My sweet, sweet little baby is a brute.
Seriously. Quite often around this house you hear one of us saying, "Ow! William, NO!"
My little 13 month old darling has taken to throwing things. I vaugley remember this with the other three, but sleep deprivation does terrible things to your memory, and quite frankly, I couldn't tell you what the kids wore yesterday. I only know what I wore, because I put half of it back on this morning when I ran out of the house before showering. (see post below. It explains EVERYTHING.)
When Will started throwing things not only with reckless abandon, but in my humble opinion, precision, a few months ago, I was pretty impressed. I know, I know, every mother's children is the smartest, fastest, cutest, most brilliant child ever born, but I thougth this kid had a pretty good arm. So much so that I tentitively bragged about it at his one year check up. The nurse practicioner looked up from her notes and said, "um, we look to see if they'll kick a ball in your general direction around 18 months." She was impressed.
Damn straight. She should be!
As I began to have dreams of William playing in the major leauges when he grew up, I found them smashed to smitherines by small, hard objects flying through the air. A baseball here, a matchbox car there, small pans from Katie's kitchen, books, anything hard and light enough for him to hurl at us. With precision. Into our heads.
Every. Single. Time.
Poor James. As I sat on the floor reading to numbers 1,2, and 3 last night, number 4 was wandering around the room picking up every car, lego and Little People (Person?) he could get his hands on. We were ducking for cover every four seconds, until finally, I saw him pick up a rather largish wooden racecar out of the corner of my eye. I threw up a hand to deflect the weapon of choice of my little tyrant, and inadvertantly belted James in the eye with my hand. So much for sitting on my lap for story time-- that kid's not coming near me again for weeks!
What do I do?? This house is a breeding ground for all things flingable, and I don't want to squelch him. But man! There just aren't enough ice packs to go around!
1 comment:
That is Patrick for me. He just turned 2, but he has been our "thrower" for a good 6 months now. (Guess that 18 month theory is right!) Mostly it's his juice that gets hurled when he's disgusted with something. And, holy cow, my feet have been the recipients of MANY juice sippy cups thrown down in disgust by all 4 kids. Patrick, by far, has the best luck with nailing a FULL sippy cup on my foot. I'm thinking of wearing steel boots around the house. That kid is dangerous!
Post a Comment