Why Stay On The Floor, When You Can Achieve Great Heights With Minimal Effort?


I popped into the walk-in clinic today, because I’ve decided that having both of my lungs inside of my chest will actually enhance my life, and I was worried about losing one to all the nighttime hacking.

The doctor declared that I was suffering from a sinus infection (Yes; I’d already self-diagnosed myself.  I know how to work WebMD.), and then he said I also had an ear infection.

What am I?  Six?  Because do grownups even get ear infections, other than Hubs?

I told the doctor that my ear barely hurt… that I would never have considered it infected.  He then told me that my tolerance for pain is actually quite high, because my ear was quite alarmingly ugly.  I said, “Yes.  You can say that again.  I endured a C-section in 2000 with the bare bones of anesthetic.  My doctor announced that he had no idea how I pulled that off without a scream that’s only been featured in The Exorcist, and I probably shouldn’t attempt to sue, because it was all my fault, since I jumped ten feet into the air when they slammed that giant needle into my back.  And also?  I put up with Hubs and the boy watching Swamp People and some fellow known as Turtle Man, who will catch live critters by hand, and who needs subtitles while he’s talking, because there ain’t nobody in existence who can understand him.  I think my tolerance for pain actually IS quite high.”

I think that was more than the doctor at the clinic wanted to hear, but hey.  I threw it out there anyway.  I’ve never been shy about overstating things.


People always ask me why I feel the need to just crawl into bed every evening around 8:00.  My friends will invite me to see a late movie at the theater, because it’s SO EASY TO DO, after everyone’s children have been put into bed.  The thing is, the late shows don’t begin until 9:00 or 9:30 here in Small Town, and by then, I’m already on my third episode of a dream.

The reason, people, is that we have Thing 2.

Thing 2 is a mover and a shaker; he’s a climber.  He jumps and hollers and stomps and dances and throws toys in merriment and empties cupboards and drawers and pulls the cats’ tails and gives out the best hugs of EVER.  And by 8:00 each night (8:30 at the very latest), I’ve given the day everything I have, and I need to crawl beneath my fake Egyptian cotton sheets, play a couple of words in Words With Friends on my phone, and then blam!  I’m out.

I’ll just present you with a little photograph of how things shook down at our house today.

The back story is that I was in my bathroom, brushing my teeth.  I had Bible study to go to, and the girls there actually appreciate it when I take the time to brush and apply deodorant.  I could hear Thing 2 in my kitchen, where he was busy yanking things out of a bottom drawer.  I only keep Tupperware and measuring cups in those drawers, so I figured it was safe.

Two entire minutes later, I came out of the bathroom to see this:

IMG_6972That would be our baby, sitting on the kitchen counter.

I was stunned, y’all.  STUNNED OUT OF SENSIBLE REASONING.  I couldn’t figure out WHO had put him up there and left him unattended!

And then I realized… he had used those open drawers as a ladder.

Please take note of the sharp steak knife in his left hand, which he is holding primarily by the blade, as he stirs an imaginary pot of soup.  Both the knife and the pot were in the sink.

Where a one-year-old supposedly couldn’t reach them.

In his right hand, Thing 2 is holding a bottle of liquid Children’s Tylenol, which he was happily shaking while he stirred with his dangerous knife.

The Tylenol was sitting on the window sill, where it was safely out of reach of all babies.

Jesus was keeping an eye on him, while I was getting down with the Colgate, because he didn’t slice his hand open.

But I’m telling you, EVERY SINGLE TIME I heard the phone ring or the doorbell chime today, I figured it was the Department of Family Services, ready to take our baby away from us.

I bought drawer locks at the store this afternoon.

Obviously some families need them, not because the items in the drawers are dangerous, because Tupperware?  It’s fairly harmless.  No, some families need them to prevent the drawers from being used as a step ladder.

I feel like I need to call Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge and say, “Listen!  Do you know about drawers being used as stairs?  Because His Royal Highness, that darling little baby you brought home today, may be a climber like Thing 2.  I just want you to be prepared at the palace, Kate, because this was a new one for me, and this isn’t my first rodeo at raising a child.”

Y’all carry on, and please!  You probably shouldn’t use Hubs and myself as an example of good parenting.

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