Monday, April 17, 2006


Wanna' rassle?

I do it all day long. Every day.

I wrestle with Hurricane to get his clothes on. I've found that flipping him upside down and holding him with one arm is the easiest way to keep him in place while I use my other arm to hold his foot and my teeth to pull on his sock.

I magically grow 4 arms in time to wrestle him into his shoes.

I wrestle him into his car seat every time we need to leave the house, or return to it. Which? Very hard to restrain one determined toddler and strap him in. And keep him from biting my hand. Or sliding out of his seat.

I wrestle him into his bed for nap time. Not because he doesn't want to take a nap, but because he thinks it's funny.

I wrestle him away from Cat several times a day. As often as possible, before he has peed/bitten/attempted to ride on Cat. Although, occasionally, I just don't have the energy. Or care. (I did mention our Cat hates us right? Loves the kids. Hates us mere adults.)

I wrestle him out of those clothes he didn't want to put on in the morning. Again, it requires him to be upside down. And some shimmy-ing (eh).

Bath time- or more accurately, shower time- is the Smackdown of rasslin' events in our house.

First comes the getting him naked part. It's funny how he fights it because once he's undressed, he is fully amused by himself. Rubbing his belly and slapping his thighs. Occasionally, doing what boys do. As soon as he sees that I am not getting his pj's out, he realizes that it's shower night. And he runs. He hates bathes and showers.

For someone with such short legs, he can run like the wind.

Once caught, it's a matter of slinging him over my shoulder as he squeals and tugs at my hair. I pass him off to Mr X, who is much tougher than I and also a bit better of a wrestler. To be able to bathe a wriggly, slippery, 'spirited' toddler and come out of it in one piece.

Today I had to wrestle him out of a display kitchen at Home Depot. In case you ever wondered, those cabinets do open and they are big enough to fit a small body.

And in what will come as a surprise to exactly no one (except perhaps the assholes who still question whether he is ever fed), the only time we don't have to wrestle with him, is when we have food.

Then, it is a simple matter of asking (as if it was necessary) 'Eat?' and he will come running from what ever bit inanimate object he is destroying with a happy 'MMMM?'