Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Float Like a Butterfly


Teeth. Again. Molars this time, I believe, are waking us up in the middle of the night. David put Finny to bed last night and I gave him all the instructions: two-three books, music, fan. I forgot to tell him about the Motrin and sure enough at 2 a.m....teeth.

I try Motrin, a diaper change and gentle rocking, but although calm, he will not sleep. If I even walk close to his crib, absolute histeria breaks out as if "sharks with lazer beams" were swimming at the bottom of it. So I bring him into bed with us.

The wrestling match begins.

First an elbow to the throat, then a finger up the nose. Next, he pushes all his weight on my face and pins me down so I don't quite know what's happening when he pulls his signature move and pulls all my hair out.

With a gentle, "shhh," I lay him back down between us and in a flash he is up on all fours again and gunning for David. Now he tries to pin David down by propping himself up on David's face and then he takes a good healthy handful of chest hair sending David moaning into the corner.

With a gentle, "shhh," and a kiss, I lay him back down again and the yoga poses begin. Butt in the air, butt in the face, butt that seems to have a mind of its own.

One hour later, this isn't working. No sense in all of us being in the ring, so Finny and I move to the guest bedroom and Round Two begins.

Hair pulling, nose picking, throat checking, and an hour later--TKO.

Not sure who went down first, but based on the way I'm feeling this morning, I'm pretty sure he's the champ.

I should let him win anyway; it is his birthday after all.

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