Sunday, November 20, 2005

My kids...

...are absolutely hysterical!

Today, they came to the office with me to do a few things here. In the car on the way, my youngest (age 4) dropped a chicken nugget in the car and started crying, "my poor, poor chicken!"

Once we got to my office (located inside building materials warehouse), they discovered that a small songbird had found its way into the warehouse before the doors were closed to business on Friday. My daughter, who is 5, wanted a drink very badly. However, she was not about to walk through that warehouse to the front office to get her soda. "Mommy, please! There's a bird in there!" No amount of convincing, cajoling, or reason was going to work. Thinking quickly (as I've learned to do after 3 children), I grabbed an empty box that once held small bubble wrap mailers. Picking up my scissors, I poked a few holes in one side of the box, somehow managed to cut out a child-face-sized rectangle on the short side of the box, and dropped it over her head. "There. Now you have a helmet. Let's see what that bird is made of now." From the safety of her cardboard helmet, and much to the embarrassment and dismay of her older brother, my baby girl walked the walk without fear or hesitation.

And then tonight, at rehearsals for our church's Christmas children's play, my nine year old (who has the lead role) was doing awesome. That is, until we looked up and his face and arms were covered in blood. He gets nosebleeds easily, especially when he's upset or sick. With an audible thud, I'm sure, my heart dropped into my stomach. I ran up onto the stage with a wad of tissues, and helped him apply pressure. My hands were shaking and my heart was racing: as a complete and total self-confessed worrier, I was sure that the stress had gotten to him. Doing my best "I'm dying inside but determined to be good mom" routine, I put my arm around him. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go wash you up." We walked out of the sanctuary and into the vestibule. As I was scrubbing blood off of his arms with a wet paper towel, my boy started to speak. "Mom, I swear I didn't know I would get a nosebleed. I just wanted to see if those two magnets would hold on either side of my nose." "WHAT!?!?!?" I shrieked. Pulling two magnetized pieces of a Magnetix toy (which he received Saturday for his birthday) out of his pocket, my son explained that he had attempted to fasten magnets around his nose during a lull in the rehearsal. Nice. Skills. Mad skills. Most likely inherited from his terribly spastic and goofy mom.

No comments: