This morning, I was finishing up a narration with Jackson downstairs while the “littles” were upstairs “playing”. I hear Hudson, our adventuresome daredevil, say “la la (his nickname for Chloe) if I get in trouble with this, run downstairs and get help.” (At least he had the forethought to think of possibly needing help and that what he was about to do might tun out badly. I am still not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.) Before I even had time to find out what was going on, I hear a loud crash and Hudson crying hysterically, while they both run down stairs.
While I put ice on a slightly bloody, goose egg sized knot on his head, I found out that he put their desk chair on top of the dresser and then proceeded to climb on top of it and attempted to jump the three feet across the room onto the top bunk. It obviously failed miserably.
After he had calmed down he said, “Mom I have a good idea, we can go to the grocery store and show the cookie lady my bump and she will give me a cookie and then I will feel all better.” I decided I wouldn’t tell him about the time that Mommy climbed a tree and swung a garden hose over the limb in order to swing around like Tarzan. My youthful zeal had the energy and lack of fear to conquer said task, however my three year old mind didn’t have the logical thinking skills needed to know that I must grab both sides of the hose so that gravity wouldn’t have its way with me. I ended up in the ER with a sprained ankle. Good Times People. I am reliving my childhood.
One cookie later, we are all off for quiet time.
Peace to all furniture jumpers today.
