The truth and comedy of being a wife and mother
Have you ever regretted one of those teaching moments? Have you regretted it because you were the one that got schooled…by your child?
Welcome to my world.
Last night Darren was making a fuss about going to bed. After sweetly saying “Amen” to his nightly prayers he just wouldn’t settle down. The hubby and I were resting in our room and he was singing, jumping up and down, kicking the side of his crib, rolling around; all those things crib bound toddlers do.
I, deciding to be productive, eventually started to sort laundry which happened outside Darren room.
This should have been my first sign that I was about to get schooled.
Teaching moment initiated. Ignoring mechanism activated.
“Mommy. Mommy. Mooooooommy. Mommy.” This ensued for the next two or three minutes.
And while I was mentally celebrating this teaching victory, I hear the patter of little.
“Hehehe. Hi Mommy”
I look down, and there is a little mischievous munchkin standing there. Grinning ear-to-ear at his newest accomplishment: CRIB CIMBING
Now the moments that followed are kind of blurry. I think I said something like “we have a problem” to the hubby. I might have tripped over the newly sorted laundry pile. The hubby probably looked at me like was crazy because I was: FREAKING OUT!
But Darren ended back in his crib. The laundry tossed into the washer. I was still freaking out, mentally at least; but calm had generally been restored.
Until I heard the thumbs of a little boy butt scooting down the stairs. Which once he reached the bottom he ran giggling into the living room, where he plopped himself on to the couch and said.
Now, what happened next isn’t a blur. After a look of disbelief at the hubby, (who I believe was trying to hide how impressed he was) I snapped in to mommy trickery mode.
Child: Check. Crib: Check. Light of: Trickery initiated.
Now, my pervious dealings with D-man should have kicked in and told me that turning out the lights wouldn’t work. But my still panic induced mind was grasping for straws.
And as I returned downstairs, I hoped victory would be mine.
Two minutes later, the patter of little feet echoed downstairs.
Man, that boy is fearless.
I am fearful he is going crack his noggin open. And know am posing as the night sentry.
That’s my punishment for being schooled by the D-man.