LilZ and I were playing with NikkiZ in her bedroom Monday. We were trying to kill time before heading to the fair, so we improvised a game where we sat facing the same wall in her room and bounced her giant ball to each other using the wall we were facing. Yes. We are very stupid, thank you for asking. The first couple of “incidents” involved items on NikkiZ’s changing table falling to the ground. This prompted nothing more than laughing on our part and NikkiZ repeating â€œUh Oh!â€
Actually – you know what? The first incident involved the ball hitting NikkiZ in the head. I hope the fact that I forgot that part indicates that the injury was not severe as opposed to indicating that I’m a heartless woman who casually forgets accidental head injuries to her children.
After a few changing table catastrophes, we had one incident that involved the Shelf Of Breakable Sentimental Items behind our heads. Luckily, nothing broke and that’s when I decided to remember I was the Mom and if something broke I would look like an idiot yelling at myself.
So, we switched games and put NikkiZ in her big toy bucket and spun her around. Then, LilZ decided it would be funny for him to try to get in the toy bucket. Can you now see why we watch a lot of TV? We don’t do “bored” well at all. So, he crouches down into the bucket and I started cracking up because he looked hilarious. And then he started laughing because he couldn’t figure out how to get out. And then I started laughing even harder because he was stuck in the toy bucket. Every time he put his hands on the top of the bucket to push himself out, the thing started tipping over, forcing him to abort the attempt. This made us both laugh even harder and I was mere seconds from peeing all over myself.
Luckily, I remembered that I also have hands (I’m Smart!) that could help and I held the bucket down for him while he pulled himself out. All the while we’re crying we’re laughing so hard at the situation. And NikkiZ? Standing off in the corner of the room looking at us like we had lost our ever-lovin’ minds. It was hard to tell if she was scared, or concerned for our sanity and her own future in our home. Either way – it was one of those glorious moments as a mother where you sit back and think, “Damn. I’m one lucky bitch.”