I dare say motherhood is teaching (forcing?) me to learn to CHILL. FREAKIN'. OUT.
My heart breaks a little that we don't have a backyard for my little boy to explore so from the beginning I was well aware that my living room would double as a playground. And that was OK with me. (I'll hold for the applause.)
So the first rule was "only jumping on the love sac"
which quickly dropped to "no jumping on the couch with your shoes on"
but the words that just came out of my mouth surprised me "please wipe your shoes before you jump on the couch."
Soon jumping on the couch got too predictable and Tommy has now taken to jumping across the couch. He starts at the end which meets the love sac, and he launches his little but as far as he can along the couch until he lands on his butt at the other end shouting "BOOOOOOM shaka lacka (shacka lacka)" then giggles as he scrambles back to the beginning for a repeat.
I've been impressed with just how far this kid can long jump.
My back was turned (lousy good for nothing work) so I don't know where he started this jump, but suddenly I heard head meet floorboards. I turned and he had flown right over the end of the couch.
I scooped up the weepy puddle that my boy sometimes becomes and rocked him while I kissed his noggin' asking if it hurt anywhere else.
He sobbed and wept and whimpered.
Then quite suddenly, he jumped out of my arms, pointed to the floor, accused it of "whacked my noggin'" and explained to me in his very best 2 year old language that he "missed". He pointed to the arm of the couch and told me "not right there. on the floor. bonka noggin'. I missed."
One talent Tommy definitely definitely has is being sad adorably. The child pouts for 1/2 second and you immediately fall in love with him. Heaven help you if he whines a little.
My goodness I love that boy.
I dread the day that he is too big for scooping and too brave for whimpering.
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