The Years of Living Dangerously

As anyone who has survived toddler-hood knows, a significant portion of  time is spent simply trying to keep your kids alive.  SB (Small Boy) has an astonishing gift for sniffing out dangerous things, and I spend most of my days running after him, begging him to be careful.  There could be a room full of fluffy, non-lethal things and he’d find the one teeny tiny thing that could kill him. 

For example, we were at the local aquarium last week for “Fish School” – a nice two hours spent doing arts and crafts, learning about the ocean and eating snacks.  There’s a tide pool area right near where the class is held, and during a break all the other kids were sitting on a rug doing quiet kid things, and SB was trying to climb into the tide pool.  So there you go.  My life in a nutshell.

When I try to explain to him that some things/activities are dangerous, such as jumping down the stairs; running amok in parking lots; chasing after strange dogs, etc., he wants to know why.  I try to explain that he could get hurt, and then he wants to know EXACTLY what would happen.  “Would I get smushed?  And be in bad shape?  Would I have red blood?  I want green blood.  Why can’t I have green blood?  Would I have to go to the hospital?  In an ambulance?  Would I get a band-aid?” (He LOVES band-aids).

Then I’m basically stuck.  He thinks ambulances are the greatest things in the world after garbage trucks, and a ride in one of them would be the thrill of his life.  So then I bring out the big guns.  I tell him he’d have to get a shot.  That usually puts an end to it, but I’m now realizing I’ve really screwed myself up.

Next month we have to go for his three-year check up.  I’m pretty sure this will involve shots, and it’s not going to be pretty.  Last time we were at the doctor’s office it took three people to hold him down so that they could simply check his ear tubes.  I think we’re going to need a few more people, a sound-proof room, and possibly some duct tape for shot time.

I hope they have VERY cool band-aids. 

Fun at the Airport

Yesterday we experienced all the thrills and excitement that traveling with a small boy (SB) can offer.  If I could give any parents advice about traveling with a toddler, it would be this:

Don’t.

Ever.

Do it.

But sometimes you have to.

After a nice visit to Grammy and Grampy’s non-toddler proof house, I was relieved that everyone survived, nothing caught fire, and the dogs weren’t  too traumatized.  All in all, a successful trip.  Phew.

We got to the airport, kissed everyone good-bye, and stood waving at Grampy as he drove away with SB’s car seat that we forgot to take out of the back seat.  Pandemonium ensued.  Well, for me it did.  Read on.

I wish I could say that I’m calm under pressure like my husband (or Big Boy – BB).  He quietly called Grampy, and of course, of course, he didn’t answer. So the calmer BB got, the more flappy and, oh, shall we say…insane, I got.   All kinds of horrifying scenarios were racing through my head – Pulling a Britney Spears and driving all the way home with SB in my lap?  NO.  Waiting an hour and a half at the airport with a tired, cranky SB so that BB could drive home, get the other car seat and come back for us?  Oh my GOD.  NONONONONO!!!   We finally figured out a plan that involved borrowing a car seat when we landed, and my heart rate returned to fairly normal.  Phew.

Then we had to clear security.  Not a big deal, no line, SB managed to keep it together, and then they lost my flip-flop on the conveyer/x-ray belt.  How the HELL?  WHAT THE????  So now, we’re car seat-less and I have one shoe.  I was on the brink of saying things that would have had me led off by Airport Security, and then someone found the rogue flip flop up by the x-ray machine.

Ok.  Double phew.  Off to the gate.  SB’s still keeping it together and I’m slowly calming down again.

S**hit!  They’re boarding already?  The one time the airline is early and efficient, we’re nowhere near the (*@#&* gate.  So I end up in one row with both kids, and BB is a few rows up (he CLAIMS he didn’t nap.  Hmm.).  Luckily we sat in front of “the man who never stopped talking” (every flight has one of those), so no one noticed SB opening and closing the window flap for an hour and a half.

When we landed, I realized it was a full moon.  There was also lightening flashing in the distance – the perfect end to a horror movie kind of day.  Hitchcock couldn’t have made up anything more terrifying than traveling with a toddler.  Can anyone top this?  Let’s hear your horror stories, I know there’s a few more out there…