The Wounds of Parenting

Z, my two year old has been attending gymnastics class for the last two months.  I say attending because it is largely her running around randomly or crying.    Generally she will do a few tricks with the promise of a lollipop at the end of class.  When she received her first lollipop it was with some consternation that she declared, “lollipop…. it’s like a sucker!”   (Did I mention this kid is a genius).

At first, she adorably referred to it as “flip class”, but now if I ask if she wants to go to “flip class” she haughtily corrects me and says, “It’s Gymnastics” as if she’s Dominique Dawes.

At last flip class Z managed to perform a contortion in such a way that it nearly resulted in a concussion for Mommy.   She didn’t seem to notice the blinding pain that she had caused me and kept happily doing log rolls.

When we arrived home, I decided to rest from my closed head trauma by relaxing on the floor and allowing Baby Bird to crawl all over me as is her new favorite nine-month old pastime.  She promptly crawled onto my chest and shoved her first finger on her right hand so far into my nose that her jagged, impossibly sharp baby fingernail ruptured something and I immediately started bleeding.

baby fingernails

I am thinking about what could have possibly given Baby Bird this idea.  I flash back through the lancinating pain to a moment in flip class where Z and her new friend were discussing their “stuffy noses”.   I was thinking to myself how great it was that she was socializing appropriately when I noticed that the other little girl had started picking Z’s nose prompting her mom to recite the well known saying, “You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.”  I had largely viewed this as anecdotal and not instructional until this point.

As I was trying to staunch the bleeding, Z leaps from the couch in what can only be described as a Bruce Lee impersonation and lands a windmill kick squarely to my left ear, rupturing my eardrum.  My world goes dark with pain.   I am bleeding and about to vomit from the instant vertigo that this perfectly landed blow has caused.

In fairness, as I was writhing on the floor, crying, Z did give me “double hugs” and got her Doc McStuffins doctor bag to give me a “check up”.

While I was still bleeding and deaf in one ear, she put a bandage on my thumb (which ironically was not injured), kissed me, and declared me to be “all better”

 

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