It started out with the belief that silence was scary. This was before my sons could talk.
Inevitably, the room falls silent as the clattering of toys and chattering of toddlers ceases. The hush of doom blankets the room in a thick embrace – just long enough for a parent to run screeching toward the room containing a ticking time bomb. Suddenly a large CRASH/BANG breaks the silent tension. Followed quickly by a combination of maniacal laughter and banshee screams.
It never ends well.
Last weekend I changed my mind. I decided the worst a toddler could utter was, “Mommy, I poop the water.” And trust me – this is not a pleasant. But there is always the glimmer of hope that there is no rogue Code Brown floater in the water. Just self-designed bath bubbles from the possibility of broccoli enjoyment. (Destroy will eat anything.)
I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong. I was wrong.
The most terrifying sound a parent will ever hear is the phrase, “WATCH ME!”
Our living room was a giant game of mousetrap in the living room last night. At first, the boys cooperated – searching and destroying for all weak points in the household structure – to build a Rube Goldberg trap. But then once the wheels are set in motion, they turn against each other.
SEARCH AND DESTROY ALL THE THINGS!
Did you know that tiny people can clamor up onto the couch, climb atop the arms and jump off the back end.
Directly on to the Sit & Spin (conveniently pushed up against the furniture for maximum climbing chaos).
Which then flings them off onto the giraffe tricycle, thus zooming forward to crash into brothers carefully constructed Lego tower.
This triggers a full blown Muppet Meltdown – complete with full-flailing body flopping. (At this point Mommy considers joining in with her own nervous breakdown. Because, why not?)
Now, in case you were previously uninformed, Legos are true weapons of mass destruction. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Those fuckers HURT. And they purposely seek out your feet at the least opportune times. Like when you want to not be wounded.
The muppets are now in bed. They still sleep in cribs. So, really, I won this latest round of the trapping game.
The following is an actual conversation:
Friend: Oh my god – is Destroy ok?!
Me: Destroy is fine. Mommy has a black eye.
Friend: Another one?!
Me: Well, technically same eye. Different bruise. Just reinforced.
I was previously under the impression that a child’s sole purpose in life was to kill themselves. (Hence the point of parents.)
I stand corrected.
It’s to kill their parents. With small weapons of mass destruction. And a heart attack.
Breathe. And stock splints. Also, wine.