I find myself wondering why kids do what they do much of the day. Even during work. I tell my coworkers about Little Boy G’s latest antics and they laugh and laugh. I guess it’s good that they can find humor in the things LBG does. I certainly do. Even the ones without kids get a kick out of the sometimes bizarre things he gets himself into.
For instance, the other night, he was taking a bath. I use the time to wander about upstairs, picking up his socks and underwear, which he routinely tosses as high as he can into the air just before climbing into the tub. I check on him every once in a while to make sure he’s not up to anything unsavory. Trust me, it happens. Just ask the bars of soap. But I digress…
During one of my checks, I stepped into the bathroom. G is sitting in the tub, holding tightly to..let’s just call it his ‘pennies.’ And he’s grimacing.
“What happened, G? Did you hurt yourself?”
He nods yes, indeedy.
“Did you hurt your ‘pennies’?
Nod, nod, yes, yes.
“A shark was swimming by and it….bit me.” Grimace, grimace.
I see a shark floating next to him and I pick it up. It’s a plastic shark with very hard, very sharp, and very unforgiving teeth and a mouth that is open just wide enough to fit, well, pennies.
“Oh, dear. G, did you put your pennies in the shark’s mouth?”
“Oh, G. Did you think that would feel good?”
“But it didn’t, did it?”
He shakes his head, oh no, not in the least.
“Well, let’s not do that again, okay?”
“Okay, mama. He’s a bad shark. I don’t like him anymore.”
Honestly. What was he thinking? I mean, I know what he was thinking, but sheesh, what else looks enticing to him? And should I put it out of reach so he doesn’t hurt himself? Are there any worse stories than this out there? Please share with us if there are. Misery loves company after all.