yelled "Ma."
Before I could stand up from the floor or get the words out of my mouth to hubby, "he is gonna throw that. All that work teaching him, and he is gonna get it to seriously fly in the house."
Just as the word "house" came out of my mouth, and I was standing up all of the way. BAM!
Frisbee in the face. The forehead and eye specifically.
It has a soft foam edge. It really didn't work, but I had to turn around because I was crying instead of laughing. I tried to say something to him.
I thin it was, "Don't throw the Frisbee at Mommy."
But I just couldn't keep it together. So, I turned around. As I was collecting myself Hubby told the kids to go give me hugs because I was hurt badly. The climbed on top of me. Burying me with hugs.
Ha. He thought he was so funny. He took the Frisbee back outside.
Don't throw the Frisbee at Mommy. Never mind your Dad or sister or friends. Go ahead an throw it at them. Brilliant. Never mind the house. Never mind the big 'ol TV that was spared by my face catching the Frisbee. I came up with "Don't throw the Frisbee at Mommy."
It seems the funnier the kids are, the worse my parenting. That's okay. Because, these silly times are some of my favorite memories.