Evan has a signature move that he perfected when I was visiting my parents a couple of months ago. He does a variation of jazz hands paired with a surprised look and the result is always hysterical laughter from us which only feeds his comedic behavior.
I'm gonna get daily phone calls from his future teachers.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
The Small Things
The little things that can make a child laugh continue to amaze me. This is one great example...
Friday, October 2, 2009
What Appears To Be Abuse
The past couple of weeks have been full of bumps and bruises...literally. Evan has managed to slam, bang and pummel every square inch of his body making it almost embarrassing to take him out in public.
I was in Target (of course I was in Target) browsing the Halloween section and I noticed the lady next to me checking Evan out. She did one of those I hope she didn't see me looking kind of glances...not once...but twice. I totally caught her the first time which made it even more disturbing when she did it again. I wanted to flat out ask her, "which mark of abuse has you so concerned? Is it the huge bruise/welt/scratch that takes up his entire right cheek? Or is it the purple goose egg on his forehead? Oh, wait, it must be the knees that are both missing the first few layers of skin."
I restrained myself, of course, but it was definitely one of those moments where I just wanted to lash out and make someone feel as uncomfortable as possible. Or at least set the record straight. "No, lady, I do not abuse my child. He willingly dives into chairs, runs into footboards, and slides across pavement...all pushing about 100 mph." My role in this drama is to pick him up when he cries and comfort him until he's ready to do it all over again. Someday I hope he learns. But until then I may need to invest in a pacemaker.
I was in Target (of course I was in Target) browsing the Halloween section and I noticed the lady next to me checking Evan out. She did one of those I hope she didn't see me looking kind of glances...not once...but twice. I totally caught her the first time which made it even more disturbing when she did it again. I wanted to flat out ask her, "which mark of abuse has you so concerned? Is it the huge bruise/welt/scratch that takes up his entire right cheek? Or is it the purple goose egg on his forehead? Oh, wait, it must be the knees that are both missing the first few layers of skin."
I restrained myself, of course, but it was definitely one of those moments where I just wanted to lash out and make someone feel as uncomfortable as possible. Or at least set the record straight. "No, lady, I do not abuse my child. He willingly dives into chairs, runs into footboards, and slides across pavement...all pushing about 100 mph." My role in this drama is to pick him up when he cries and comfort him until he's ready to do it all over again. Someday I hope he learns. But until then I may need to invest in a pacemaker.
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