Tuesday, May 09, 2006

He Wants To Be A Sumo Wrestler

And if he can ever convince his body to gain the necessary weight, I'm sure he'll be quite successful.
He's mastered the fine art of the head butt to the nose, and oh my damn that still freakin' hurts!
Physics is his bitch as evidenced by the fact that my face caved in to make room for his until we looked like a display in a sideshow.
Then he discovered the joy of the surprise attack.

He squared off, facing me, arms lifted at his sides. He monstered and snorted. Stomp the left foot. Stomp the right foot.

And that is why I had to go to the eye doctor with a black eye and broken glasses.
And that is also why I got the talk. The one about domestic abuse and my doctor knows the numbers to call and people will help me every step of the way. I just have to get out of this awful situation.

"You're right. I do. Do you think they give toddlers hard time? Some of those prison toddlers are hard core!"

I don't think he appreciated my humor or believed me.

Until Hurricane did it again.

Punctuated this time with a loud "BAM fo Momma!" He thinks it's hysterical.

I think it forced me to try to pick out new glasses. Which? I hate.
I always end up with frames too small for my face or too bug shaped.
So, this time I got contacts instead.

It's defense really. Because unless Hurricane jabs me in the eye with sharp and pointy sticks again, he shouldn't be able to break them. Right?

Tonight, before bed, I let him run loose in just his diaper. My sister in law, L, is here from California. She's been fawning over him and taking his picture and tormenting him by sticking a ball down the back of his pajamas (I love her!).
They were on the floor playing with the ball. I guess Hurricane was still nursing some hurt feelings over the indignity of having a grapefruit sized ball shoved down the back of his pants. He tucked his head down and raised his eyes to her as she sat, unaware of what was to come.

"Uh-oh. Uh, L.....?"

She kept talking to Mr X.

Hurricane squared off to her and lifted his arms a bit. His lips puckered, nostrils flaring.


Still talking.

Stomp left foot.

"Uh... Screw it." She'll learn quickly this way.

Stomp right foot.


She had just enough time to register this 25 lb ball of fury barreling towards her, just enough time to look rather horrified, before his little body rammed into hers.
She went crashing backward with Hurricane on top.

"BAM fo Momma!"

And now I get it. It really is funny.