Cage Fighting With The Littles

Well.

For the last month, I’ve had a little twinge in the left side of my neck, and apparently Little Toddler Twinge just decided to grow on up overnight and become BIG GRANDMOTHER KNIFE-SLICE-IN-THE-SIDE-OF-THE-NECK TWINGE.  I feel like Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles today.  Never mind bending over to get a drink out of the school’s drinking fountain; I can’t even turn my head to see what’s behind me when I switch lanes in the Suburban.

Thankfully, I’m scheduled to see the chiropractor tomorrow.  I’m just going to tell him to go on ahead and crank my neck about 84 degrees to the left, because apparently all the vertebrae from that side jumped ship and slid to the right last night like a wild game of Jenga.

And then there was the issue of Starbucks this morning.  Or rather, the issue of NO STARBUCKS this morning.  I just had a homemade coffee with Coffee Mate today, as we’re entering that point in our lives called WHAT?  YOU’VE DRANK YOUR OLDEST SON’S COLLEGE TUITION OUT OF WHITE PAPER CUPS WITH THE GREEN, TWIN-TAILED MERMAID ON THEM? Now we’re paying the piper on that, and we’ve decided to drink cups of hot water in the morning, from coffee mugs at home, in an effort to scrounge together a couple of hundred thousand dollars for four years at Harvard before the boy graduates in seven years.

(Totally doable.)

(As my friend Carrie would say, “It’s a stretch goal.”)

So that was this morning.  No grande, no-water, chai latte, and a neck that up and decided to boycott all attempts to turn itself to the left.  It’s a morning that I’ll treasure close to my heart forever.

But LATER THIS MORNING, after I’d come to grips with the fact I could spin my entire body really quickly to the right to see what was behind me on the left, I ended up at Sister’s house for a while.  She had some store-bought, healthy cookies made with tree bark and cedar shavings and grass clippings and chocolate chips, and we pretended that we enjoyed them as much as a cup of loveliness from The ‘Bucks.

(The cookies weren’t bad.)

(Nothing that Starbucks would serve out of their glass showcase, but they were definitely tastier than licorice.)

(Ugh.  Licorice.)

(Is there anything worse?)

(Okay.  You’re right.  Sauerkraut IS worse than licorice.)

While Thing 2 and I were at Sister’s house, The Littles played together.  Or rather, they made an effort to be NEAR ONE ANOTHER IN THE SAME ROOM, because Little H is still not convinced that Thing 2 isn’t going to just knock her dead sometime with his loud personality and his street knowledge on Ghetto Karate.  Little H likes kids to be sweet and quiet and gentle, like she is.

Thing 2 is about as quiet as a space shuttle launch.

The very first time they sat down beside one another, Little H began to cry.  Thing 2 just looked at me and asked, “What?  Ma, I barely touched her.  Cry baby.”

I ended up showing The Littles a video on my phone, which captivated them for a couple of moments.  Little H was interested enough to quit crying, and that’s when Thing 2 said, “Ever been stuck in a Half Nelson, H?”

I held my iPhone up near the camera, and the babies were enthralled.  They even forgot to be irritated with one another for a while, as they bobbed up and down a little bit in an effort to demonstrate their early dance moves.  I considered this a small Snapshot Victory, even though I couldn’t get them BOTH to look at the camera at the same time.

(I may be prejudiced, but I think these are two of the most beautiful babies of ever.)

When the video ended, H realized that she was still sitting next to Thing 2 and she quickly produced more tears.  Estrogen can throw a good cry down at the drop of a hat.

Thing 2 looked at me and said, “Ma!  I DID NOT smack her!  Not at all!  I have been working on keeping my hands to myself and my voice DOWN.”

Ah!  There’s one where they are both looking at me!  They really DO love each other.  Sister and I have no doubts that they’ll grow up being buddies.

Sister had a laundry basket sitting on her bedroom floor, so I stuck both of The Littles in it.  This way they were corralled, and H couldn’t crawl away.

(Thing 2 HATES that Little H can crawl and he can’t.)

(It makes him so mad, he growls.)

(He wants to be a twelve-year-old on the run.  He wants to play the guitar and wear dark sunglasses, too.)

(Hubs and I are a little bit worried about Thing 2.)

Of course, as soon as they were both contained, H reached over and yanked Thing 2’s binky (pacifier) right out of his mouth.  He was not amused.

It was the beginning of a long round of Cage Fighting.

“Seriously, Ma?  I have to be NICE to her?  She stole my binky!  I hear the crazy in your talk, Woman.”

“At what point is one of  you adults going to make her give me that binky back?  Her having it is starting to freak me out.”

“Holy snot, Superman!  She threw my binky out of the basket!  Who has vacuumed lately?  Is there a bottle of Germ-X to wash my plug down with?  It!  Is!  On!  The floor, people!

“What?!  You can’t PROVE anything!  I was NOT just thinking about pushing her in the back and knocking her out of this basket!”

“Listen, H.  I want the binky back, or you’re gonna sleep with the fishes.  Are you understanding any of this?”

“Fine.  I’m going to bite the snot out of you and make it look like an innocent kiss between cousins.  You don’t get away with stealing a boy’s binky!”

“And this is the Fireman’s Carry in wrestling.  My dad taught it to me.  And I’m gonna follow it up with a Barrel Roll and your head in a Side Cradle…”

“And if the ref isn’t looking, you just deliver a Throat Punch.  This is probably gonna hurt; you might want to tighten some neck muscles.”

“Oh, look!  Your mom was right.  You DO have potatoes growing in your ears!”

“You wanna cry like that?  I’ll GIVE YOU something to cry about.  How about a little hair pulling?  You ready to give my binky back yet?  Say UNCLE!”

“I call this move the Schnoz Crusher.  Named it myself.”

“I know… I know.  I’ve heard it a hundred times.  BE NICE TO GIRLS.  Well, sometimes when a girl swipes your binky, she needs a good push.  I’m trying to work up some guilt on shoving you back, but so far… nothing.”

“This is the choke hold, with a small bite to the back of your head.”

“STOP TAUNTING ME WITH IT!!!!  Oh, crud!  You just made me cry!”

“I got it!  I got it!  And, Ma?  I WANT THIS BABY OFF OF ME!!  She’s trying to pull off a Pile Driver!  I’m too little for this!”

And that was pretty much our visit with Sister and Cousin H this morning.

When we left, Thing 2 and Little H were both smiling at one another, but by then I’d tucked the camera away.

Thing 2 fell asleep in the Suburban on the way home, and he slept for two entire hours in his crib after I carried him inside.

Wrestling the girls will sap a guy’s energy levels.

I just hope he didn’t hurt his neck during all of that; we drank HIS college tuition at Starbucks, too.  He’s going to need that wrestling scholarship.

1 thought on “Cage Fighting With The Littles

  1. Okay, that was funny!!! Schnoz crusher! Where do you come up with this stuff?! And you are right – those 2 are very darling and beautiful babies!

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