Happy Fourth Birthday, SB!!

 Ok, seriously – where the hell does time go?

I can’t get my mind around the fact that you’re four years old.  It seems like only yesterday that you decided to show up two weeks early (I had a scheduled C-Section), and I showed up at the hospital completely unprepared, with my overnight bag containing (seriously) a hairbrush and a book (for all the leisurely reading I planned on doing).  I remember being so tired that I fell asleep in the car at the grocery store and woke up with drool all over the window; and being totally annoyed with SB’s papa that he couldn’t grow boobs and help out at night.  Those sweet, quiet days when you were a baby and splashed around in your little blue tub seem so far away now…

 You’ve taught me a lot in the past four years:

 Always greet each day with unabashed enthusiasm.

Never, ever leave a naked boy alone with a black marking pen

Jumping on the bed is “totally cool” and should be done as much as possible.

Flinging yourself off the bed is even more fun.

You can get away with a lot of naughty stuff if you shower me with hugs and kisses.

When you tell me you love me “to infinity and beyond” I secretly turn to mush, every time.

You can never have too many Hot Wheels.

Or Buzz and Woody toys.

Or toys in general.

You’re dangerous and I’m keeping track so that I can lord it over you when you’re older – one cracked rib when I was pregnant, a black eye, countless bruises, and a fat lip.

If I eat a car I’ll die.

Skittles should be incorporated into every meal, and I’m mean since I don’t do that.

I will never have privacy in the bathroom ever again.

But you will.

Nothing is funnier that burping and tooting.

Pink is ONLY for girls.

I’m a big girl so I can have pink.

Never give up a chance to sleep in mama’s bed.  You might get to touch a cat.

Cats are sharp.

Always stop to put worms back in the grass.

We can’t have a pet elephant because he’ll gush the dog.

But a pet alligator’s ok.

Always run, and if you can get away with it, scream while you’re running.

Underwear and a silk scarf make a fantastic super hero costume. 

“NO and NEVER” should always be tried first if you don’t want to do something.

Incessant whining causes mama to get crabby very quickly.  Revert to “please, I love you mama” immediately.

Too much TV makes you dumb (my brainwashing worked!)

Hide and seek never gets old.

 You can’t ride the dog.  EVER.

I love you SB, thanks for making every day another new adventure.  You are my stars and my moon and the whole sky.

 

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My Shiner…

In his eagerness to get to my slow, cranky, 18 year old cat who was sleeping by my head, SB (Small Boy) crawled over me and smacked his knee into my eye.  You know that moment when you think, “Oh SH*T, this is going to be bad”?  Well, it was.   

I’ve had a black eye for over a week now, and the reactions from people have been interesting, to say the least.  People either think that I’ve been beaten  (the cashier at the grocery store called me “honey bunny”), or they have their own SB horror stories to share. 

 One person told me her son got upset, threw a cup and broke her nose, and others have had collisions similar to mine (but to our credit, none involving a cat), and all kinds of random mishaps that have resulted in parents being left bloody, bruised and battered.

 As a result, I’ve determined that children are dangerous and one should either wear some sort of helmet or hockey mask whenever they’re around.  Maybe one of those shark proof suits made out of chain metal, too.

 So now I’m conducting a poll – share your stories with me.  Oddly, most of the parent bruises/breaks were caused by boys…anyone have dangerous girls out there?

 In the meantime, I’m just wearing sunglasses.  I tried applying cover-up with a trowel but that looked even worse.   Maybe I’ll start a fund for beaten parents.  Any donors?