Things That Will Give Me Grey Hairs, #283

This week Poopypants further strengthened my opinion that he will be my ‘breaks bones and gives me heart attacks, grey hairs, and sleepless nights’ child.  And that’s really saying something, because my two eldest offspring have more than their fair share of reckless abandon.  My delicate flowers love nothing better than to climb to the very tippy-top of the highest object in the room and leap off while flapping their skinny little arms.  So far there haven’t been any broken bones or anything, and both girls still look faintly surprised that they don’t have wings each time they hit the floor with a thud.  No amount of logical reasoning, scary threatening, or banshee screaming (we have a lot of that around here) has been able to convince them that their daredevil ways are anything less than SUPER FUN.  I think the fact that it drives me absolutely bananas is just a sweet bonus for them.

But back to Poopypants.  We were all sitting around the other day, still in our pajamas (it was only noon, after all) watching TV.  I don’t remember what we were watching, but there are really only 3 options: Noggin, Noggin, and Noggin.  Oh, and Noggin.  I went into the kitchen to start lunch and walked back into the living room just in time to see Poopypants pull himself up onto the footstool of our large leather armchair by sheer force of will and the skin of his pants.  He scrambled up, sat down, and flashed a triumphant grin that said “Oh yeah, baby.  How do you like me NOW?”  And then fell off headfirst, doing a full backwards somersault that looked like it could have easily broken his neck.  He shook off the hug I immediately scooped him into, got up, and tried again.  And again, and again, and again.  Ad infinitum. 

One part of me was bursting with pride for my just-turned-one little guy having conquered such a large task.  However, I have to admit there was a small part of my mind that was thinking thoughts of a not so charitable nature.  You know, the part of my mind that was thinking of all the things he could now climb onto and then fall off of?  That part (which seems to be a pessimistic truck driver) was thinking something more along the lines of “Shit.  Shit.  SHIT!”  The climbing phase has officially begun.